Sanctuary

“Remember the entrance to the sanctuary is inside you.” – Rumi

I don’t like that I’ve stepped away from this for so long, but such is life. And life makes it hard for me to dedicate myself to anything entirely. At least, it feels that way with the hours I’ve had to keep. I am making some changes in the near and foreseeable future, and am hoping it brings in the results I’d like to see.

And it wasn’t just life, it was the unnerving that came with knowing that two people in particular were paying such close attention to my life. A woman where I work – the self-proclaimed dirty fairy creature congratulated me when I announced I was pregnant. I hadn’t said a word to anyone at work. And if you’re reading now, Fairy Creature, there was never a doubt in my mind that it was you who trolled my blog. And then some guy I briefly dated kept looking at one of my online profiles not long after I announced I was engaged. It was creepy. I contacted him on Facebook, letting him know that it was creepy and that I literally got a notification every time he did that. His response was to go in incognito mode or whatever it is that LinkedIn offers and block me on Facebook. I just have one question for you both:

I have another announcement: I am pregnant. Six months. It’s a girl. I found out in January. Apparently the day I took the test was the very day it could have a positive reading. She’s been hitting the marks on the timeline quite nicely and I’m looking forward to meeting the little one face to face. A friend dubbed her ‘Belly Being’. I like it and that’s how I refer to her when I write my ridiculous weekly updates on pregnant life. It’s definitely a joyous experience, but it’s also a hilariously uncomfortable one, too. I hope to make her a book on all of this someday.

Belly Being's very first gift was an awesome girl power book and a Wonder Woman teether. Compliments of a lovely co-worker. 

I feel like nearly every inch of me as widened, including my feet. I’m hoping it’s not permanent because I hear some women never go back to their original size and  . . . . Dancing. I need to fit into my dancing shoes! I have stretch marks. I have gas. I have a constant halo of grease on my face from the hormones. But hey! It gives me that glowing look that everyone says is so lovely. And I can’t say that this has been an entirely joyful experience, either. I’ve heard that before about women who have had a miscarriage. It’s really messed with my head, making me nearly afraid to be happy about it. Yet here we are and she’ll be here in just a few months. It’s not that I didn’t want to be happy, I was just afraid. And as we’ve progressed further along I’ve taken a small sigh of relief. And now I can feel her kicking every now and then and it reassures me that everything is okay.

This perfect tiny little being. I loved her from the moment I saw her as a tiny cluster of beating cells. 

She's been a positive influence on my life already. I was ready to walk away from a familial relationship entirely - and then I learned I was pregnant and knew that it wasn't a choice that I could make for someone else. So Belly Being has actually improved my relationship with my adopted mom. We still keep in contact, but I keep it at my own terms and that's made this whole dynamic run much more smoothly. 

The thing that amazes me most about this entire experience is the calmness that pregnancy has brought on me. I have felt small instances of anxiety, but nothing lasting. I have lived with PTSD and depression for so long I’d literally forgotten what it was like to not feel those awful things.  I don’t know that this will last after pregnancy, but it would be beyond wonderful if it does. And don’t get me wrong, I have plenty to be losing my sh*t about; it’s just not phasing me as it would have prior to pregnancy.

I’ll be changing jobs. It’s a step down and a cut in pay, but I am so done with the surgical department at my hospital. Bonus points because it shaves a little from my commute. And then Micheal decided that it was time to look for a house after we learned I was pregnant (insert overwhelmed and nervous laughter here). The housing market in the pacific northwest is beyond f*cking ridiculous. We qualify for a $200, 000 loan . . . . which can pretty much get us a frame of a house that’s been burned down from a meth lab gone wrong and is now housing ants. Anything that seems attainable is always going to go to a higher bidder who has cash on hand. Who are these assholes that have this kind of money? I confess, even looking at manufactured homes has been a challenge. Granted, it makes us feel like we have a fighting chance, but its’s still vicious.

We even got close once. The offer was accepted. Everything fell through last minute because the HOA didn't follow through with a letter for the lender and that was it. Then the seller took a cash offer and we were left with nothing but frustration. 

Maybe I should be grateful? I've never been fond of Portland or the Pacific NW in general. 

And despite how impossible this has felt and proven to be, it still seems like a good idea because we really need the room. Currently we live in a modest 2 bedroom apartment with 2 dogs. Technically we have an extra room, because it’s only used 3 months out of the year at most if the step son comes to visit, but it’s off limits. I didn’t feel even remotely panicky until I realized we don’t even have room for a rocking chair. And then I feel Belly Being move and realize there’s an actual tiny person living inside of me. Oh. Em. Gee. So I have a few moments of worry and then I’m done with it. Prior to pregnancy all of these things: job change, change in pay, looking for home to buy, insanely dumb commute, etc. All of those things would have resulted in me setting something on fire.

We’re taking all of these birth prep courses, too. And for these ice breaker exercises they had couples ask one another what they’re doing to prep for their nursery. LMAO!!! I’m not sure I’d have time to work on it even if we had one. Up until a few weeks ago I was still working 2 jobs. So these women with their unswollen feet with husbands who supported them fully wanted to know what I was doing to get ready for baby. I joked that I mostly just cried in the corner about it. That’s a half truth, I guess because sometimes I certainly feel that way.

I'm not at this phase yet, but I pray for Grace for those who are near me when this starts. 

Honestly I can’t complain much. Compared to what I’ve heard from other women, my pregnancy has been relatively easy. I haven’t had too much intense cravings, either; that’s also a benefit for Micheal because I’m not driving him too crazy.

I envy this little girl already because she has an amazing dad who is just as happy about her as I am.

Paying the Piper

I’ve been tired lately . . . really tired. I feel like I have 8 balls up in the air and have to learn to juggle all of them. Simultaneously. Right now. I recently gave myself a reality check and pep talk just to be reminded of these things: not everything falls into place overnight, there really are no ‘perfect’ conditions for anything and we all have to pay our dues to get what we want in life.

Sometimes frustrations arise when I see what I perceive as biased treatment between my brother and me. Every time I catch myself in that pattern of thinking I remind myself that the world doesn’t owe me anything. Perseverance has always been my trade mark. I’m tough. I’m resilient. Resorting to envy and resentment is pointless. It benefits no one and is harmful to me most of all.

Since I’ve started dating I’m feeling pressure from some for not finding ‘the one’ yet and from others to take my time. It’s the former that manages to get into my head. Damn. It. I still have my reservations about the whole other-person-completing-me idea. I know I believed in it once and I’d like to think my current approach is a more practical one. When I meet someone the question at the forefront of my mind is how dedicated he will be in the long run. Is he willing to try to work it out when things aren’t going smoothly or will he be quick to draw just for the sake of outshooting me? Personally, I’m not one to speak when I’m hurt or angry. Once something has been said, that’s it . . . . and it feels like that has the potential to do more much harm than a physical act of harming someone  - like theft or something along those lines. It’s almost always the words someone has spoken to me and my emotional reaction to those words that I remember. I try to take care when I speak to others.

I went off on a tangent there for a minute. That’s an example of how my mind is running in circles lately. I go from worrying about my current living situation, to my lack of a social life because of my living situation, to Merlin and telling myself that he’s worth it all (because he so very much is), to dating, to telling my inner mind to shut the hell up and be quiet for once.

On the topic of dating: I feel like I haven’t the slightest fucking clue. On the rare occasion that I meet someone with whom I feel a connection or someone that merits a few outings because I think they might be worth my while, I’m often consumed with thoughts along the lines of: Am I going to get hurt? Will I somehow hurt him? What the hell am I doing here?! Then I catch myself in borderline freak out mode, tell myself I’m awesome about 50 times the same way one would recite a Hail Mary as a form of penance, and take a mental time out to remind myself that this isn’t the end of the line for me. Not even close. In fact, there is no end of the line. That’s just an illusion.

I was telling a friend about someone I met recently. Her response was this: you don’t sound very enthused. Truth be told, I was pleasantly surprised by him. I almost stood him up. I’m glad I didn’t because so far he’s been very different from anyone else I’ve met.  I was skeptical because of his age. I have a long history of dating older men and it never bodes well for me. Then I met him. He’s kind, attractive, he's witty, he's chivalrous, and we have the chemistry to carry on meaningful conversations. While I’ve been extremely self-conscious about my appearance lately, I always feel lovely when I’m with him. On some level I’d wager I’m thrilled. My problem is that I keep telling myself it’s not going to work. For the love of all that is holy, I really need to quit thinking along those lines. I can’t keep focusing on what’s not working, what’s not ideal, and what’s not where I want it to be. Instead, I should be looking forward to something else entirely and remind myself that we pay our dues in nearly every aspect of life. My friends have their fair share of dating gone wrong stories. They found the right fit eventually.

This about sums up who I've met so far with the exception of the guy I almost stood up. 

Everyone has to pay their dues when it comes to a career. While I’m not where I had hoped to be in terms of finances, I know that will come later and emotionally my work is pretty damn rewarding. I helped a patient from another clinic yesterday. She had so many things going on in her life that were overwhelming her physically and mentally and all she needed right at that moment was for someone to give her a sincere and listening ear and get her the help she needed instead of passing her off to the next person. I was able to provide that. These one-on-one interactions make a world of difference to someone else and are precisely why I love my job. I remind myself of this when I think that something as silly as money is more important to my overall well-being. I manage to get by with what I have.

Connecting with complete strangers in their moment of emotional need. THIS is why I love my job. 

When I’m stressed out I remind myself of the things that really matter. I am lucky enough to have a position that is rewarding more often than not. My doctor appreciates me and his gratitude means the world to me. I’ve been surrounded by academia long enough to know the vast majority who make a career out of it have over-inflated egos.

Most importantly, Merlin is a happy dog. He has access to a small yard. I purchased a small AC to run on days when it’s hot and muggy so he’ll be comfortable while I’m away and he is adored by everyone who meets him. I’ve been complimented a lot lately regarding his sweet temperament. That gives me the warm fuzzies because that was entirely my doing and even though finances are tight most of the time I can still afford his grain free good, treats, an occasional toy and lots of love.

The lack of a kitchen has created a whole other set of issues: the time spent actually making food, cleaning my apartment and still trying to find a more efficient way to survive in there have severely cut into my social life. That’s upsetting to me from time to time. I do miss dancing and I am annoyed by the fact that my apartment was probably built on top of an ant graveyard and that’s why those stupid little creatures never go away. I've been browsing. I've learned fairly quickly that Portland is a renter's nightmare. I have stories. I think I'll save those for another entry because they deserve to be showcased! 

He's worth every single aspect of being a hound mom. 

When I’m frustrated I remind myself why I did it at all in the first place: the hound. He’s worth every frustration and inconvenience. I keep that thought in mind every time I look for a new apartment or (as I’m considering lately) roommate scenario. Merlin’s happiness comes first, so I’m staying put for a while. 

Warfare

My experience with dating so far has led me to this conclusion: It really all boils down to psychological warfare. Also, people in general are idiots. On any online dating site it’s commonplace to see things written such as “Be real” and “Not into mind games” and “No drama”. Those lines tell me the following: 1. You are probably the biggest phony that ever lived. 2. You are psychologically flawed and must be in control at all times. 3. You obviously have drama in your life or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. You have unresolved issues and are projecting your nonsense into cyber world. And then there’s my all-time personal favorite message I get from time to time, “R u real?” No, dumbass. I actually put effort into a profile for your own amusement and gawking pleasure! (Side note: I do NOT upload revealing photos). There was also that one guy that said something along the lines of, “You’re hot, but I’m not sure about you.” Umm . . . . Thanks. Blocked!!!

There was also an inebriated text sent in the wee hours of the morning. Lord help me. 

Of the few I actually have let into my life at least to some small degree I’ve found myself wondering why he hasn’t called or messaged me in several days. What did I do to irritate him? Was I not forthcoming enough in who I truly am? OMG?! Do I lack the level of self-awareness to truly know myself?! And then I remember that I’m one of the most awesome people ever, go cuddle with the hound and get on with life.

I'd choose this guy any day. 

I think I have a far different take on what a guy is actually saying than what he really means. I didn’t really realize this until I was telling my landlord last night how extremely bored I am by most of these guys. If they can’t match me intellectually or emotionally and are unable to carry a semi-intelligent conversation, why do they bother wasting my time?! My latest irritation came when I met a guy in person who seemed interesting enough. The entire time he talked about his connections with local big names of which I know nothing of because that really doesn’t matter to me and also about all of the money he’s made. Nice enough – it just struck me as full of himself and materialistic. From my landlord’s perspective, this was merely a guy’s way of saying he could take care of me.

Then there's the guy who just can't tear himself away from his phone. When in doubt, spill your drink and run. 

There’s a Huffington Post article that resonates with my own thoughts about how ridiculous this entire process really is. Here are a few of my favorite highlights: 1. Thou shalt never maketh plans to hang out in advance, for thou are casual and disinterested. 2. Thou shalt never compliment thy lover. Speaketh only in condescending words. 3. Thou shalt covet many, many lovers, preferably in the same neighborhood. Thou shalt speak of them often. 4. Thou shalt remember, above all: The lover who cares the least wins: One sentimental ‘thinking of you’ could derail all the progress you’ve made! Go into Code Red Aloof mode. Ignore your babe’s texts for hours-long gaps and reply with one-word answers. In no time, you’ll prove your lack of investment and thus restore the balance of power.

Because winning is more important than anything else, right? 

It’s just insanity – our own struggle for power and to always have the upper hand. Every single time I feel the urge to want to blow someone off I’m starting to question why. Did I feel slighted by him and am turning this into a vendetta to protect my own ego? Why did his failure to contact me irritate me so much and how does this tie into my own issues of abandonment? Why does dating feel like one of the hardest games of tug-of-war I’ve ever played?

What I can say is this: I’m paying close attention to not just how he treats me and those close to him, but also how he treats the average person that might cross his path. If he can’t be kind to a stranger it’s highly unlikely he’ll be kind to me when I need him to be.

This loving of a heart. That's what matters. 

Something else that really gets me is that everyone has advice to give me. Everyone. Seriously. The attitude seems to be that because these people are married and I am not, clearly I have flawed logic and that’s why I’m still single so they have hoards of knowledge to bestow upon me! My personal favorite is the concept of a soul mate. I believed in that once upon a time – now I’m a firm believer that what you put into a relationship is exactly what you’ll get out of it. The idea that there’s one perfect guy out there for me and I only just have to find him for my life to feel complete and make myself whole is nonsense.

I love old and new friends - I just don't need the dating advice. Thanks. 

I’ve had very old friends reconnect with me lately. I love them, I do. The problem with their logic is that they still think they know me as the young teenager who hoped someone would rescue her from her nightmarish life. People change. I learned to save myself. I’ve been told that I come across as guarded. That’s probably true and I don’t see that as a bad thing. Being naïve and trusting didn’t do me any favors. I can still be open to the world without living my life like a bumbling idiot thinking that no one could possibly ever want to harm me or take advantage of me.

My dating woes are the least of my problems lately. My radiator blew on me last week, forcing me to take out whatever funds I had left in my account to fix it. I am officially in pauper status again. The silver lining to this is that while my car is now fixed, it forced me to ride my bike to work like I said I would. I’ve been doing 22 miles a day and royally kicking butt. I’m rather proud of myself for that – and also noted a few truths about myself that I had to admit. 1. I’m extremely competitive. How dare that guy pass me on the road?! I’m going to smoke him! 2. I get road rage on the bike, too. This isn’t just from other cyclists acting like total assholes, but also from cat calls and inappropriate stares. There are times I want to dismount my bike and bash in someone’s car window . . . . But then I remind myself of my awesomeness and carry on. 

I have been described as such . . . .But my main point is this: I am not out there for your personal viewing pleasure. I don't care how marvelous my breasts are. 

Sweetest Downfall

When god (aka tango instructor) spoke to me during my emotional breakdown, she said something that I’ve been churning over in my mind since, “Don’t’ live with regret.” She mentioned the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah; the characters were turned to salt when they looked back. Moral of the story: don’t look back. Look forward instead. That’s a lot easier said than done, but I’m still trying. This doesn’t mean we don’t learn from our experiences and mistakes, it simply means we don’t live in the past – in what has already taken place – in the things we cannot change.

Live in the moment and make it beautiful - I'm still trying to get there.

I’ve touted a good deal of regret with me for many years; and not just regret, but also guilt. I feel guilt for the life I live sometimes – because I ask myself why I’m a college graduate and my sister has been swallowed by life and I have no idea how even start looking for her. I regret that I don’t know how to find her and I regret that I couldn’t do more for her. Then I have to look at it like a rational person, What could I have possibly done differently? The answer is nothing. I have to let that go. We were children. There’s a very unpleasant feeling that comes with being a powerless child. I keep reminding myself that I’m no longer a powerless child, but someone who has a say in her future and her here and now.

Then there are the people from my past I carry with me like heavy weights – because I feel guilt over having some measure of success in this life and know that they suffer for their choices. I’ve made choices, too – I just feel that somehow it was luck of the draw. I have to remind myself that while that is a small part of the equation, it’s not the whole equation. I didn’t choose the same path and that’s why I have no criminal record or teenage children before I make it to thirty or in a really bad marriage. Granted, I almost made that mistake once. I dodged a bullet.

Then there’s regret over lashing out at the wrong person. My sweetest downfall in life was loving someone deeper than I knew myself capable and seeing the beauty in life again. Before that time in my life and before the Beloved and I crossed paths again I felt as if my life was drifting in a black sea. It’s still mind blowing to me that joy can be a trigger simply because it’s as emotionally strong as fear. I regret the words I said when I was both confused and in pain and even still now I wish I could take it all back, but there’s no rewind button to this life we’re living, is there? I’m quite certain that’s my biggest regret in life. And there are times I regret hardly being able to speak to him the few times I’ve seen him since . . . . so I remind myself that regret is a destructive force and I can’t keep living if I’m too busy beating myself up.

"You are my sweetest downfall

I loved you first, I loved you first

Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth

I have to go, I have to go

Your hair was long when we first met . . . 

Samson came to my bed 

Told me that my hair was red

Told me that I was beautiful and came into my bed

Oh I cut his hair myself one night

A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light

And he told me that I'd done alright

And he kissed me 'til the mornin' light . . . " - Regina Spektor

So while I honor the practice of not berating myself, I have noted things that I most certainly do not regret. I don’t regret ever being owned by my dogs; those two furry babies have been my constant joy and comfort since one precious little lady literally walked into my life and the other was a treasure I sought out. I don’t regret ever purchasing or wearing a fake engagement ring. It’s either boosted my confidence because I don’t feel like I have to hide away or it really does have mystical powers that ward off predatory douchebags. I don’t regret all the times I tried and failed. I don’t regret starting tango only because I wanted another means of connection with someone; the dance turned into one of the best forms of therapy. Overall, I don’t regret moving to Portland. Sure, the sun practically never shines here – but my time here has been far more enriching than any experience the Central Valley could have possibly offered.

I confess my quads are killing me - but I am so going to own this mother f-er

I don’t regret starting a couch to 5k challenge with my co-worker; I was quite certain I was near death on day 1 – yet here I am and we’re still chipping away at it. I don't regret that my hardest lesson learned in life was also my sweetest downfall. I don’t regret living, losing, loving or crying. I don’t regret who I am, either – quirky gal with occasional meltdowns, PTSD rage and hesitation blended with a whole lot of laughter. I often say ‘I regret nothing!’ in jest – I’m thinking that’s something I should start taking seriously. Lastly, I don't regret the expensive dress I just ordered so I can showcase the tattoo I'm getting in a couple of weeks. 

Okay . . . not quite as dramatic - but it's still going to be awesome.

What I Really Think About You, Portland

I think Portland is a wonderful place . . .to visit. I've been in Portland, OR for nearly 5 years now, and I still don't feel at home here. In fact, I don't think I'll ever claim to be from Portland, OR; the shame is too much for me to stomach. I'm home sick and I miss down to earth people . . . Portland is also severely lacking in ethnicity and I feel like I'm slowly descending into madness; the reflection from the masses of white skin is slowly burning my retinas.

This is still too vanilla for my liking.

The overall smugness of this place is getting to me. What's the point of doing good for your neighbor, a stranger, a woman in a foreign village in Africa or the environment if you're going to brag about it for the rest of your life? I think one of the worst offenses in this world is when an act is presented as kind and genuine when the underlying motives are social status and personal gain. 

I'm doing this for you because I want to help you . . . and I also want a press release to inform the nation of my generosity. 

Portland has been referred to as one of the most environmentally friendly ('green') cities in the world. There are many forms of public transit. Consequently, many don't own a car. In fact, this is encouraged. Parking anywhere in the SW side is nearly impossible not to mention expensive. Park on campus at Portland State University because you're a student? Forget about it! That will run you nearly $100 a week. I think Portland's lesser known motto is 'Welcome to Portland! You can't park here . . . '

Seriously; don't do it. Your vehicle will be worked over with a sledgehammer, flipped over by an angry mob, set on fire and then 'decorated' with environmentalist slogans. You're welcome. 

Now, if you happen to live in an 'upper class' neighborhood, public transit nearly refuses to operate in the area. I suppose it's their way of keeping the unsavory individuals out. You're only option is to drive, and you should sure as heck hope that you don't have to do anything on the SW side. I suppose that doesn't matter, because everyone has more money than they know what to do with in these wretched hoity-toity neighborhoods.

Portland claims to give its residents a better way of living . . . there's no sales tax! You know what this means? Residents are taxed in ways they couldn't even begin to comprehend. Residents would never notice this because they've either lived in this city their whole lives and know nothing else, or are just too stoned to care. Personally, I hate feeling like I've been fisted with a sandpaper glove every time I receive my paycheck. For someone like the hipster, this doesn't matter. Nothing matters to the hipster.

The hipster was formally thought to be a mythical creature that has origins in Portland, OR. It turns out the legend of the hipster was true, and they're attracted to and mimic overall douchbaggery. The 'green' lifestyle is a popular thing in this area, and hipsters make every attempt to try to be more 'green' than the next person.

The 'green' environment in Portland is an ignis fatuus to cover up the major underground pot plantations. Those that claim to be green, particularly the ignorant hipster prick, wail about the environment and the nation's pursuit of oil. As they're expressing their frustration with how horrible we are to our environment, the ignorant hipster prick is working through his 3rd pack of cigarettes for the day.  The ignorant hipster prick is someone who will yell at you for eating meat or driving a car, because these things are not green and harmful to the environment, as they take the last drag of their cigarette and pile onto a bus that transports them to their home nearly 30 miles away.
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Actually, it's the Pacific NW . . .  you're doing it wrong. 

Not everyone falls into the hipster group. There are many that saddle the fence between sane people and the Highest Order of Douchbaggery. Some of Portland's residents are extremely dedicated environmentalists. These folks sell things on craft sites that are made with their bare hands. Supplies from these products, yarn for example, are grown organically in the highest mountains of Peru and purchased for fair trade prices. This yarn is then shipped to Argentina, where it is processed for the crafter and from there, finally shipped to the crafter. The crafter receives the yarn obtained through pure goodness and fair practice, makes it into something, and then ship it yet again to buyers of the product. Now how environmentally friendly is that, a**hole?!

They really mean it. In fact, they'll gladly put you out of your misery so they can enjoy the planet . . . . without you. 

Then there's the recent incident at one of the city parks. This particular park is connected to many trails. When one is hiking on one of these trail circuits, there are frequent signs posted throughout warning of a fine for dogs off leash and to stay on the trails to 'protect the habitat.' I resent these signs and let my dogs roam freely. Why? Because it was less than a month ago that over 50 trees where cut down so that people could enjoy the view of the mountain from the top of this park. Obviously there isn't much real concern for the natural habitat. I'm also sick and tired of hearing yuppies in this area talk about 'the view'. You know what? I could care less about your stinking view. In fact, when I get a home of my own, I'll buy it in the worst neighborhood that ever existed and create my own view with a super awesome garden . . . take that yuppies with your city view.

My dream garden, where I'll be planting trees instead of cutting them down. By definition, this makes me better than you. 

Now let's consider the vegan community. I don't have anything against vegans unless they live in Portland because Portland turns vegans into ultramegatron a-holes. When I do something, I do it based off my own convictions, not because it's the trendy thing to do. Veganism, vegetarianism, and environmentally friendly are very trendy lifestyles here. I cringed when I first shopped at a second hand store in Portland. I didn't understand why the prices were so high.  As it turns out, it's trendy in Portland. I shop at second hand stores because I'm one of the most resourceful folks you'll ever meet. I do it for survival, not because it's the 'in' thing. I also resent that when something is purchased from a second hand store in Portland, it is now referred to as 'vintage'. Really?

I love this woman: "It's not vintage, stupid. It's second hand."

I still shop at second hand stores, but I am no longer am a vegan or vegetarian. Granted, this doesn't mean that I eat meat like it's the last resource on earth. I rarely touch it, but I do not care to be associated with this crowd any longer. If I am a guest in someone's house and meat is prepared for me, I eat it without saying a word because they have been kind enough to offer me food and it would be a horrendous waste and unneeded offense to not eat what has graciously been given to me. I have heard some pretty nasty things come out of the lips in the vegan community regarding this practice. Also, feather earrings and anything that even closely resemble leather is a big no-no. You know what? You stick to your values and don't mind my own. I refused to be criticized for behavior in which there is no fault.

There's a saying here that the residents are quite proud of, "Keep Portland Weird." I think 'Portland is an insane asylum' is closer to the truth. The Occupy movement landed in this city in full force and chaos ensued. I did make my way down to one of their events to see what the Occupiers were all about; I was on the side protesting their existence. That experience is another story. What I took away from this is that the majority of those involved with Occupy had no idea why they were there. When questioned, some would spout of very vague answers and tell me that 'We're doing this for you.' What are you doing? Destroying a city park and wreaking havoc downtown? The response was that the entire thing has been misrepresented in the media and that media is a horrible entity that can't be trusted . . . . I saw the videos posted by Occupy members and bystanders and made my opinion based on the 'incriminating' videos of law enforcement.

Occupy has died down lately, I'm not sure if this is because of the cold and rain, or because at long last the movement has realized that camping in a park, taking over vacant homes, and marching through downtown during business hours isn't doing anything because there is no real action on their part.While those involved in this group complained about how evil and corrupt corporations are, they slept in tents from REI and kept like-minded folks informed of the Occupy status from their iphones and mac computers. That's the definition of a hypocrite if I ever saw one.

Tell me again why you're protesting capitalism? Corporations and material goods?  

I'm going to step off of my soap box for now. In the meantime, I'm working towards an escape back to California where there are people that are sane.