My Blog

10,9, 8, 7 , 6 , ... updated 08.27.08

Peta — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 08:31:27 GMT

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS LIST WILL BE UPDATED AS NEW DATA BECOMES AVAILABLE OR IS DETERMINED RELEVANT I enjoyed a 10 year anniversary this summer. It was 10 years ago that I moved out west. 10 summers ago I was doing much like I did this summer in that I rode my bike around SE PDX and hung out in Laurelhurst park. I lived not far from where I do now. This repetition of history is not lost on me. In fact I think about often. The house I live in is not too unlike my childhood home in Kansas. My housemates Stuart & Hannah remind me of my paternal grandparents Doc & Mickey in the best possible way. So it is very much "home" in that sense. Portland is a great stand-in for Austin, where my family was living when my parents split. Growing up in Kansas after the divorce I often wondered how it would have been different for me if I had grown up in Austin. As a small child it had been my dream to go west. Hollywood in particular because when I was very young I wanted to be an actor in the movies. But then I found out how cool NYC could be and decided I wanted to do more than just "act" so I went to film school in Chicago. It was a blast, all of it and I hadn't regret only for years I was unsure how to proceed with my career and doing what I love to do. My move to Portland in 1998 was a very conscious decision in making a new start. I had wanted to take better care of my health, explore community & spirituality and possibly ... if I was lucky, develop a career for myself. Not long after arriving my health became a huge priority and I changed careers from Hospitality to Social Services. I did indeed find community. Lots of it. And after quite a bit of inner turmoil I sought after romantic love and partnership. Everything I asked for I received and then some. My lessons were not always easy but they were rewarding and I did get lots of help along the way from wonderful mentors, lovers and friends. Chronologically here are some highlights: 1998 - moved to PDX + tested poz 1999 - visited SF & Canada + became social worker + joined Redwind community + began yoga practice 2000 - contracted PCP + went to Sundance + met Guy @ Breitenbush + Naming Ceremony 2001 - went to SF & Canada again + Guy @ i moved in together off Hawthorne + filed bankruptcy + legally changed name 2002 - went to work for OI + became Lakota ceremonial singer + revisited Dallas 2003 - revisited KC & Atchison +Hanblechye + married Guy in Canada + moved to Hawaii + certified yoga teacher 2004 - went to work for Hui Malama + joined Sage's Lakota community + began studying Anusara yoga 2005 - revisited Chicago + became Director 2006 - separated from Guy + visited LA.NY.PDX.Dallas.Boston.DC + moved to SF(Marc)+ then back to HI(Dean) + went to work for Akaku 2007 - Hanblechye + revisited Twin Cities + moved back to PDX + divorced Guy 2008 - TBD ************* THE NUMBERS (a 10 year summation) -- Moved on average once every 6 months to a new residence. Changed jobs at least 1 time each year not including 2008 where I've had acquired jobs at the rate of 1 every month. Owned and sold 4 cars and 1 truck. Married, moved in with, dated, been on a date with or had sex with ...uh, let's see....uh, how about we NOT count that, ok? Acquired more than $50,000 in debt even after filing bankruptcy 7 years ago (student loans included). Argh! Acquired 3 different pronunciations for my name. Owned 2 businesses. Almost died 1 time that I know of maybe more and was told I was going blind but didn't (ha!). ********** PROJECTION FOR NEXT 10 YEARS......... Will make some significant contribution socially in the media field, most likely a local economies based PDXesque webisode series if not something way way cooler. Will become free of debt once again though probably not Student Loans but that'd be super fawking kool yo if so let's do it 2. Will buy a condo or house or land. Will date, f**k and possibly marry an undetermined # of men. Will move south to Ashland, Mt Shasta area or Northern California. Will buy or be gifted or have regular access to vehicle for cross country travel. Will join Wambli community. Will continue community involvement as student, teacher and contributer to the common well being. Will continue to enjoy wonderful beyond average great healthy health, divinely satisfying friendships. Will travel around the US and abroad. Will enjoy surprises beyond measure of good fortune that at this writing are yet unseen.

wash, rinse & repeat repeat repeat

Peta — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 07:04:51 GMT

Yes it true. For months now I have been using the WRONG shampoo.After watering down the last of my Aveda Rosemary Mint and eeking it way past its effectiveness I dashed into Dosha on NW 23rd to find a replacement. For some reason whenever I walk into one of their stores the sales people jump all over me. They are probably trained that way. Still I prefer to be pretty much left alone when I go into buy product. I find the whole process really embarrassing and their yelling " Can I help you find anything" across the store just makes me uncomfortable. So I try to avoid them as much as possible, saying something like, "No thanks, I know what I want" and then snatching it up and heading towards the cash. Only this time they got because I honestly did not know. They've been changing their product line and I am not sure what to buy anymore. While I am willing to experiment a little I am not interested in spending tons of money on stuff that doesn't work. Because as much as I dislike buying the stuff I cannot imagine having to return it. Mirror mirror. In my most self-assured moments I can suck it up and get through the interaction painlessly. This time however I actually did want help as my hair has been drier than dry for months. Itchy, flaky scalp too. I chalked it up to the change of water from Hawaii (where my hair looked amazing and grew like crazy) and a vitamin deficiency due to less sunlight. At its worst a few months back I just shaved my head. Now I have the beginnings of something going on and I am thinking of letting it grow back. But it is distracting me with its ugliness. And if I cannot address that or have the patience to see it get longer then I will do something like bleach it blonde or shave it off again. The former being preferred excepting for the maintenance cost and ONLY because my natural hair color is somewheres between ash green and ruddy red. In fact they don't have my color in a bottle but several. So at least dark golden blonde is something close to looking human. And looking human is always the goal. Mirror mirror. Forget trying to pass as "straight". Most of the time I am trying to pass as "human". I have the body and all the emotions etc only I do not feel very much like I am from this planet. So not being caught as an alien among the hoards and crowds of humans is my objective. Moving along and not attracting too much attention or at least not the wrong kind of attention. Whatever that means. DSM-IV hasn't classified me yet. So the Dosha chick who's loudest and yelling at me from across the room helped me to figure out that Rosemary Mint is the worst possible choice for coarse hair like mine. That would explain the last six months for sure. Ok. So now I have the "right" shampoo and am hoping that it will save me from the bleach or the shavers until I have a coif that is long enough to style back into handsomeness. Then I look really human. Mirror mirror. Earlier that same week I gave up my passport and mailed it off to our friendly Federal government so they might make me a new one. It expired earlier this year. I got it in '98. So the act of renewing it this year brought back all the memories involved with where I was then and where I am now plus how the hell I got here. I was living in Dallas, still named Kevin, and working for Cafe Brazil. In fact I was the General Manager and boss of like 60 people with 3 assistant managers under me. It was the highest paying job I had in my life up until then. I liked it plenty enough in that I got to employ people I wanted to help and they made good money too. Young people in school or just moving out on their own, Latinos new to the US or saving money to move back home. I liked that I had the ability to provide them with a great place to work. I tried my best to make fun, profitable and harmonious. I was working like 60 hours or more a week though and had no real social life to speak of but then I kinda wanted it that way. I had taken a break from dating, even having sex and was celibate. I wouldn't even answer questions about my sexuality. Partly because people in Dallas are retarded about that kind of thing unless they are queer too. Then I might talk to them. Otherwise leave me the hell alone. When pressured I would say, "Since we are not going to have sex I really I don't see the point of discussing my sexuality with you." I also didn't want my staff all up in my personal life. It would not help me in my "boss" role. So I let them make guesses and speculate all they wanted. The one artistic thing I got to do there was book live music. Other than that nothing. All work + No play. For my vacation that April of '98 I went sky diving in Houston with my old roommate Marianne. It was during her being born again period or more specifically something which later meant her not being able to be my friend because Christians are like that I found. In her defense though we did go to really cool Catholic mass with a rock band and huge projection screen. I felt the spirit I did. No lie. Then we ate hamburgers at Fuddrucker's so she could drool all over this yuppie with a BMW type. Totally weird because Marianne used to be an all black wearing bi-polar night clubbing artist model with a tendency towards the dark, dirty and tatooed variety of male. She had turned into a beige-wearing Jesus-loving park-exercising mall-workingTexan with a hankering for the completely ordinary. It'd be like Elvira suddenly turning into Vana White. Mirror mirror. During that Houston visit I got little tiny blonde highlights in my barely-there-so-so-short-hair. I still remember the stylist, not what he looked like but our conversation. It was totally transcendental in this way of the universe is all a spinning-mirror-hologram ideology. I loooooooved it. And I was walk-in! So mystery was at play. Jumping out of that plane in Houston was my attempt to ready myself for the challenges ahead. My return to Dallas afterwards was followed by my resignation, in readying to move to Portland, AND the application for my passport. I wanted to be ready for anything when I moved out west. For instance if I got the chance to go out of country I wanted to be prepared. Which when it did happen was only Canada. And then I married one. (drums) Buh-dum-da. (cymbal crash) Mirror mirror. In my new photo (not pictured here) I look to be a much older man. My face all sunken in from the lipo inducing viral inhibiting meds. Crows feet from all the delicious Hawaiian sun. I used to be so fresh and cute even if I was totally insecure with crooked teeth and all scared of life. It was a trade I guess. (One which I will recount in my next blog). Mirror mirror. My ex's have remarked that I spend a lot of time looking at myself in the mirror. To that I tell them that I do not look in mirrors unless I am alone. In public bathrooms I NEVER look in the mirror unless I am alone. Trying on clothes I abhor anywhere that isn't private. Don't ask me to come out and model. I despise it. Ironically I have no problem being nude in front of a room full of strangers. Or dancing like a crazy person all by myself anywhere at anytime. I am self conscious only in very particular ways. The DSM-IV people are still working on that one. You'll be the first to know. To make up for all that time when I refuse to look at myself then I have to check in eventually at what the years, mileage, stress and environmental elements are doing to me by gazing at my reflection in the privacy of my own home. Subsequently my significant other will remark that I am vain. He, never really understanding that I am incredibly insecure about my vanity, if it could be truly said that I am even vain at all. Mirror mirror. The fact I have this blog is probably my hugest act of vanity. Like an electron microscope video camera shoved up my ass with all the resulting footage post on the web. Guilty as charged.

10 years from now? what do you see?

Peta — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 03:53:27 GMT

Its one of those questions I shrug at and follow with an eye roll. "Honestly, if I want to know the future I can look for myself so I don't bother because I like surprises" is my argument. But today while attending the interactive exhibit Project X at Milepost 5 I decided to answer it. Led through a series of different pieces I got to choose how I wanted to be remembered, plan my next ten years, create action steps towards my dreams and do fun things like drop marbles in buckets with signs on them that read "if you can remember what underwear you are wearing without looking drop a marble here" among other things. Milepost 5 Creative Director, Gavin Shettler gave a tour of the different condo units and talked about the city sponsored artist community project. I felt inspired so I am going to attend a first time home buyer orientation and find out more. Because I decided that I am going to give myself a home for my 40th birthday. I cannot think of a better gift. Long overdue.

success at last ...

Peta — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 03:45:34 GMT

Months ago I felt inspired to introduce my new friend Stuart Watson, who is now my landlord/housemate, to my dear friend Colin. Not sure why, it just seemed the right thing to do. So Colin and I made a date with Stuart and we met up at a coffee shop across from the Hollywood theater recommended by Colin. It was a weird choice in that it was actually a wine shop with an espresso service to make extra bucks on the side. While we enjoyed our hot, tasty, caffeinated beverages awaiting our appointment I looked across at the sign next to the Hollywood Theater marque and saw the logo for Film Action Oregon. It was one of those slow motion kind of moments that made my antenna stand up. Weeks earlier I had sent a hasty email to the director of the organization asked about one of their programs but never got a response. I quickly forgot them. Looking at the sign that day made me reconsider. I realized my email probably sounded crazy to any sane busy person who might read it and that it was no accident I was ignored. That day with Colin I decided to contact them again only this time to inquire about being a volunteer. Over the next several months I would volunteer about once a week. My main assignment was going to all the nearby public middle and high schools to promote the summer program Portland Youth Doc. I rode the bus everywhere and carried huge signs with me on my arm. Some days I doubted my sanity in doing this because I felt afraid I might be putting out a lot of energy for nothing. Something I was warned about in an astrological natal chart interpretation I had read and agreed with on some level. In June I was contacted by Justin, the volunteer coordinator to become a lead instructor on one of the teaching sessions for the summer. It was tricky timing because I had just completed my training at NCNM and wasn't sure if I could get the time off to do it. Then it all worked out and I had the time I needed to devote to the project. It paid better than I had been paid in a long time. A great gift. Plus I had a blast. I loved all my students and they worked really hard. They'd show up early and stay late. I taught them all I could in our short time together and then they had their show on Friday. They were all different kinds of people who got past their differences to work really hard together. The heads of the organization and my co-workers were all very complimentary of my abilities. I felt in some way I had finally arrived in Portland. I was solid in who I was for the first time in months. Today I dug out the picture of them I took on the last day. It made me cry. The experience was so satisfying.

a good showing

Peta — Mon, 25 Aug 2008 03:30:46 GMT

My summer started off with a week long project involving Portland Community Media and the Northwest Institute for Social Change. It being summer NWISC has their program where they train 12 college youth in being media activists. With classrooms donated by U of O in their new downtown digs the young adults embarked on a journey to create a number of different journalist pieces including a short documentary. Which is where I come in ... but wait. I came in a bit sooner. Last April when I was just starting to work full time again and broke as hell I was astrologically advised to go out as much as possible and socialize. So I looked for freebie events to attend. One night this took me to Mississippi Ave so that I might watch a free screening of The Life and Times of Harvey Milk being sponsored by John Branam's campaign run by Phil Busse, ex-Portland Mercury Editor. I arrived on time but the screening room wasn't ready so I ended up hanging out with the campaign team and John Branam's old college buddy Damani, a man who asked me out and then text messaged me afterwards to inquire if I had an STD. Due to my arrival alongside Damani I believe it was assumed he and I were together so I was treated to a free drink at the bar and got into conversation with Phil. Phil had been making headlines in the Willamette Week about his salary for running Branam's campaign, due in part that it was more than other campaign managers were being paid and possibly also because of the old rivalry between WW and the Mercury. It seems also while I was away Phil had made a run for mayor himself back in 2004, so he had that experience. I am not sure who's idea it was to screen The Life and Times of Harvey Milk, a brilliantly depressing film that is for me both inspiring and incites my sense of injustice. After talking with the campaign crew it became apparent they were not really aware of the film's content. They were utilizing the film as a tool in order to conduct outreach to the gay community. At least that's what they said. Whatever the reason didn't matter so much, for me it was free entertainment. Free pizza, free drinks and a date out of the deal. The astrological advice seemed to be bang on. Also, Phil told me about his summer program with the NWISC, an organization that he founded and how they made documentary films. "And what do you do?" he asked me. "Oh...the same thing." I said. He asked for my number which I took as his interest in my being on his staff to teach. I gave him my number and then tried contacting him through the NWISC website but my email addresses are for some reason blocked from certain web designs. Could be the punctuation. I dunno. I gave up. So be it. Fast forward to June and Rivka at PCM emails me to ask if I would be interested in an on-call teaching position. Turns out that they wanted to hire me to work on a collaboration with NWISC. So it all came to pass anyways. Super cool. I was also super nervous, feeling a bit shaky about my technical knowledge. Fortunately I had just taken the PCM field class with Tim Rooney (love love love him!) and so I was well versed in the teaching style and curriculum. I also would be working with the man who got the job that I had applied for at PCM, that of Community Facilitator. His name is Christopher and he's a real class act. We had 12 students for the project and 3 production teams. Each team had a subject pre-selected. My team had Russ, a red haired sweetheart of a guy from Seattle who I just adored. Marc, bright, enthusiastic and fast-talking who I believe just makes everyone fall in love with him. Catherine, a solid, engaged go-getter who kept things moving along out in the field. And Caitlin, a brainy, tough and great technical wiz. The four of them were fun to work with as they all wanted to know everything but at the same time wanted to do everything themselves. Not passive at all. They were all out to win it even though it wasn't a competition. Sort of.... We only had one week to teach them everything and then they were given gear, one month and set loose to produce. We had one field shooting day and really only one day to cover post. Insane. But oh well. Tim, Christopher and I did our best to give them everything we could. When it was all over Christopher was very complimentary towards me as was Phil and the other founder Lewis. (both of whom I one day saw walking down the street together outside the PDC offices while I was shooting for PCM....a foreshadowing )It was a big boost to my confidence and helped me prepare for my next project Portland Youth Doc. I realized that I hadn't taught college age before and that I liked it very much. They were mature but youthful all at the same time. Sooooo great. A week ago last Wednesday NWISC had their screening. I emailed out a bunch of invites and my friends Kevin, Paul and Colin all came. There was a dj, food, free drinks and even aisle beverage service during the show. Incredible. While there were some aspects of the program that I would like to see improved I was overall really glad with everything. I found out too that Sam Adams sits on the board. His name seems to come up a lot every where I go these days so I must be due for another "siting". Now my students are all gone back to their colleges or hometowns. A summer of memories recorded in digital video, audio and photography not to mentioned etched into their minds. Leaving me here to wonder if I will get to work with the program again next year. Something I would like very much. I also considered for half a minute on joining their board but I am not so certain. Maybe. Only if it doesn't interfere with my working for them. That could be tricky.

long night

Peta — Fri, 22 Aug 2008 23:23:10 GMT

The call came in just as I was leaving the clinic last evening. Someone was sick and would I be up to working the over night shift? It was transitional housing where I sub from time to time. A chill gig in that I get to drink coffee, eat food, go online, read and when I am needed I get to hang out with the youth. And we talk about life. Relationships are a big topic. School. Work. Family even sometimes. Though that's a touchy one. It took a little time but once the youth got used to seeing me on occasion they began opening up to me. I usually let them approach unless they look particularly troubled. I stay open and receptive. And the conversations we have are generally very interesting. I enjoy relating with them and feel pretty good afterwards. Judging by they way they respond I would say it's mutual. I am a firm believer that simply listening to another person, really listening, what's called active listening, can be powerful. I try not to be totally passive about it in that I respond with gentle debate, tell stories or even entertain. And allow myself to be entertained. I've been in a very self reflective mode lately so staying up all night fit my mood. My co-worker, an older woman who wouldn't talk about her age other than to say she was "older than she looked". She asked me, and it's a first, if anyone ever told me I looked like Mick Jagger. My horrified response led her to add, "a young Mick Jagger". I didn't hold it against her. An aging rock star persona? Guilty as charged. I haven't been enjoying what I've been seeing in the mirror lately. I look old. Tired. Worn out. And a bit broken down. After lights out she asked if I wanted to watch a movie. I went through the library and decided upon Reality Bites. I believe I'd only seen it once when it came out in theaters. I was failing out of film school at the time busy impregnating my best friend turned girlfriend Yuki and smoking lots of pot to forget about a lot of things. Like student loans and my ex-boyfriend. So the characters in this film Reality Bites are all ones I can relate to on some level. One character is gay, another loves the 70s, one is a struggling artist who's blown through a gazillion jobs and the star is a film maker who wants to succeed without selling out and she attempts this by documenting her friends lives. It was writ to be very generational at the time. With everyone using lines from commercials as daily dialog such as, "Sometimes I get that not so fresh feeling" or "How do I feel? Packed with Fruity Flavor". Very Gen-X. Which is why I chose the film. I wanted to watch something very personal AND historical. Of course while watching it, I start going down memory lane. Its set in Houston so there's Texas memories not only Chicago film school ones through in for good measure. I marvel at how pretty Winona looked but how terrible her acting had become by that time. She and Ethan Hawk have the same haircut. A cute no style style but with character and mutability. Not long or short. Ambiguous. I vow to grow my hair immediately. Then I start to cry and feel self conscious. I do not remember at what point. Maybe it was a couple of the characters who were obsessing about AIDS. I do not want to cry here. So I try not to cry ...which I hate doing. I will be up all night and then go home to catch a nap before going to the Docupolooza show at the Hollywood Theater where my students will be screening their documentaries. So I am happy about that. I feel successful in that. I will happily do more of that. And I need to contribute something else to the mix. Something to call my own. As I've blogged before. I will say, "I did that". So time to get crackin'. Tonight ain't the night though. Nor this weekend. I have been test piloting my new approach to romance. Embracing what scares me the most. Where for some it would be intimacy for me it is singularity. So I am meeting and celebrating the single. I am imagining myself as an older man who has much love in life. For instance, his own home that he opens up from time to time to friends, family and loved ones. Nothing fancy, something simple and cool A city dwelling that can be rented out or looked after when I am off on adventure. Steeped in the natural world deep in ceremony or traversing some thriving metropolitan. I am imagining myself as this older man and I have a strong spirit still. Good health. Enjoyable work. Community ties. Family respect. But definitely a solo agent. Lovers but not a partner. Young, old and everyone in between all around me as friends, students and mentors. From all backgrounds. In all shapes, colors and sizes. Lots of flavor. Very Fruity. Very. Yes, I am imagining myself as this older man. The stories I will have to tell. Wisdom to share. And still with optimism I will see the future. And still with wonderment that I will behold the present. Accepting more fully than ever my place in the scheme of things. This short go around we have on this globe.

you can't make me

Peta — Tue, 12 Aug 2008 04:59:44 GMT

It had taken weeks to arrange our getting together for dinner then it seemed to last only minutes. Joy and I had been playing phone tag for awhile and trying to decide dates. Once we finally nailed one then we were determined. He told me Cody was looking for to it. He calls me Uncle and I love that. Before he could finish his dinner however he got into a power play with Joy about wanting to watch a movie. I was proud of how Joy handled it. Once were out of ear shot he confided... "My shrink said not to engage just let him have the fit. Also not to tell him the consequence right away because he might weigh it against his action. There always has to be a consequence however." On the kitchen door there is a posting for points that Cody gets if he behaves well. With good behavior he gets rewards such as movies, books read to him or toys returned that were taken away. Its a structure that Joy was a bit hesitant to use at first only he found that it actually works. The alternative was not acceptable. He was having to leave work in the middle of the day to retrieve Cody from school for disrupting class with screaming and tantrums. Cody is having quite the journey in this life time. What with being adopted and then developing Leukemia. He is very lucky to have Joy as a Dad because he's so determined to do right by his son. I know they love each other very much. After calming down Cody was able to have me read to him before bed. He had snuck into Joy's room and found these books that were actually gifts intended for xmas. Joy let that one slide I guess. The stories were beautiful. Both were about Native American boys going on adventures with animal Spirits. Super cool. I loved reading them to Cody. He was asleep pretty quickly after that so Joy and I could have our adult talk and catch up. I hadn't hung with them since that day in the park months ago when they'd first met Eric. We had a great visit then I had a rigorous bike ride home.

hey kids it's time to play "what's my gender?"

Peta — Mon, 11 Aug 2008 05:58:11 GMT

"Take MY picture!!!" s/He yelled as s/He walked down the street towards my friend Paul S. and I. Paul having just arranged some garbage on the street that I was photographing outside of Mary's Lounge, an notorious downtown strip club. We were having a conversation about art after spending the day with photographer Paul Dihlquist and then taking in the exhibit at Blue Sky. I was relating to Paul S. how I had remembered a quote, not sure if it was Warhol or who, that said, "In the future artists will not make art but designate what art is" or something such as that. To prove my point I explain how I would come across rubbish and graffiti that looked like art to me so I would photograph it. I stopped dead in my tracks to illustrate my point before a pile of trash set against a Waste Management green can all spray painted. Paul S. though decided he needed to better "arrange" the trash however so he took to quick "touch up" of the subject. Around the corner s/He came. "Take MY picture!!" peace symbol raised to face. So I did. Upon her/his leaving Paul S. made some mention of "her" and I quickly debated that no indeed it was a "him" So we reviewed the photo and I instilled some doubts in him. Now he couldn't decide what gender that person was and we both had to laugh. It was only not much early at brunch that Paul S. was remarking on how the trans community was turning all understanding of gender on it's head. Not to mention sexuality. Eric Pavey refers to those cute trans girls2boys as "Portland's mascot" and I believe the truth of that. So sure ... I'll take your picture. "Look for it on my blog!"

a boy n' his bike --- the love affair

Peta — Sun, 10 Aug 2008 05:56:35 GMT

Learning to ride was HUGE HUGE deal for me. In a family of 5 boys and one lone girl there was enough testosterone to power a rocket engine to the moon. Most of my days in early youth were spent trying NOT to get run over or knocked upside the head. Either accidentally or purposely. Being slim and sensitive, described as "imaginative" and being a bit fey, I wasn't as prone to the rock em' sock em' good times of my sibs with their baseball bats, balls tossing of various sorts and rough housing to the point of being bruised. I eschewed contact sports AND basketball. Didn't mind volleyball. Could give a rats ass about things such as golf (my mother and her family's obsession) I certainly enjoyed being physical and was deeply imprinted with competitiveness but in my own "special" way ... better expressed in the swim pool doing laps, running long distance or even maybe a friendly game of tennis. Nothing's changed much in all those years. I would much rather doing yoga or go dancing for hours on end than find myself on a softball field for instance. Its not that I lack coordination. In fact over the years I've found that I can indeed get decent at about any sport in which I am adequately coached and practice. I just lack the passion to play such things. Both of my parents were jocks and as a total jock that my dad was my mother even out jocked him. She is by far the superior athlete in the family and masters every sport. She's super human in that way. Takes after her mom. Both were the wiliest of tomboys in their youth. I did inherit enough sporting genes to not make a total ass of myself should the occasion call for it. I like to think I am comfortable in my own skin and live in my body. But it did not come easy. I had a lot of insecurities to get over and that meant constantly comparing myself to my brothers and sister who were all either great at sports or loved playing them. Second oldest Lee shared with my younger brother Dylan the similar "fearless" quality that often set them apart from my other brothers Jere and Kennedy. Lee for instance and held the record in the neighborhood for jumping over the most garbage cans. I don't know how many at last count but it was something like 15. It was stunts like that impressed and amazed my father to such an extent he wouldn't even get upset for the possibility that my brother my just render limbs and land himself in a vegetative state. My mother acted mortified but I believe deep down she was also impressed but knew it was her role to chastise such behavior. So instead of jumping garbage cans Lee spent his time building bicycles. He made everyone in the family one at some point. They were cool too just like him. And he didn't think a thing of it and no one taught him how. It was just what he did. He figured it all out on his own. When Dylan was around 5 Lee gave him a bike. Before you knew Dylan was riding. To my horror, being 2 years Dylan's senior I could still not ride without training wheels. Not that we had training wheels because no one in my family believed in them. I was so distraught over Dylan's new found freedom that I cried to my grandmother with whom we were living in Kansas following my parents divorce in 1974. She didn't much abide crying though she put up with my sensitivity since I am sure it triggered her. Instead she tried to motivate me to learn how to ride. And my grandmother knew even at a young age how I was best motivated. She offered me money. $5 in fact if I could learn to ride. And I need only ride one block. It was a lot of money to me and my siblings at that time. She had not offered it to anyone else. Needless to say I was riding by the end of the day and pocketed the cash to the confusion of my younger brother. After that I fell in love with bicycle riding. To this day when I push off on a bike I am overcome with the greatest sense of joy. That memory of prosperity and freedom still ringing throughout my being. I rode Lee homemade bikes for years until my father bought me a bike one Christmas. It was a generous holiday that one of which there were only a couple in my childhood. This bike was brown and tan with banana handlebars. I rode that bike for many years. Mostly in the summer to and from swim practice. Occasionally to school. As I got older however I gave up bike riding. In fact I laughed at my mother when she told me to ride a bike to high school. I could not fathom the embarrassment. I associated it no longer with freedom but poverty. I think I rode to school once and only once. She or someone else drove me everyday for most of those years. Dylan too. I remember borrowing my friend Heather Marie's bike when I lived in Kansas City in the early 90s. Other than that I did not own one and still associated them with poverty. Not until I moved to Brooklyn in the mid 90s did become inspired to bike ride again. I bought a gorgeous vintage model, heavy made of steel, from a shop in the East Village for something like $80. Or I made my boyfriend at the time Shingi buy it for me. I cannot remember which. I rode it all over Williamsburg and Greenpoint during my days as a chef/waiter/bartender at Oznot's dish. I love love loved my bike!!!!! I would chain it with a simple lock and chain to the entrance of the L station on Bedford Ave whenever I darted off to Manhattan. It was never ever disturbed though it would have been nothing to cut the chain and walk off with it. Bikes of that variety were not much in demand I guess. I was very daring on my bike. Rode against traffic. Took lots of chances and thrilled at my ability to cheat injury and death. Until one fateful evening... I was working a double and decided to dash home between my shifts. I was wearing dark clothing and it was just getting dark so I decided to play it safe and obey the traffic laws for a change. I was of course run over by a giant Cadillac. Swarms of people rushed out into the street as I struggled with the mangled mess that was now my beloved bike. "You should sue him!!!" the crowd was yelling. But honestly I could care less. Sure my knee was a bit bruised but I was so much more sad that my bike was a wreck and beyond repair. I walked away from the accident in a daze even as the man apologized telling me he was a doctor and that I should contact him about compensation. I didn't care. I was so sad. I chained my bike to the nearest lamp post and limped the rest of the way home. It would be years before I would own another bike. This time while I was in Dallas in the late 90s. A weird guy named Steve who was desperately selling off all his belongings offered his bike to me for $100. I rode it to and from work until my boss informed me that I would have to buy a car in order to keep my job. That bike stayed with me upon my move to Portland in 1998 until 2003 when I moved to Hawaii. I loved having a bike in Portland. In fact I felt that incredible sense of freedom and daring again. I was in several accidents during those years. Once a woman lost control of her truck upon seeing me in a crosswalk, I believe she didn't know how to drive stick and was stoned. She was so gorgeous however that I couldn't get mad at her. She tossed me in the back, offered me some weed (I declined) and drove me home. I had the wheel replaced. Another time my wheel needed replacing after I was hit trying to dart across busy traffic on Sandy Blvd running late to yoga class. I had it repaired once again. Then another time the wheel was stolen off of it while it was locked up outside my house in NE when I lived with KJo across from Common Ground inner city hot tubs. That sucked. I almost gave that bike away after my Naming Ceremony in 2000 but thought better of it. That bike saw me through quite a bit and in my last years in Portland didn't get much riding as my yogi Timo convinced me to walk more so I could stretch my hamstrings. I gave that bike to Lilly-Marie (see blog post Sweet Lilly) and it sat in her storage shed the entire time until just recently. I thought I could get it repaired but it was in pretty bad shape just from rotting away for 4 years. Upon my second move to Hawaii from San Francisco in 2006 I bought a beautiful bike that I rode to work along the ocean from Paia to the tv station Akaku. I pretty much gave that bike up when I bought my friends car and then gifted to my friend Nancy Halley and her son who were such good friends to me during my last many months on the island. Nancy reports they ride the bike a lot these days with the souring gas prices, already high due to living on Maui in the first place. I bought my newest bike from Community Cycling Center on Alberta St. in Northeast Portland. I had decided months ago that I liked the work they did and wanted to support them. For about $200 I got the bike and all the accessories. I've been riding it for weeks now and already my hamstrings and lower back are getting tighter so I do yoga to help them stay loose. My butt gets really plump and juicy from bike riding which I like though. My thighs have thickened and expanded so that all my pants fit tight on me now. All in all I do prefer walking but I've a need for speed right now since I am commuting to Hollywood every day. 15 minutes as opposed to an hour. I then have to make up that time doing yoga to counter act the benefits of riding my bike. Due in part to the genes I inherited from my mother, who is very muscular, I am getting quite muscular as well. When that happens I begin to look stocky and my body starts to appear square-ish. Still every time I push off on my bike and set out on a new adventure for the day I am filled with joy. Nothing compares.

eat your weenie

Peta — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 06:17:43 GMT

"You're doing a great job. It's hard to find an instructor who can not only befriend the students but also push them to their edge. Rather than say merely wanting to be liked and not challenging them. I'm not just saying this for your ego either. " A week left of my summer teaching gigs. But of course yeah, I appreciate praise and it could be said work too hard for it. I do my best to "show up" every day and give what I got. While I am relieved that my students work is most definitely theirs and not mine I still apply myself to the balancing act of giving advice but not forcing my own agenda. It ain't easy just hanging back at times when I see the picture so clearly for myself how it "should" be done. In a way it's not unlike my years in film school where I learned that I needed help to achieve my visions. The result being that everyone who worked on my film added their own interpretation to it. The final project was not solely my own but a collaboration. Or as Tom Spanbauer once told me in reference to his books, "my child set out on its own into the world". I could if I desired make something exactly as I see it. Demand the desired results from others or just do it all myself until I am satisfied. There exists little appeal in that for me. Still within me right now something creative is wanting to be born free. Shared nonetheless but conceived and given its life by me. But more on that at another time. For now I am finishing the challenge I undertook. Its pace, structure and compensation saving me from what sure to be total burn out from working my so many jobs. And the enjoyment of which will culminate in the coming weeks as my students screen their works for local audiences. What resonates beyond this time remains to be seen and yet I feel it right now. As though it has already happened. A ripple in the stream of time you might say. After work today then off on my bike making tracks to Hawthorne I parked outside the Bagdad and then noticed my friends MJ and his partner Michael standing in line for Iron Man. I snuck up on them to say "hi". I had forgotten just how tall MJ can be. Even on tippy toes I was barely able to hug him. He was wearing his favorite color pink. And beside him was a newly mustached Michael concealing a short mohawk underneath a baseball cap with a patch for the Multnomah County Sheriffs Office. They said the flowers I had given them for their house warming continue to grow. It seemed like they were on a date but they invited me to join them anyways. Once at the door it became apparent our night at the movies was not to be. Michael had recently lost his wallet it being a brew and view they would not let him inside without id. So they resorted to plan B, which involved pizza across the street (hadn't been there in years) and a visit to Powell's Books. We caught up a bit. MJ started 3 new businesses and Michael quit his non-profit start up Dirt Makes Food in order to finish his massage board exams. Conversation was without much flow. Both were entranced by the lively improvisation yet real life street theater that is Hawthorne in the summer time. In the background a man sung on a guitar the most depressing music. I couldn't imagine anyone giving him money because the personal sorrows that he sang sounded hollow and whiny. Unreal. MJ&Michael spoke of going back to their place in order to watch Shortbus (one of my favorite movies) and drinking beer. I had half hesitated at the door of the Bagdad to bid them farewell and see the movie on my own. It was a hard call only I never see them and making plans to connect rarely work out. A night at the movies by myself seemed like a good time. Over dinner I sensed that their relationship was going to end soon. It was an intuition and not one that I wanted to call attention to itself or share or even probe through them to justify. I tried instead to be entertaining but failed in my attempt. They were a tad humorless. Which is odd for these 2 since I usually share quite a few laughs with them. It reminded me of the time I sensed that my friends Marc and Will's relationship was going to end. I sat through an Indian dinner with them and listened to their strained laughter. All the time wondering if either of them was aware that it was over. Truth was going to prevail itself and didn't need my prodding it along. Call it what you will. I am not attached to what I sensed. Like when I can tell a woman is pregnant. Somethings just "there". Hadn't seen either of them since Pride in early summer when I took this picture of Michael devouring a hotdog. He was as adorable that day as he is on every other. He has the stature and hazel eyes of the men in my family. He has their beauty as well and I find myself attracted in an uncomfortable way. Around Michael I am usually guarded so as not to overly express my attraction. Its a bit hard to explain why but I believe it has to do with the fact that he is in relationship too. And I don't care if they say they are poly and have even playfully propositioned me on occasion. There's a complexity I sense there that tells me its not safe to go down that path with either of them. Friendship however is something I continually attempt and cultivate but for the slight disconnect. Whether its the feelings of competitiveness with MJ vs my strong attraction to Michael, all that comes of it is nagging awkwardness. Alone with either of them and everything is cool. Together something is not quite right. Clunky and without flow. So I usually deduce it is the culmination of our 3 energies. Whatever that may be. Off we went from pizza induced people watching to the all ever famous Powell's. MJ turned me onto a great book that documented a brilliant graffiti artist named Bansky who is also known to sneak his framed works on the walls of prestigious museums. Subverting thought wherever he goes. Brilliantly so. Michael in turn showed me a much coveted treasure he found that was a surprisingly wise spiritual text who's paperback cover was super New Age cheese but who's pages were filled with great insight and observation. Sage advice disguised as self help rhetoric. Powerfully simple. In hindsight those books were such mirrors of each of them. And telling in why I love each ..... After walking me to my bike they bid me farewell. It was an unspoken agreement that I would not go to their home. I was starved for my much cherished alone time after work and hadn't the energy or want to continue socializing. Another day. Most likely this autumn when I feel more up to such things. These days the brief encounters with dear ones will need to suffice.

a turn of the wheel and the past collides with now

Peta — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 06:53:03 GMT

Her name is Katrina Kennedy and she was born on September 11th and she loves the fact that she has disaster writ 3xs. "Hurricane Katrina. The tragedy of all those Kennedys dying and of course 9-11." she'll tell you if you ask. For some reason she considers this to be lucky. I met her in Dallas at Club 1 back in 1996 when on she was only 18. I was with my boyfriend Kevin (not to be confused with Brutha Kev from my previous post) at the time and some friends of his. I had just been fired from my job at Cafe Society for making out with Kevin in front of the restaurant. I was kissing Kevin goodbye standing next to his window as he was sitting in his car preparing to drive away. I didn't consider my show of affection to be much of anything really but the new manager, some uptight ex-military closeted queen did and he was going to read me the riot act. When he tried to lecture me I interrupted by loudly callingl him a "self hating homophobe" and he fired me on the spot. I didn't really care though. I was getting bored with that job especially since the previous manager Marsha or as I would say over the loud speaker "Marsha Marsha Marsha", a so very hot to trot lezby-fem who was butt loads of fun had quit. Supposedly they were going to promote me or something. They didn't last long after firing me. Closed up shop a few months later. No big loss. That first night of my "liberation" from Cafe Society I met up with Kevin, his friend from LA and a local friend ala nemesis who reminded me a lot of Kurt Wagner a classmate from my childhood. We had cocktails at JRs then headed back to "Kurt's" house to do crystal meth. Naive as f**k about crystal I had to ask them what it was even. Yes, I know... I was 27 years old and should have known what it was already having tried just about every other drug but I didn't ok? "Its speed" Kevin answered. "Oh..." I didn't figure on what it would do to me. See I am very sensitive to that kind of sh*t. F**ks me up for months after just one time using it. We heated it up one some foil and smoke it through a glass straw. Next thing I remember I am posing for the 3 of them outside in the road wearing some crazy get up while humping a disco ball. Then I remember getting f**ked by "Kurt" while Madonna's Truth or Dare played on the VCR. He was hung and I loved how it felt inside me. I begged for it not to stop. Kevin was downstairs fuming while I was getting plowed by the one man in all of Dallas (save his ex a total goof nicknamed Pagoda) who he dreaded the most. Later we all got dressed and headed out for the evening. I remember that DJ Dimitry was in town playing at a club in Deep Ellum. I had stalked him and shat on his sliver rooftop in NY. That night however I found myself decked in some bright orange plastic outfit hanging out at Club 1. I didn't really care for the club, I was often bored by it. After NY pretty much everything sucked by comparison. The music. The crowd. All of it. Boring. Thank goodness for hard drugs. At some point I ended up in Katrina's lap. She had gotten in on a fake id and mistook my being high and crazy as flirting with her. We sat underneath black lights that made her large eyes glow bright scary white. I asked her, "Are you real? Are you a vampire?" She was dressed in all black and very spooky to me in my drugged out state. That was in late May of 96 and I believe by sometime in July I came down off that high. Kevin and I broke up. Quelle surprise. We made up later but never really got it going again. I really liked dating him. He was fun. We did lots of art projects together and would make up ceremonies. He was a photographer who had just returned to Dallas after years living in LA. I had encountered him years before that when I lived in Dallas back in 1990 and it was totally weird that I had ended up dating him and really liking him. Back in '90 He was ahead of me in line at Club A (how original these names huh? Dallas sucks ass man) and my friend Robin complimented him on his Pirate style shirt. It went great with his black lyric cycle style shorts and black leather boots. He had ringlets of the most glistening and oil enhanced variety tumbling off his head. He seemed high on something. His response was, "Its a Sprouse (as in Steven)!" Not even a "thank you" for the compliment or my favorite "me too that's why I wear it". I hated him then. I watched him that night and another night at the famous Starck Club running around being the Club Kid that he was. For that time he was rather the local celebrity. When I met and dated him years later he was recovering from all that. Still he had his connections in that scene and really missed it from time to time. I thought his longings insipid for all those people seemed really shallow to me. One of his friends came visiting back from NY and it turned out later she was involved with the murder of a club kid back there. They made a movie about it called Party Monster with Muhcully(?) Culkin playing the lead role (rather well I might add) and Kevin's friend was played by that girl from the movie Slums of Beverly Hills. The blonde one with the italian name that I can't remember. She also played in the gay comedy But I'm A Cheerleader. She looked a lot like Kevin's friend only much skinnier. Kevin's friend was like a giant planet of a human being and all in flannel. She screamed a lot when I met her. It made sense to me later as I am sure she was paranoid about the FBI being after her. She hid out at Kevin's place for awhile. I doubt he knew she was involved in the murder. It kinda of aggravated me that she was there. Not only because she was annoying and grouchy not to mention getting on Kevin's nerves as well BUT I had wanted to move with Kevin and he said he wanted to live alone. So be it. Live alone and harbor Club Kid Fugitives from the Law wanted for murder. See if I care. End digression. Months after meeting Katrina and then later not believing I had at all I met her again. She was working as a barista at the Borders Books near my house. I didn't recognize her at first because she was looking now all wholesome. She was probably wearing a white t-shirt and overalls as she did that a lot in those days. When I figured it out I had a huge laugh. In the daylight and me not on crystal meth she definitely looked like a real human being. We became friends and later she would track me down in Portland and come visit. She decided to move there herself and later would tell me that my being in Portland gave her the courage to do so. That was sweet because I had no idea. She always seemed to have her sh*t together with those kind of things, not needing any help. Once she had arrived though we didn't hang out much. She got busy with her own life. I ran into her on occasion but I think I wierded her out with my HIV and name change etc. I lost track of her while I was in Hawaii and didn't think of her again until I moved back to Portland. Then one day ... and I have to admit I was expecting it, she was just there. I was at the Starbucks near Rochana's house and she came walking in as if she too were expecting to see me. Turns out she lived close by Rochana. So funny that. As a result now we stay in touch more. She's resolved never to loose track of me again. Our getting together now is random. Spontaneous and we talk a lot. Sometimes non-stop for hours on end. Tonight I asked her to join me at the Mr Gay Latino Oregon contest where my friend Felipe was performing (I hope that she forgives me enough to hang with me again). Felipe and I used to work together at Outside In and since my return we've not been able to meet up. A phone conversation once, some texting back and forth. I ran up and kissed him hello at the Pride Parade as he floated by then chatted with him briefly later down at Water Front Park. He'd text me to say that he was performing tonight and dedicating it to me since he had been so busy that we had not been able to hang out. I didn't hold that against him however because since I've been back he's broken up with his long term boyfriend (who's children he was co-parenting), gone back to school and moved maybe twice. Felipe I just love. He is the kind of man who is so real. Honest. Caring and passionate. A Leo. So in honor of the recent solar eclipse I decide to do something I would not normally do, as in go to Darcelle's -- a smoke bar full of pancaked, dowdy drag queens, and cheer my friend on as he performed. The cynic in me said that he only told me he was dedicating his performance because he felt guilty about our not hanging out. The romantic in me wants to believe that this man Felipe who I know to be an honest man meant what he said. Katrina and I met up early and shared some food while she filled me in on her latest conquest. She's like a gay man when it comes to sex. She really goes after it and enjoys the conquest. I love that about her. She was spending her afternoon rehearsing for a fashion show that'll benefit P:EAR an arts program for Homeless Youth. Felipe looked good. While I sat there in that bar however I remembered that I sat there 7 years ago and cheered Felipe on as he won his crown and became Mr Gay Latino Oregon 2003 despite the fact his back up dancers bailed and his whole routine fell apart for the talent portion of the contest. I am convinced it was rigged but I haven't any qualms about such. Guy was with me back then, it was soon before we departed for Hawaii. I started to feel a bit nostalgic for those days. But I vowed never to go back to that show. It was unorganized and everyone lip-sync'd. Really boring. I wanted to yell at people to just dance or really sing (I mean c'mon....I know they can!!) because otherwise it just comes across as ridiculous. Like something I would watch while I was in high school in another kids basement. I paid $20 (both Katrina and me) and $4 for a gingerale for this? I mean really???? I got sick off the smoke and we snuck out early. Text'd Felipe to call me so we get hang. Katrina and I did have a blast taking pictures down by the Water Front though. And I am so glad for the friends I have in my life. I would do just about anything for them. Night.

meaningful meanderings of me~ness

Peta — Sun, 03 Aug 2008 05:47:04 GMT

Heard a remake of Johnny Cash's IT AIN'T ME BABE and now that song plays constantly in my mind. When the movie Walk the Line came out a few years back I bought the CD and played it over and over again. That's how I do with music. If some unfortunate person happens to be around me during those times they inevitably get irritated. "Can we change this?" they will say. But in truth I'd rather not. I like the songs to become ingrained heavily in my memory and with them all the sensations of that time. For instance whenever I hear the Walk the Line soundtrack I cannot help but remember driving the beautiful back country roads of Haiku. I remember the goat farm we lived beside, the incredible warmth and sunshine of waking everyday surrounded by gorgeousness. The view of the ocean from our lanai. (in truth I hated our rental but loved the view...the best we in all our moving around) The other night all those memories came flooding back and I just wept. I miss Hawaii more than I can say. Speaking of which my uncle Junius and Auntie Malia came through town. It was a bittersweet visit since they were here for such a short time and Malia wasn't feeling well. Nor was her hostess and ex-student who when I met her was limping around downtown with a sad looking ice sack tied to her knee. I had to reach down pretty deep for compassion in those moments because truth to tell I wanted to be alone with my family in a quieter place so we could tell stories and laugh like we do. Instead the visit was a bit strained, quick and polite. Later on I cried about it because both of them are getting older and I have so much love for them. Malia turns 70 in October and will be having a big party in Austin. What possibly could IT AIN'T ME BABE playing in my head be all about other than Hawaii and the visit from my family? Well it pretty much sums up how I am feeling about romance these days for one. For two it's a good song and the lyrics are catchy. Lately though I've been fantasizing about living alone. Stuart and I talked about it even. He's been kind to give me space to figure that one out. Been awhile since I have...lived alone that is. When I first moved to Chicago and went to film school I had a shitty little studio right next to the L tracks in Wicker Park with a shared bath for almost $400 a month. It was only 10 x 15ft and I loved it. My friends however who lived down the street, Ben, Gala and Brett, all made fun of me. They shared a huge place and paid less a piece than me. "Why are you living here?" I remember Ben asking me when he came by to it. Its a long story about how I ended up there but more importantly I loved it because it was all mine and after growing up with a gazillion family members all under one roof it had never occurred to me that I would live alone. In fact I never did my whole adult life up until then. Not including living with my brother Jere in Dallas which was much like living alone. No furniture, no food in the frig and I didn't pay rent plus the building was swank which made it all the more interesting. I didn't have a the magnetic passkey so every day I had to scale the security gate to get into the place where I lived. Years later I went by and did it again just for fun. Even went swimming in the pool. By that time many more luxurious complexes had sprung up in the area and it was no longer the swank it had been. I lived alone for a short time in Portland about 10 years ago before Nickolas came back from Canada to finish his degree. Walking by that same building just the other day with a film crew in tow one of the youth stopped in front of the building and said, "this looks like something out of New York City!" I was inclined to say that I had lived there before but didn't. Later that day Nickolas text me from New York where he and Laura are visiting to say that his ex Mirika just called him from New Zealand. Wha? What does any of this have to do with anything? Not much really...just threads of thoughts swimming in my head perhaps looking to assemble and create some meaning. Or not. Living alone. Being alone. Past present future. All that. If only I could envision my future I am sure I could create it. But maybe now is good enough and I'll let the future just arrive in it's own time. Things I want to remember of this time. Timo moved away to San Diego. My beloved yoga teacher. I will miss him. I owe him the world. Namaste Timo. Nunpa said that he loved me in an email. Having been laid off from work he's spending more time with Damon and working on his laid after negotiating a good unemployment package. I wrote to tell him about how I was spending this year alone in ceremony and what that meant to me. How I cried one afternoon just staring up at that sky because I was so happy. Aho! Horoscope says that this year is the most important for my career and will affect the next 30 years! Yikes. Good thing I am so interested in my career right now. But as I said to Stuart the other day I do not intend to have my career become my life. It is however very compelling to me right now and full of surprises. Like my recent teaching stint. I am enjoying it so much. I recall how Linda at Akaku wanted so much for me to be a teacher and I just fought her on it. Now I see she was right and that I was lacking the confidence I needed. Anymore though I feel solid about teaching. In fact Ira Sachnoff called me just the other day. He was on Maui and wondering if I still lived there and wanted to go have dinner. He invited me to San Francisco too. Must be having empty nest syndrome. But I don't care. A free place to stay in SF? Hell yeah! Right now I'd dig out and spend some real time there even if I had some interesting work. I miss it. At some point I should be jetting between Maui, SF and Portland. Only to settle down in Ashland in a few years. I think I'll just do that. Sure. Why not?

what does it mean to you?

Peta — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 06:02:56 GMT

Portland is beginning to remind me a bit of San Francisco of late. Not because of the overwhelming number of mo's living here but the change in how the surroundings are starting to appear more like art installations. While away living in Hawaii my annual visits to Portland were much enjoyed only I was put off by what appeared to me a growing trend towards very somber and muddled coloring affecting what was formally a quite "cheerful" palette. Brilliant greens, yellows, purples and blues had given way to oppressively sedate browns, grey, black and highlights of red. All I could think of was "Yuck, what have they done to this once bright city? Who needs all these dreary colors when the goddamn sun is blocked by cloud cover 9 months out of the year?". Portland was starting to take on a very Communist Soviet Union circa 1980s look to it speaking through it's architecture emotions wrought with conformity, fear and heaviness. Much like the reality of our nation being at "war" with military influence fashion to match. The other day however I noticed this power box outside a coffee house and perhaps it is a sign of things to come. Where everyday things meet with pedestrian anarchy to form something more aesthetically pleasing. It is with great pleasure that I am getting out and about to even notice such things. Sure I've been dashing all over for months now from job to job and engagement to engagement. Now however I have had the luxury of exploration and getting a bit lost seeing where the day might take me. It is nothing new. I've been in these states of wandering bliss before. Only now they are like tiny vacations rather than months without knowing end protracted periods of aimlessness. Had enough of those in the past few years thank you. It's good to get lost and even better to go back to work the next day. Not only has my mind been begging for the holiday but my body has as well. The persistent neck pain, ear ache and digestive upset has been nagging me. Supplements, body work, prayer, yoga etc squeezed into ridiculous schedule has made the linger time these minor ailments more than I am comfortable with experiencing. So the other day on a break from New Avenues I decided to lay in the grassy park nearby and just check in with my body. Let it talk to me about what was going on. And man did it have a story to tell. The neck pain it turns out is connected to a time a little over a year ago when I went out on Pride weekend with my then "boyfriend" Dean. He had wanted to go out dancing and though it was unusual, partly because it was a week night and the club was across on the other side of the island, I went along. Man.. what was I thinking? Ouch. All night long on the dance floor, which is where you'll find me if I have to be at a club, I felt something was up with Dean. He kept disappearing to the back of the club. I thought he might have something going on with another guy. While dancing something snapped in my back. A pain like someone stabbing a knife into the back of my heart center. It would take me sometime to recover with rest, chiropractic, yoga, supplements etc. And I was right, Dean had started up something with another guy who's name I remembered while lying in the grass. Shane. Interesting I thought because the back pain flared up again around the same time that Eric had asked me to go to Pride with him. I hadn't until that time on the grass made the connection. But what about the ear ache? I hadn't had an ear ache since 2001 or early 2002 back when I was working at OCTA. I remember it distinctly because I did ear candling and it made it better. Then I recalled that I ran into Ann, this total whack job OCTA co-worker from that time period, who had gone off her psych meds and took pleasure in just fucking with people. She started some serious shit between me and my bosses at that time. Mostly because I was showing her up at work as being the annoying shrew that she was, divisive and undermining plus she had essentially quit her full time position and gone to contract work with OCTA so that they could hire me and this retard named Rolland. (Rolland if you are out there, the thought of you still turns my stomach) So to say that I have some ENERGY tied up with running into Ann again, which I did on the bus with Eric on the way to Pride, is my understatement of the year. I was nonchalant about seeing her again, said "hi" and all that, knowing that in the end I was better off for having worked there because it helped me get my job at Outside In (and I loved that job!). Still, my body told me that's what was up. Ok. So I cleared some of that juju using the self applied kinesiology techniques while just laying there in the grass and then went back to work. Later that night I was at New Season's grocery store and I run into a man named Shane. Cute guy, friend of Laura Leigh's, we all went out when she and Nickolas came to Portland for my birthday. We chatted for a bit. He's nice, a bit nervous but pleasant enough. Sure he's straight so it wasn't flirting or any such thing. I said goodbye and didn't give the encounter another thought until the next morning. Shane???? How many Shane's do I know or have ever known? Not many. Huh, interesting. Same name as the guy that Dean took up with during Pride of 2007. So I had the revelation and didn't think about it too much. Today I decided to wander into Buffalo Exchange and there's Shane again. I see him out of the corner of my eye but decide to just stay in my own little world. I had made enough small talk with him the night before. He made his way over to me though and we talked a bit. I grabbed some jeans and headed towards the dressing room. I really did not feel like socializing. When I came out he was gone but guess who was there? Eric. Again, very interesting. By now I am really out of it. Don't want to interact at all and yet it was great to see Eric. He looked happy and shiny, hugged me and I Ioved that, because he is so loving. If we had been alone it would have been great. I would have fallen into his arms. But to be honest I really could not make a quality connection with him there in the noisy Sunday confines of the Hawthorne Buffalo Exchange. I didn't analyze it too much because he was playing tour guide for his out of town friends, a job he'd just spend doing for the week prior for his family. He was very occupied. Our conversation lagged, struggled, spurted and then just ended. Later I texted him, told him how I was glad to have seen him and wanted to see him once his out of town guests were gone. He texted back that he wasn't so sure about that. I biked around today wanting to get free from all the hordes of people around town. I didn't mind them so much if I could have my own space distant from theirs and I didn't have to talk to anyone or listen to lots of noise. Every outdoor place was crowded though so it was not an easy task. I found a spot in the grass over at Laurelhurst park and just laid there for a time with a Shakespear play, Two Gentlemen from Verona, being performed off in the distance. It seemed ideal for a time. All along the questions of what I am currently encountering kept at me. For instance, supposedly I moved back to Portland for, among other reasons, community and romance. Lately I've been struggling to have those in my life and still give lots of attention to my career. Maybe it's a phase? A much needed break after months of non-stop activity? Perhaps. I wonder though if I am not headed towards a complete overhaul of my ideas and ideals around relationship most particularly romance and community. Both are inextricably linked to my family and personal history. When I keep asking those questions what I get back is, "What do you want?" But to that I say, "I got everything I want. Maybe what I need is a greater comfort with the transitory nature of the universe and a full forfeiture of all those fairy tales I believed in as a child?" It is my hope that the reality of living to the fullest of every moment will provide me with all the love and community that I need. What I struggle with is how to live that truth within this world where I fear it is not necessarily valued or understood. No longer do I look upon those old gay men with their single lives, living alone and fear them. Fear that I may be one of them some day. I can now see where a life such as that can be very fulfilling. It was this fear that drove me off the island of Maui. Twice! But it could indeed be my destiny should I choose it. Solitude these days is the greatest pleasure and necessity for it gives me the strength to be more "there" for the people I love and those I serve in my work. Even if right now my relationships are getting the rawer part of the deal. But does everything have to one "one or the other"? If I can have anything I want ie manifest co-created reality with the universe, then I chose option C and D. All of the above AND None of the above. Relationship based on deep emotional and physical intimacy AND committed to freedom. The same goes for romance AND community. I know this is possible without offending my needs for structure, dependability, consistency and longevity. While simultaneous infused with beauty, grace, charm and playful exploration. It could be my inner most child set free on a stage directed and managed by my most outer adult. Just like the dream I had last night where the very clear message was, "Live wherever you want and do whatever you want". And so it is.

sweet lilly

Peta — Sun, 06 Jul 2008 23:40:00 GMT

It was at one of Timo's parties that I first met Lilly-Marie Blecher. Timo was our yoga instructor and at times he would throw a little dinner party and invite his students. Usually the event was something like his girlfriend soon to be wife then soon to be ex-wife Aeisha was having a birthday or some such. She was something of a Kundalini Diva, pretty blonde and we would all sit around as she opened presents providing the appropriate oohs and awes. The affairs were usually stocked well with food because Timo really knew his way around a kitchen from his days as a chef in SF. The guests however were a lot less exciting. I am not sure why but for some reason out of our tight sweaty yoga togs and relocated from the studio to a home did not make for instant quality socialization. I always found myself straining to relate to people at these functions but I went anyways because it was the only time I ever yucked it up with that community. At the last such affair that I attended this woman turned to me and began making conversation. It was the kind of conversation that I was interested in having and she turned out to be the loveliest of people. Her name was Lilly. I recognized her from class. She had an easy manner, simple and kindly but with a cocky comic flare. Turns out she was from New York originally which for me made sense in how well she handled her self socially. Poised, clever and with the ability to entertain through story telling. I found myself fascinated with her quite quickly. Fast forward some months when I was working at Outside In and I turned around one day to find Lilly working there. She was a student at the National College for Naturopathic Medicine (NCNM) and this was her work study job. My joy in seeing her there might have caught her by surprise. She hadn't know the impression she'd made on me during our brief time at Timo's party. And for some reason I hadn't seen much of her since that time. Probably because we took class on different days. I was not going to let her slip away again. I made considerable effort to befriend her. In truth I was very smitten by her charm, looks and ability to relate. And we shared a lot of laughter and real moments together both at work and in our free time. At one point she even came up the Mountain to partake in a sweatlodge which turned out to be a huge gathering of historical significance to Redwind. The meeting of the Mother Heart Drum Circle. Lilly often entertained me with stories of her childhood growing up in New York City. An existence I found intriguing partly because of my own time there and ponderings on what a childhood in that city might be like. Tales of how Sean Lennon talked her through her first acid trip or how she used to be a punk rock inspired jewish intellectual activist. When Ieft for Hawaii I was particularly sad to say goodbye to Lilly. She was quite literally one of my favorite people. At the time of my leaving she was buying a house in what seemed like way-the-hell-out-Southeast beyond 100th Ave so therefore ie h-e-l-l. I had been by to take a look at it and "fixer-upper" does not describe the amount of work that needed to be done. She seemed very self assured however about her investment. Over the next 4 years my attempts to keep in touch met with failure. The phone number was disconnected and email never quite seemed to work. Every year on my annual visit to Portland however I would try again. She had gotten away again. Over time I came to accept it as fact. Fast forward to December 2007. I was back in Portland to live and had made an appointment for myself and Rochana to receive acupuncture at Outside In. I was struggling at that time with what my return to Portland meant and was experiencing huge anxiety about how I was going to support myself. Rochana was needing a lot of my attention and I was nearing exhaustion. Upon arriving at our appointment I was greeted by a lilthe figure all dressed in professional black attire with the sweetest smile on her face. It was Lillly and I burst into tears at the sight of her there standing in her glorious newfound power as healer. She was absolutely striking in her transformation. "Where have you been?" I cried. Again surprised as my outburst and excitement Lilly said, "I have been here the whole time. I've never left. Working everyday for the last four years. I will finally graduate in a few months." Lilly took me aside and treated me. She listened to my stories of how Guy and I had divorced. What had led me back to Portland. The fears that I had around taking care of myself. "I seem to remember you had these experiences before in New York" she said, then holding my hand spoke gently to me, "you are safe here, I truly sense that." Her words that day on the exam table echoed with me for the months to come like a hypnotic suggestion. This beautiful, radiant being had touched me and healed me in ways she could not even know. I left that day renewed and we began our friendship once again. Her house had been transformed as well to a beautiful cozy home. It was a mirror the gorgeous woman she had become and I was more in love with her than ever. She invited me over for dinner and I stayed up most the night as she entertained me with stories of her family, her adventures in medical school and the boyfriends who had come, gone and remained since I'd seen her last. Recently Lilly extended herself to me in making me part of her family. With all her childhood friends and family in town for her graduation she included me in all the get togethers. All the stories now had physical beings for me to relate to and her past was now a part of my present. Lilly stood up on graduation day and as class valedictorian read a speech on behalf of all the graduates. I cried and cheered loudly for my friend Lilly that day. The world is so much better for her being in it. Soon Lilly will be saying goodbye and beginning a residency in New York state. There is no telling how long she will be gone and if she will ever again live in Portland. Again this magical, wonderful woman will be absent from my life. Though I feel nothing but joy at her success I do feel great sadness in the physical distance that will be between us. Good luck Lilly! I love you.

"I could be anyone ..."

Peta — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 07:12:16 GMT

"I could be anyone!" And by that I believe he meant that I was not behaving towards him as if he were "the one". You know "the one" don't you? The same "one" for which we are all perfectly designed and with whom we will live out our "happily ever after"? Happens all the time, right? I let a greater truth of what he said gnaw on me for days as I formed this blog entry in my mind, writing it again and again. Tricky because he will read these words. And words can be interpreted sure just like talking only the written word, unless removed, can be reread. Even the reader can find greater truth within words than the author maybe thought to put there. They just show up. Gnawing on what he said. Judging myself. Defending myself. Accusing too. All within the court room of my own being and all before the all knowing universe that does nothing but give us literally whatever we ask for... only we don't recognize it when we see it. Or that we are creating it. I can make it rain by leaving my house without an umbrella. I can plan/dream, execute, hope and still surrender to the broader design of life and have it all work out ok. Then lose all trust that it ever will again within a matter of minutes only to try try again. And succeed through brilliant failure. Perhaps I am speaking too soon? There's still plenty of time to create that disaster for which I keep preparing myself. Instead it was a lightning and thunder storm right over where I live. Walking up the long hill towards the house the clouds gave away their warm, wet moisture I thought maybe the rain had missed the feel of my skin. And purposely tricked me into leaving without my protection for it soggy goodness. There wasn't much to shake off. It wasn't the torrential down pours of the tropics to which I had grown accustomed to over the years. Just a tad annoying, that's all. I gave myself ice cream and took myself home to rest 3 months of near non-stop work and I can catch my breath for a day or so. Still fearing that if I stand still I might fall asleep. Keep moving. Amongst the themes I am witnessing is a return to time back right before college and just at the start. For instance I was on a bus the other day and there was a man who swear to Goddess had me doing double takes because of his likeness to my then boyfriend Stefano. A man who's love was so enduring and with whom I engaged in a great struggle. Or at least my arrogant pride did anyways. Men. Most I find lie to themselves and then to others. Some very consciously and others not so much. They all do it though and I can tell when they do. I'm sure they do it to avoid conflict. Avoid pain. There's enough of that already. Enough disappointment. Enough of not getting what you want or worse...getting it. As the saying goes. So perhaps the greater truth of what my lovely man says to me when he says he could be anyone in reference to how I treat him means that I could love too many in the same way. That it's not special. Why is language to inadequate to describe what I am trying to say? Or honestly, why do I avoid the hard cold truth of the matter and look for ways in which to write it in the hopes I will not upset? Openly lying to myself ...just like all men do. Monogamy, polyamorous, cheating, temple whore, sacred intimate and the list goes on. Just words themselves in a vague attempt to understand the complexity of relationship, it's expression and significance. Lately I've come to loathe the word boyfriend, but only when it's applied to me. It's fine behind my back but by all means do not say it to my face. "Can we possibly find a busier intersection (other than Hawthorne & 37th) to have our make out session?" Or can I stop for just a minute and recognize the truth of what I am without shame? Without fear of being judged and with some way of speaking to it in a way that makes sense? To myself at least? Others be damned. They'll come along on their own time. Is it only just the fuller nature of how an empath expresses themselves sexually? Because that's how feels... Simple. Like that.

dwarf planet my ass

Peta — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 05:45:54 GMT

"Name five couples who's marriage you admire" I stammered for a second. I thought of the few couples with whom I was friends. I dearly love these people. I smile broadly at the thought of them. Then when I thought of their relationships. Their marriages. My feelings turned to confusion and disbelief approaching disgust. I quickly gave up. I couldn't name one couple. Let alone five. Lewis questioned me further, rhetorically saying, "if I showed you a pool and said that 95% of the people who swam in it had drowned, would you swim in it?" "For marriage to exist" he said, "one or both of the couple must die" In O magazine I read recently about how divorce no longer was traumatic but simply an option to be exercised. Relieved of it's stigma, it could now be viewed much like a decision to do the master cleanse. By contrast an article in the Atlantic was firmly advocating "settling for Mr Good Enough". The female writer argued that too many women had passed up opportunities for having decent mates in part because they were fixated on finding loving marriages rather a good mate who would impregnate them and be a good father. Marriage has never looked more complicated to me than in these past couple of weeks. With Pluto now retrograde in Sagittarius for the next couple of months it's an opportunity for me to revisit some of the extenuating changes that have occurred in my life, most especially those within the last 16 years. The time period Pluto spent careening through Sagittarius and bring with it death, destruction, reconstruction, renovation and resurrection again and again and again. I like change as much as the next Sag but even I was getting to the point of frustration and exhaustion with the ever starting at zero point exercise. Not that I'm intending to lay down heavy roots and accumulating the typical American store house of personal belongings. I just wonder sometimes what I could accomplish if I say, head a job for longer than a year or didn't move every six months. My averages for the last many years. I've come through that time with some incredible skills so I'm not complaining. Just pondering the "what ifs?" and "why nots?" of my choices. "Trust is the foundation" Lewis went on, " and community is of utmost importance". He told me of his adventures living in Alaska. His love of Gates BBQ. Fishing. Travel. Dating. His time in the south. In Chicago. I felt kindred to this man and I looked on him with eyes that wanted to absorb everything he had to say and listened with ears that wanted to drink his words. Being in his presence and partaking of his wisdom was a spiritual experience. My eyes watered with tears because my heart was feeling the great truth of what he spoke. "When I meet a woman" he continued, "I ask her what it truly is that she wants". "It's in the adventure, the play and creativity that we can truly experience each other." He advised against anyone using words that begin with the letter "W". Such as, "Where were you last night?" or "Who were you with?" "These people" he said, "inevitably are abusers." "I tell my girlfriends not to ask me questions that they don't want to hear the honest answer to because I will tell them." He spoke of relationships being most powerful and having the greatest chance of "success" as being within the context or container of community. I was filled for many days by his assertions and his certainty. I replayed all that I could remember he'd said in my mind and lost myself in the examination of how I'd approached love in this life time. Something gnaws on me at times. It's the conflict of who I am vs who I believe I want to be. I look at the choices for expressing myself as a loving being and how best to do that and there are days where I cannot make it work for my efforts. "My second wife said that marriage is work but I don't believe that. I've had some friendships that have lasted over 50 years and we get along easily without working" "I believe, as do other members in my community, in harmony." "We strive for that". My love life. My friendships. My career. And the many communities of which I am a part. I am drawing the parallels of meaning between them all. I see how they are different and yet what is most harmonious? Can that model then work for all these aspects of my life? For example, can the very structured yet self designated work schedule I have for my career also be a template for my love life? Can the way in which my close friends then come and go but retain their sense of intimacy also be a model for how I am in community? And finally is it possible, just maybe, that ceremony is the greatest reflection for all of these? I will soon see.

nomenclature

Fariha — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 05:08:31 GMT

brutha kev

Peta — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 06:27:36 GMT

Turned a corner Monday on a quick errand downtown and standing before was a man I have not seen since 1994. We were like brothers back then. He taught me that men could be loving and affectionate with one another and that it didn't have to be about sex. We planned a move together to Chicago but things didn't go as we'd planned. We both ended up there in our own time. This photo taken back then when I was in the beginning of my film school studies. "I am totally surprised to see you and you .. seem completely under-whelmed" he'd observed as I casually held my end of the conversation "It's not that" I corrected, "rather it's just with the way my life's been going it makes perfect sense that I see you" I wasn't suppose to be on the street corner. The timing of my being there was completely chance. I didn't have to be walking up that street because I take a different route every time. So odds were against us meeting on that day. I read that once that you should not be too routine about how you travel. It makes it harder for stalkers to track your whereabouts and then find and subsequently kill you. So I change my routes often and rarely take the same one too many times. I do not leave at the same times. I do not frequent the same places too much. I do my best to maintain utter methodical randomness. I change residences, jobs, friends, appearances and identities as often as other people change their underpants. So that nothing sticks. Holds me down. Or is in my way. Kevin wouldn't have seen me most likely but I pay very close attention to everything around me. It's a rare day when somebody's got the drop on me. I practice constantly and only when in certain company do I drop my guard. Ever ready for the next challenge. Kevin hadn't changed at all. A big heavier maybe. More grey hair for sure. Still the handsome devil he always was and with his warm, friendly and kindly manner. Big brown eyes poking out underneath two bushy brows on a face that to this day still makes me think of Morrissey. I had to wonder how I appeared to him. I was dressed that day much like I would have been back in the day. My hair not much different save for a small beard. Wrinkled but not grey. More fit than I'd been when he knew me. He had a big yoga mat curled up under his arm. He'd been study yoga with my old teacher Timo. We swapped stories. He continued in his surprise while I just told myself and him that it all made perfect sense to me. That this type of thing happens to me all the time. Because it does. In some form or another. We went for lunch and I noticed that he'd bought a book called something such as "Brooklyn Tales of Folly". Again, perfect. Brooklyn had been the last city he'd heard that I was living in and there were the stories of my drug use and mental illness. Good stories. True. In a way. He wanted to know what happened to me so I told him. I covered the basics. Jail, probation in Texas, moving out West, being adopted by the Lakota, changing my name, getting married then divorced, living in Hawaii and so on. He'd moved around quite a bit too. Lived in England. Been married and was now divorced. Had a new girlfriend or partner or someone special that he wasn't sure what to call. Like me. I said goodbye to him right on Burnside. He jumped into the car driven by the woman of significance in life who has no title other than her name. That being Laurel. When he sped off I remembered everything about him in one instant. All the things I loved about him. All the things I found frustrating. How he always always had a girlfriend. He was never alone and didn't like being alone from what I remember. Not at all.

like a bridge over gargled waters....

Peta — Thu, 29 May 2008 01:20:40 GMT

Eric told me over the phone that the ham sandwich I was eating made my butt look tight. That's just like him to say something like that. When anyone around him is in a state of confusion or distress he'll often say, "You look great!" It's as disarming as it is charming. And Eric Pavey is all about charm. Eric, this man who has so so so quickly won my heart. Yesterday he left me a voicemail that asked what was I thinking about, what was I doing and yes, ... wearing. I appreciate his ability to bring an enormous amount of levity into my worry filled world. Defeats are more easily digestible when I've someone in my corner who does nothing but love and believe in me. I'd like to be that person for Eric. Only he doesn't seem to worry much. Not as much as me. For the past week my career has consumed much of my thoughts when I haven't been pleasantly distracted by Eric and having a good time. At St Anthony's the other day while assisting a 90 year old woman on the toilet she looked me hard in the eye and asked me: "Do you enjoy doing this?" meaning helping her take a crap. I was quiet for a bit then answered, "That's a tricky question because if I say 'no' it'll seem like I don't care and if I say 'yes' then I'm some kind of wierdo". She got what I was going on about and agreed with me BUT still pressed on with her line of questioning. "Doesn't it bother you? All this?" she said pointing to her soiled diaper now falled to her knees. "Well, I like helping people and this is just part of it" I replied. "What do you like to do?" she went on... "I work in broadcasting." Our conversation continued while I slipped on her new diaper, stood her up, wiped her and then adjusted her pants while leading her hands to her walker. "Go and do it honey" she said, "you don't need to stay here". And I cried.

Brilliant Failure

Peta — Fri, 23 May 2008 03:43:50 GMT

After 4 months of the most extensive interview process I've EVER EVER EVER endured I have failed. I got the call today. It is over. I was relieved. Numb. Not surprised and yet still extremely disappointed. I cried a bit. I made dinner. I cleaned a toilet and I ate chocolate ice cream. Hannah has run to Movie Madness in order to rent a black comedy. Eric offered to leave work and come to my side (ain't he something?) Rivka. Bless her heart. Was sweet about it. I asked her what I could have done differently. She said I was professional and that I had a great resume only that there were was a great candidate pool and the decision was difficult. Later she email me my online profile. It was part of the process between the 1st and 2nd round. I took the test not having any idea what would be on it but mistakenly assumed it would just be psychological. But NO, there was math and all sorts of crazy shit. As soon as I began the test I realized that it was timed. And I had a huge panic because I was so sleep deprived that I had to slam my left brain into high gear in order to deliver. I admit that I tried to throw the test. In that I did my best to down play my desire to be an independent contractor AND my innate mistrust for authority ...other than myself of course. Most of these tests are designed to catch such shameless manipulations. There are usually 3 of the same questions asked in a different form. I attempted to answer each one differently in order to throw the curve towards presenting the semblance of someone who might actually be a team player and trust authority. The results were mixed. I didn't quite throw it enough. To be honest...well, I am too honest. I didn't feel comfortable being completely deceptive. Here are some interesting parts however that seem to reveal that I would have been bored had I been hired. Notice that the profile assumes my gender to be female. Hil~arious! THINKING On the Learning Index scale Ms. Mni is above the designated job profile for this position. This suggests that her assimilation of new information is greater than the position typically requires and that she may experience boredom from the requirements of the job. Discussions with her should explore the possibility the position may not be sufficiently challenging to maintain her interest and/or level of performance. On the Verbal Reasoning scale Ms. Mni is above the designated Profile for this Job Match Pattern. This suggests that her ability to process verbal information is greater than the position typically requires and that she may experience frustration over the lack of challenge. Discussions with her should explore the possibility the position may not maintain her interest and/or level of performance. On the Numerical Ability scale Ms. Mni is above the designated Profile for this Job Match Pattern. This suggests that her computation of data is more proficient than the position typically requires and that she may not be sufficiently challenged to maintain her interest and/or level of motivation. On the Numerical Reasoning scale Ms. Mni is above the job profile for this position. This suggests that her ability to analyze data as part of the decision making process is greater than the position typically requires and that she may not be sufficiently challenged to maintain her interest and/or level of performance. BEHAVIORAL TRAITS On the Manageability scale Ms. Mni is below the designated Profile for this Job Match Pattern. This suggests that her willingness to follow standard procedures is less than the position typically requires and that she could have a problem with the capability to perform in this area. Discussions with her should determine her potential for frustration within the constraints of this position. OCCUPATIONAL INTERESTS Responsibilities that involve working with a great deal of data, researching theories and other technical work are preferred most by those who match the Interest Pattern for this position. However, the activities associated with the Technical theme are not among Ms. Mni's primary three interest themes and may not motivate her as much. SUMMARY Ms. Mni scored highest in the Creative, Enterprising and People Service themes on the inventory. She is attracted to positions in which she can use her creative side in a business environment that allows for a high degree of contact with people. She appears to be drawn toward opportunities to solve problems in an innovative way. The chance to serve the needs of customers and the public in general also relates to this interest pattern. With Creative as her primary area of interest, Ms. Mni is likely to seek out activities that involve innovative thinking, expression and imagery. This area of interest is likely to be the driving force behind all of her performance. Secondly, she is motivated by the interaction with others that comes with service to an interpersonal cause as demonstrated by her interest in People Service activities. Helping others or providing them with services may help to energize her in what she does at work. Finally, her interest in Enterprising activities rounds out her profile. While not as vital to maintaining her motivation as her higher interests, such dealings can have a positive effect on her long-term job satisfaction. ********* There was much more blardee-blar but whatevers. Time to rethink my strategy. After I cry, scream and shout that is and wrestle with why I am so terrified of going it on my own. It looks like Kay Sol (TACS ED) was right. I should work for myself. Loser.

in my own words

Peta — Mon, 19 May 2008 04:04:05 GMT

This email arrived the other day: "Hello, I posted an ad on Craigslist last summer and you sent the response listed below. Where are you in your life? Would you be interested in telling me more about yourself?-- Lee" To be honest I vaguely remember the exchange with Lee. Also I haven't much idea what I was responding to although I believe it had something to do with Lee's ruminations as to whether gay men could really love one another. Upon reading what I wrote to this man I have to humbly say...I rather liked it. Goes as follows: Mystery. A great mystery. And all that we believe we can create is possible. Love like that does exist. Maybe not in the forever way that movies try to spin. But in real ways that are around us everyday. For myself that love meant letting someone go that I cared for dearly because I knew he was unhappy. He wouldn't have ever left me on his own accord. His sense of honor and duty far outweighing his sense of obligation to himself and his own dreams. One dream in particular to live in the Southwest. Somewhere's I have no desire to be. Obsession with youth? Sure ...and why not? Age has nothing to offer the gay man. Who cares about his wisdom? His grace or his intelligence? His experience amounts to nothing. He is only worth the length of his cock. The tightness of his ass. And the recesses of his mouth. His ability to be pleasing and to please. Seriously. NOT. Thanks for putting it out there. Your answer may not come on craigslist. But I believe it will come to you. And that happiness is already yours just based on the choices you are making. ......the end........ TODAY was gloriously sunny and I spent the better part of it splayed out on the grass in Laurelhurst Park smooching and groping Eric (what he calls "grubbin") who has now taken to referring to me as his "Make-Out Guy". My friends Cessa, Joy and Cody stopped by even. The photo above was taken. Pretty blissy, huh? At one moment in the day I remembered it was Guy's 50th birthday and recalled the email that Lee had sent me. My own words. I also remembered how important Laurelhurst Park was to me when I first moved to Portland 10 years ago in the summer of '98. That and how I spent my quiet hours on Mt Tabor. Places where I find myself today. Making fresh the experiences of my past. Feeling renewed. Cleansed. Forgiven. Hopeful. As if I can finally relax and move on. And yeah, Lee... it only took 2 years. REALLY REALLY hard to say goodbye to Eric this afternoon. He stood with me at the bus stop. Entertaining me with his stories. Filling me with loving looks through his spectacular and mystical eyes. Holding me close to him. His super sexy voice caressing me. Somehow I managed to get on that bus and make my way home. My skin so slightly singed by the sun. My lips just barely parched from kissing. My belly so full from eating the delicious picnic Eric put together. So tired and happy now. Just what I needed. Laters....