Thursday, August 24, 2006
It's a funny thing, being downtown. I'm hardly ever there, but I hear a lot about it. Over the last 5-10 years Portland has become this liberal-loving, music-making, art-embracing, book-reading, cycle-riding urb/community. That's what gets talked about. I'm not a part of it.
I drove downtown today to cash in on a sweet REI gift card that I received for graduation, and to visit Powell's. Parking at REI is easy- they've got their own small parking garage that's free. Parking for Powell's isn't so easy, and so i ended up in a creepy below-ground labrynth. I was praying to God that I'd find my car again. Or even find my way up to the light.
I used to be so self-conscious walking around downtown, like everyone knew I didn't belong there. Growing up we never ventured downtown, and now, living in the outermost suburb, I can understand why. What a pain to get there.
But now, I've sort of resigned myself to being on my own to do things like this. Try on fleeces by myself, look for books by myself, ask the staff for help many times. Banter with the cute check out guy. Or pretend like I could muster the courage to do that. And think of great banter in the car on the way home.
Ever notice how stereotypical a place gets? I love Portland, don't get me wrong, you all know that (you all?), but it's so funny at times how blatantly obvious everything is these days. I know exactly the type of people I'll see in the Pearl, on Hawthorne, in Gresham. And although I've never been there, a friend confirmed my suspicion that those at Bridgeport Village are exactly as I pictured them.
What's confounding me more these days is the predictability and utter stagnate nature of myself. I act the same, do the same things, think the same way. But, at this time, my life is like the Bermuda Triangle of activity. I feel like I'm doing nothing all day long. And I can't quit doing nothing.
The boy at Best Buy had never seen Bottle Rocket, nor heard of it.
"Good movie?" he asked.
"yeah... you should watch it," I responded.
"well, maybe I'll check it out," he added.
"Yeah, you really, really should. It's great," I had to add all of that, because I was sure he told everyone he'd watch the movies they inquired about.
I drove downtown today to cash in on a sweet REI gift card that I received for graduation, and to visit Powell's. Parking at REI is easy- they've got their own small parking garage that's free. Parking for Powell's isn't so easy, and so i ended up in a creepy below-ground labrynth. I was praying to God that I'd find my car again. Or even find my way up to the light.
I used to be so self-conscious walking around downtown, like everyone knew I didn't belong there. Growing up we never ventured downtown, and now, living in the outermost suburb, I can understand why. What a pain to get there.
But now, I've sort of resigned myself to being on my own to do things like this. Try on fleeces by myself, look for books by myself, ask the staff for help many times. Banter with the cute check out guy. Or pretend like I could muster the courage to do that. And think of great banter in the car on the way home.
Ever notice how stereotypical a place gets? I love Portland, don't get me wrong, you all know that (you all?), but it's so funny at times how blatantly obvious everything is these days. I know exactly the type of people I'll see in the Pearl, on Hawthorne, in Gresham. And although I've never been there, a friend confirmed my suspicion that those at Bridgeport Village are exactly as I pictured them.
What's confounding me more these days is the predictability and utter stagnate nature of myself. I act the same, do the same things, think the same way. But, at this time, my life is like the Bermuda Triangle of activity. I feel like I'm doing nothing all day long. And I can't quit doing nothing.
The boy at Best Buy had never seen Bottle Rocket, nor heard of it.
"Good movie?" he asked.
"yeah... you should watch it," I responded.
"well, maybe I'll check it out," he added.
"Yeah, you really, really should. It's great," I had to add all of that, because I was sure he told everyone he'd watch the movies they inquired about.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
I'm not really sure how to feel about this sort of thing. My grandma is passing away, and it's my grandma that I barely know.
Nobody tells you how to deal with this stuff.
Nobody tells you how to deal with this stuff.
