This is it

This is it. It's the moment it happens. The moment where you step out of the stream and say, "I no longer care to keep up with what's current." I always wondered how people don't understand email or refuse to stop writing checks (just use a credit card for god's sake!). But it starts with a moment like this: I don't care who Justin Bieber is.

Oh watch irrelevancy take me over bit by fleshy bit.

Not Ominous, But Something to Consider

Fashion designer Alexander McQueen died. This isn't new news. It was this last February. When it happened it didn't even blip on my radar. I don't follow fashion like I follow other celebritiesm. It's not a world I know.

But something struck me about an article that popped up two days ago in my gmail. It said he committed suicide. And again, maybe this isn't new news but he, at the top of his professional game, felt alone. He died the night of his mother's funeral and obviously he was severely depressed.

Food

Last night I attended the Portland Food Cart Festival with Z and a few friends. I'm capitalizing the letters as if that was its name. I have no idea.  Zach and I talked a lot about the event on our drive home and we were both made uneasy by it for slightly different reasons. I thought I'd be overwhelmed by the crowds but I somehow managed to turn off that part of my brain. (I wish I could remember HOW I did that but that's a work in progress I suppose.)  I even sustained a 15 minute conversation with a super friendly drunk guy behind us in the ice cream line.

Is that Goliath in your Pocket?

During the whole healthcare debate, I never once stepped into a doctor's office. I do have this vague feeling of unease knowing my future access to medicine is through a for profit corporation but really mostly, I don't think about that set of issues. Until today.

Oh, I hear ominous music. It's not. But in the course of an hour I came face to face with some of the health insurance stupidity and I'm amazed this much can exist at the simple fringe. If it's like this for the simple stuff, what happens if I have a baby. Or a car accident. Or cancer.

Half Adult

I am threatened by the doctor's office. Apparently. Or maybe it's the unknown. Probably. (Control issues, what?) I know if I walked into my dentist's and I didn't have some piece of paper, I'd probably be comfortable enough with the system to say, "I'll get it for you," and be pretty sure I'm safe from tar and feathering.

Not so with my (new) doctor's. I haven't seen an official doctor in five years. My experience with the medical community in the interim has been less than pleasant. (With the exception of Z's parents. Who are medicals. And who are great.)

Small Victories

Work game plan. It's small but you know, a journey of 1,000 miles begins with a soda from 7-11. I don't even know what we're talking about.

OK. So:
Every day I save whatever I'm working on to the desk top. Pretty internet pictures. Work word documents. Notes to myself. Then, 20 minutes before the work day is over I clean my desktop. I put all of those random things I've been accessing and saving on the desktop, in their appropriate sub folders. And if I have extra time, I clean a little bit within those sub folders. Then I start the next day with a clean work surface.

The result? World peace. I'm at least 13% sure that's a possibility.

Moving

I ran into a...um...community acquaintance tonight. I was, of course, shoving a cookie into my mouth as she flagged me down and during our brief conversation I kept trying to wipe my mouth just in case I had chocolate caking the corners. Standard operating procedure.

I suddenly felt bad about not inviting her to the wedding. I then decided I didn't care because we are moving.

Ah moving. Every once and awhile I get the sweet taste of what it must feel like for someone who moves as a way to run from life's unpleasantness. It provides a care free avenue b/c well, you won't have to clean up the mess you may be approaching. I admit, in some small way, our move is running. But I feel like instead of running away, it's running toward. Yes, it does afford me moments like the one tonight in the parking lot where I can take all the complicated emotions this person evokes, wad them up into a ball and toss them into the nearest emotional garbage disposal. So, yes, that falls firmly into the running away camp. But then I think about what we are running toward. Evening walks, a friend recently pointed out. Cheese tasting parties. Calling someone last minute for an evening of conversation. Community. Something I've never felt here but for fleeting moments of illusion.

Good bye illusion.