Me and Julio down by the schoolyard

Can I tell you what's been going on? Would that be alright with you?

Excellent.

Every now and then I'm on the bus, looking at people, and I just get this crazy urge to run a stream of conscousness exercise through a mini cassette recorder that I would be cradling like a small child at all times if I owned such a thing. This morning there were seven or eight other beings on the bus with me, early morning creatures, as this lady-baker is learning to be. The anemic, vampiric teenager; the effeminate man in the black blazer with the collar turned up and a white ring around the top of his J Crew sweater, lending the impression of clergy; several W-Mart greeter types, retired, but not retiring; and myself. I'm sure I look like a haggard addict in the mornings. I usually roll out of bed about fifteen minutes before a ten minute "brisk walk" to my bus stop, rinse my contacts, scarf a muffin, brush my teeth, and do a systems-check of my pockets: keys, debit card, ID, lip balm, bus pass. Some clothes that I appear not to have worn the day before arrange themselves rather miraculously on my body, and I manage to tie my shoes. Sometimes I manage to trot like a bloated caribou toward the bus stop's bench, so as not to trip myself on the laces I have not bothered to tie. As of yet, I have not fallen. 

My fellow riders are less interested in me than I am in them. Unfortunately, my racing mind is attempting to race back to unconsciousness and dreams, and I tap my forehead unpleasantly forcefully on the glass of the emergency exit window. No one laughs audibly. I wonder if the vampire teen can sense how much it hurt. The TriMet employee who catches the bus at the same stop as I do and sits as far from the rabble on the bus as is humanly possible, forward and away from us, leaning into the other driver for some public transit inside gossip is smirking at something, and I wonder if it's my window attack. I looked like the cute little ring bearer at my cousin's wedding who face planted into the ring-bearing pillow about three minutes after delivering the goods. 

The thing is, my mind is making up stories about these people while they're here in front of me, but I've gotten so good at having a job that requires deft hands and a present head, that I'll entirely forget them until the next commute. I feel almost an hysterical need to immortalize them somehow, even if just for myself. We are nothing special, but each minute within our lives is so precious, so meaningful, and so individual. If you look into it, really, it will speak into the rest of your life. It will mark you. Part of the fun is keeping your eyes open while you're being marked.

I am that kid. I'm the kid that refused to look away while my dad pulled slivers or yanked teeth or removed Band-Aids. I keep my eyes on the gory bits of movies, the awkward moments of others, the hilarious and horrific moments of my life. I've watched every tattoo I've gotten

- closely. I want to be breathing in every piece of my life as it happens.

That said, this year is shaping up to be one of the wildest of my life. Maybe wild isn't what you think when you think of me. You're probably right. Or perhaps you just don't know me as well as you think you do. 

I have limited stories about jumping off of things, of kissing strangers, or of international travel. I have endless stories of Jesus walking into the darkness of my life in a whirlwind to put me on top of a new adventure. I get the nip of the lion that says "back in line, kid" and then I get to go be something else to someone else.

This isn't the place to write about those stories. 

2009's first hours saw Laura, Brennan, John, Alex, Kristy, Anne, Shelly, Amanda and Amanda and I in Las Vegas. I saw some fancy fountains, drank (too much), spent (too much), gambled (not enough), but generally behaved myself. I petted a stinger-less stingray, watched someone spoon one of the MGM's lions, inhaled a lot of second-hand smoke, ate the best sushi that could be expected in a land-locked state, and wore little black heels about two times too many. I had a blast.

Adsideo, the family I've been pulled into here in South East Portland (....church, guys) is raining down upon me all sorts of blessings in this new year, as young as the year may be. 

*A team of guys and girls from their New Year's Eve party moved the stuff out of my old apartment and into my new location in the middle of the night after the ball dropped. Apparently the person in charge of setting up that work crew that was going to move me out by the 1st didn't ever get the message that I had to be out by the 1st. 

*The new location is going to be named after authoress and philosopher-ess M. Wynkoop, and is going to mimic a little of what Adsideo has done elsewhere. We minister through the Portland Rescue Mission, taking individuals out of their rehab programs, individuals who show an interest in being part of the Adsideo family and put them in one of our houses, they get jobs, stay connected to the people they live with, grow with us, and generally make us all the stronger. Up to now it's just been two men's houses, but recently a building was donated to our cause, and we're turning it into something that follows the same lines, but for women. I get to be a staff member in that house. It's going to rock my face off, and I'm so excited.

*I'm.....into someone. And someone that I think I ought to be into, for the first time in a few years. No details. Too early. I'm excited about that too, and I hope it rocks my face off.

*Promotion at work! After a long bout of hard experiences, pastry people quitting or being fired, and generally lots of overtime and sweat and flour...I am a shift-lead! It's excellent. Basically the same job I've been doing for months, but now I'm getting paid for it, and I have some actual authority. 

*Searching for a really great Paul Simon Ringtone. Any ideas?

That's basically it, guys. I love my life, and I love you. Call me? :)

Never

I love being able to feel again. Numbness is sometimes the scariest location that one can exist in.

Love is patient (people are people, and we love them anyway)
Love is kind (look out for unintentional hurting. we're selfish creatures left to our own devices, and I think the primary problems with all relationships-romantic, friendly, family and otherwise- stem from having an expectation and never voicing it, then being hurt when it's not met)
Love does not envy (stop being so caught up in what might be, and find peace in what and where you are)
Love does not boast (I have nothing to boast about. maybe you do, but I don't)
Love is not proud (one of the greatest gifts you can give another person is to let them be blessed in helping you. Don't be too proud to ask for help)
Love is not rude (love is gentle, rather than abrasive. love doesn't wear people down)
Love is not self-seeking (love lives for giving to others. It's funny how often the very best thing for me is to do the very best thing for someone else. Even if it hurts.)
Love is not easily angered (it doesn't mean love doesn't get angry. Love is angered over injustice, over inflicted pain, and over things that fly in the face of love. But love is a slow-burner, and it takes a lot to push it over the edge)
Love keeps no record of wrongs (don't let yourself be manipulated, but give people the benefit of the doubt. keep expecting excellence of others, even though it means getting your heart broken. We have hearts in order that they might be broken. This is how we learn to feel, how we compare the gifts of the Lord. Pain is a tool for learning, pain shows us who we are and allows God to heal us. Don't hold things against people, since forgiveness is one of the grandest moments of growth a person can experience, on either side. We have been forgiven much. Go now and forgive)
Love doesn't delight in evil (keep the candles burning to chase out the darkness. There's a reason we don't like it. it is indeed bad for us)
Love rejoices in the truth (speaking of pain, the truth is painful lots of the time. But it cuts away the stifling things that cloud our way, and leads to a kind of healing unmatched in anything else. I'm all for truth)
Love always protects (if God is love, love is a father who is more passionate about his children than any human or animal parent could possibly be. May we reflect a tiny fraction of that kind of love)
Love always trusts (love is a fool. Love lays itself out on the line and gets stepped on, and then does it again the next day. Love can find that amazing balance of trust in its equal, love from someone else)
Love always hopes (absurdly optimistic. Love looks for the next gift, and expects great things)
Love always perseveres (know that the only thing worth having in this life is the true love of God. He offers it, and with it we have breath to get up in the morning, nerves and muscles to move our legs and arms, a reason to hope for another second of life. Persevere for the eternity we are staring into when we accept the gift of love. This life is a journey up a hill, and at the top we can jump in to the catching arms, and need never carry our own weight again for all time. Did you notice that we are hardly carrying our own weight now? this is Love)
Love never fails (here we find a dim reflection of a love that never fails. As long as we are human, we'll fail. it's a hard place to find oneself at, but contentedness comes from knowing that real love, Gods love, God will never fail. nothing moves us from the love that never fails. It's incomprehensible, and more than I can pretend I know much about. Love never fails).

"...and I've been working like a dog..."

Eleven hours at work. I'm sore, I'm hungry, my head hurts, and if Sketchy the Clown (the new nickname we christened the "most likely to have a mail-order bride" dishwasher man) makes one more vaguely inappropriate veiled comment about me having an abusive boyfriend he'd like to murder...slowly....I will go absolutely insane.

Where do these people come from? I mean, there have been some pretty inappropriate exchanges between myself, coworkers, supervisors, pretty much every one on the production floor. There's nothing in it, though. It's harmless. Lil' mexican dudes 1 and 2 are like my crazy little brothers, my supervisor makes fun of me for mooning after the 'dreamy' electrician (he was. he threw my whole day off) and my other supervisor trys to dig himself out of the hole he created with

"so that's what your teachers meant when they said "nice, but..."

*crickets, me with a raised eyebrow*

"that's 'but' with one 'T', 'but dot-dot-dot'.....come on, now."

good times were had.

Sketchy, on the other hand, totally creeps me out. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, and say he's just a lonely guy and I'm nice enough to talk to people...but I haven't been nice. And the kid he works with makes me laugh so much it's hard to do my job. I'm pretty sure Sketchy has noticed the divergence in my attitudes toward him and this other guy...and generally anyone else on the company's grounds. When he started commenting on bruises and scratches I had....(I went home and checked...there weren't any....) I'm still shivery-uncomfortable thinking about it. My life needs no drama.

PS I've been working on thinking about things worth thinking about. Less focus on the negative, way more focus on "what is good and what is pure." It's become a little mantra for me, and I'm sure I look like a goon walking down the street repeating "what is good and what is pure" to myself, but it's working out pretty nicely. So that's a step in the right direction. I suppose.

I'll try and take stupid pictures at work. It's not like we've got anything better to do. Like....pastries or anything.

PPS the yummy treats at the top of my webpage are actually the pastries Delphina's makes. Yum!

Images of my year

Not all are mine, but all represent what Portland has been to me so far. I love this place, and God has blessed me greatly in it, and continues to do so. More stories soon!

Pinwheels

I realized I actually had a story about pinwheels to share.

I've always loved them; pinwheels are shiny, brightly colored, distracting, and send me right back to days when I was five years old and slighly more carefree than I am today. I like the memories I have associated with them. Generally summer, often the Fourth of July. Much like a little firework in my hand, but less alarming than Reservation-quality sparklers, pinwheels were mesmerizing and altogether a good experience. I was that kid who put stuff in her mouth long after she was old enough to know better. I like to blame this on my kinesthetic learning style, and sometimes I like to blame my kinisthetic learning style on this. I'm circular and nonsensical like that. Pinwheels are usually made of that tinny foil, folded and pinned together in the center and when they're going remind me of perpetual motion, or those experiments where mirrors angled slightly proceed into infinity as they reflect each other. Not that they are similar in any way, but perhaps are linked in my mind by the proximity of time by which I started thinking about such things.

Last week, this adorable couple was walking their small sweater-clad dog down the street, and they stopped for a moment and bent down to the ground right outside my kitchen window. My roomie and I were in a discussion about some topic, and I was doing dishes and getting myself a drink. I think we may have been trying to close windows with little success, because my hand was on the dusty metal of the apartment window slider as I watched these people walk by, then pause at our patch of sidewalk. The guy stood up, and where he had be crouched, a sparkly little pinwheel flashed in the sun. I nearly ripped the window open and yelled at them "thanks, we love pinwheels!" but I'm working on being thought of as less insane by my neighbors. So I contained myself. There on the side of the road with nothing growing near it, was now our own little metal flower, a bright little pinwheel facing the street. That's fair, for these things were meant to be shared, and I don't need to be the only one enjoying its shiny little face.

Two days later, a jeep was parked next to the pinwheel, and generally blocking it from view, which I didn't think much of, because I tend to be fairly exhausted when I come home from making a few thousand pastries, and I barely registered its presence as I went about my way in the kitchen. Then I saw some lady fiddling with something on the street, and my eyes went back to the same patch of sidewalk. As she walked away, proud, I could see that she had turned the pinwheel so now people walking down the sidewalk could enjoy it.

I was so thrilled to have someone else on this planet take almost as much interest in the shiny spinning inanimate object as myself. Gold stars for that lady.

Things like this happen in Portland all the time, and they make my day every time.

July is My New Favorite Month

I love it when the future secures itself. Or God lets you think you were doing something right, even when it was pretty obviously entirely Him. This has been a a fantastic week.
I am making a dollar less an hour, but I've given up a job that gave me little joy for a job that will turn into my internship for school, and I'll get to stay in the area and get paid. Paid internships in Portland are hard to come by. Thanks, God.
I have only 5 more weeks left to use school as an excuse for anything, but I'm still in touch with the cool cats who are my close friends from school, it will lighten my physical 'hours available in my day' schedule, and I'll be done with school. If I can manage to turn in all my paperwork for the internship, I will have a degree, and feel like I've finished something for the first time in five years.
I've let something go that was weighing on me emotionally. I'm not going to exposit that one out here, but it's a good thing for sure.
My parents are getting rid of their travel trailer (I'll never be able to say "I'll be in my trailer" ever again....or something..) but I'm getting some rockin' stuff out of it the next time someone makes a Portland trip. Hello toaster oven, DVD/VCR, bizarre electric griddle, and whatever other wondrous joys should appear from the underbelly of the Crow family RV.
It's summer, and it's beautiful. Say a thank you prayer to an awesome God for an awesome season this week.
Living situations are possibly a new and wonderful adventure for the near future, and I'm ready for the challenge. More about that when I have more information and permission to share it.
I'm going to have to do more laundry, but I won't ever have to wear all-black again. That's pretty much the fashion highlight of my life. On a similar note, since I've lost a ton of weight, I have all sorts of pants that don't fit me anymore. Looks like I get to make another Goodwill run. Ask me about my TYRANNOSAURUS LAMP from the last one.
I'm down to one kitty. There's no but here. It's self-explanatory, and beautiful. I love my Max, and I don't need to be responsible for a second one now. At all. Yay one kitty houses.
Happy Sunday, kids.

Incidentally, does anyone want to go to the Zoo on Thursday?