It is snowing over 4k ft

And that is happiness making.

Date / Time (Local Time - PST) September 28th: Sky Snow Flurries Temperature 31º Wind N 3-31 mph ahhhhhhhhhhhh hahahahahaha its snowing at Timberline!!!

Punctuation is important?

Pass me a cigarette, I think there's one in my raincoat

I wonder at myself sometimes and my triggers. Not just the obvious ones, for food, sex, sleep, anger. Lately the triggers that interest me most are the prompts for baseless sentiment. Why is it I should be so moved by the line "Michigan seems like a dream to me now..." I've never even been to Michigan. My most recent romantic entanglement notwithstanding, I don't think I've ever been tempted to go to Michigan.

And yet, every time I hear that song. Every time Paul sings that line, the tears rise and I weep until "we've all gone, to look for America"

It is a line referenced in one of the most important pieces of literature in my life. I suppose that adds a certain degree of resonance. In The Waste Lands, as the three Gunslingers from New York muse on their bizarre new circumstances, Eddie mutters the line. And it struck me then. But I suspect I was already under the sway of whatever evocative power the phrase has over me when I read it. Because I remember feeling like a bell was tolling when I let the words sink inside me.

And maybe there is no answer. Maybe my tendency for baseless sentiment is an end unto itself, but I am curious about it nevertheless. And of course I know I'm not alone.

I wonder what makes other people experience this same inexplicable sentimentality....

I am a fan of the ellipsis

This may be, in part, why I loved Garden State so damn much. Probably not, I mean, Zach Braff is totally my imaginary boyfriend, and like, how could I not love his work? But I do love it in the end when he says to Samantha...

"This isn't a conversation about this being over. I'm not like, putting a period at the end of this. I'm putting like... an ellipsis on it."

He repents of this quite soon, but I still liked the notion of it. I hate the idea of anything really being irrevocable. I want there to be a chance for anything, to have a little more to say.

And I notice when I look at my posts, just how many of them have ellipsis' (ellipses? ellipsis's?) in them. And how this in effect works out as the verbal equivalent of trailing off, which ironically, i almost never ever do. I like to express complete thoughts. Sometimes, they're a little too complete. Here, let me give you 8 1/2 minutes of exposition you do not need. That was fun wasn't it!?

But I think when I use them in writing perhaps its more of a come hither than a trailing off. I want to entice you with the slightest hint of things to come. And it seems so much more poetic that way. I mean no wonder I love the ellipsis; all the infinite unsaidness of life can be summed up with three little dots...

Why don't you do right....

Ok,

so its not usually fun to be wrong, but sometimes it is particularly annoying/embarassing.

I've been toying with the idea of being Jessica Rabbit for Halloween for about 4 years, but thought the lack of a willing Roger might make the effort a little hard to understand. Oh look! Autumn's got her tits out again! How novel! Right?

Well, I decided this year, since I'm turning 30 and oh so very alone in the world, Roger or no, I'm doing it. So I'm on the prowl for the right off-the-shoulder-slit-up-to-there dress. Which in MY memory was PURPLE. So, I start looking casually. Not finding anything just yet, but I have time so I'm not super worried about it. I mention this plan to various people, all of whom think it is hilarious or hot (depending largely on their gender) and encourage me to go full steam ahead. Red wig or dye job? Haven't totally made up my mind... long opera gloves are a necessity, slutty tall red shoes, that's what the red light clothing exchange is for.

One person however, when I say this is my plan, is encouraging but says "Yeah find yourself the right red dress and I'm sure you'll pull it off Roger or no..."

To which I reply "No no no you silly git, her dress was purple not red. And set off to Wiki a corroborating photo to prove it. Ahem.

I guess I'm glad this happened since I would have been a little less obviously Jessica in the wrong colored dress. My plan to open every conversation with "I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way" might seal the deal...

Happiness

Despite my tendency to believe this, happiness is not found in hats. Or shoes. Or pants. Well, I mean a certain kind of happiness can be found in pants, but that's not what I'm getting at.

My friend Clare has made the suggestion that since human memory is unreliable we may not be the best judge of our own level of overall happiness, and that maybe all we need is some objective evidence that things aren't so bad so we can all cheer the fuck up a little. She talks about this much more eloquently on her blog:

http://happiology.blogspot.com/2007/09/introduction-to-allisons-happiness.html

I've decided this is an amusing and potentially worthwhile attitude to have about this whole happiness thing. And so I'm going to join her in both recording my own experience and reflecting upon what trends I notice. Plus I think her "Happiness Scale" is hilarious...


Happiness Scale
1. "My god. I would like to die"
2. "Life Sucks"
3. "Not good"
4. "I've been better."
5. "Can't complain"
6. "Good."
7. "Boy, I feel great!"
8. Squealing in glee


Here's to more 8's than 1's!

Objects of Desire

So I'm out on Saturday walking around downtown Portland in the lovely crisp fall afternoon when I strolled past the JCrew window display. It was a terrible mistake.

It is well known that if I had to subsist with only 3 brands ever again it would be Banana Republic, Ann Taylor, and JCrew. I love their cheeky preppyness. I love their devotion to the tall collared rugby. And I love their hats. I think I have like 23 JCrew hats. And now, I want one more.

Thing is, this hat is currently $50, give or take. But if I wait 3 weeks or so, this hat will be $25. If it can still be found. And this is my main problem with JCrew. When they do discount something it offends me to have paid full price so recently. On the other hand, if I wait in hopes of said discount, it may well sell out before I get to it. It is a bitter dilemma and I am not happy to be having it. I've had a fair amount of success waiting and trying again. I have a skirt that started out $60 that I only paid $20 for. I suppose I ought to wait and see. After all, if we are destined to be together, I suppose we'll find a way somehow...

As if Friday's weren't kooky enough...

I thought suggesting Bowl-aoke (my favorite hybrid of bowling and karaoke) was weird enough to seem novel and intriguing to my jaded jaded friends. But I was trumped. True, the person who did the trumping works at Dark Horse Comics and is therefore infinitely cooler than I am, but still.

Because how could we not abandon the bowl-aoke plans to go check out underground glow-in-the-dark pirate themed mini-golf. I had to bow to the wisdom of such a plan. And so would you.

My only complaint was the lack of a bar in the facility. I mean, trying to accommodate families
might make this seem wise, but my argument is actually that most parents would be MORE likely to take their kids down to the subterranean free for all if they had access to a beer or two. I know I would.

Saturday was slightly less luminous. In fact I drove up to Larch Mountain right about the time the equinox was occurring and climbed up to the viewpoint pretty much in the pitch dark. Once I got up there, the entire valley below was obscured by a thick blanket of fog. Nothing like climbing a mountain to get a clearer view and only having a grey bank of clouds to look at instead. To be fair it was good in the sense of being a little spooky. Peeking over the side and seeing nothing but fog does give one the sense of being perched on the edge of an infinite abyss. Which is always a good thing.

Tomorrow...

Is the last full day of summer. Hence, Sunday will be the first day of fall. Celebrate the autumnal equinox with fire and cider and foolishness, because the light is beginning to fade.

Around this time I try to think about the closing of the season. This is usually a pleasant moment for me to reflect on the year and imagine what's coming up (usually most of the imagining is wondering when there's going to be enough snow on the ground to ski upon)

It helps that fall is usually the best time of year for me, more wonderful, magical, and miraculous things seem to happen to me at this time of year. A brief survey has informed me that I am not alone in this. And also that February is the worst month of the year with July hard on its heels.


All that being said, I'm feeling particularly in need of some magic right about now. And I want to drive down to the ocean and light a fire and scream at the horizon. Not because it will make the light last any longer, but because I think I need to embrace the oncoming dark, instead of running away from it.

Sometimes, We get the Wrong Idea

It's not even that hard. Especially when you're little and you've been deprived somehow of an accurate example of what the right idea is. Plus, if you're hanging around with other folks who also have that same wrong idea, well... you can imagine the sort of confusion this can cause...

I think its due in part to our need for belonging. If we can't be sure where we ought to be, there's some comfort to be had in sticking with the familiar. Even if the results are less than ideal, at least its a commonplace imperfection rather than one we have to accustom ourselves to. The new and unusual can be exciting, but more often than not just presents a whole new world of stress to be coped with, and so sometimes in the most fundamental form of self-defense, we seek out that which seems recognizable.

P.S. Thank you Lyza Danger

My friend Lyza has a remarkably interesting and visually appealing blog on this very blogspot. It is because of her I have one too. Myspace being somewhat cumbersome, and at present, inaccessible, I resorted to this place. And I find I much prefer it.

But the bestest thing of all is the Librarything.com module I have over on the side (which I also stole from her) I found images of the covers of my favorite books, like the book of fairy tales from the year I was born that is so sumptuous and so out of print.

At any rate, she inspired most of this, so if you're enjoying it, you and I both have her to thank.

So, thanks!

Faith: Shaken, not Stirred

I've always been a believer. Just ask my sister.

When she told me that the tall metal structures looming in the field were Martian sentries posted to ensure the good behavior of the human slaves, I believed her.
When she told me that if I mounted the slide, threw a frisbee and leaped for it, if I manages to catch it in midair... I would fly, I believed that too, much to the chagrin on the ER nurse and my mother.
When she told me that the reason people had pubic hair was from all the friction caused by legs rubbing together, I did not pause to consider, instead I walked with my legs slightly apart for the next 2 years at which point it occurred to me that if this were true, people would have pubes down to their knees.

But I am a person in whom the habit of belief is well established. I don't consider myself gullible per se, just open minded, and willing to give almost anything a chance to be true.

Yet lately I have found such belief to be difficult to maintain. Something that used to come with such ease, now seems not to come at all. I grew up in an atmosphere where the unexplainable was accepted as plain fact. Tarot cards, Astrology, Palmistry, and Reincarnation were the foregone conclusion. My mother spoke with such conviction about these things which had no observable phenomenon to support them, that I was fully willing to believe almost anything should it be related to me with enough conviction.

But I must admit my own experiences as an adult reinforced my tendency to accept certain of these things as valid and meaningful paths toward truth. So many times I had firsthand confirmation of the legitimacy of these mysteries, that it was simply another part of how I approached "Truth" in the world as an infinitely faceted thing.

And I know full well how strange and laughable this sounds to rational intelligent people. Many of my friends express surprise that a person they otherwise consider to be totally pragmatic and sane can rise above her rational experience of the world and simply choose to believe in something because it feels good to do so. And so I have done, in the face of great evidence to deny it, for many years...

Why now I seem unable to do so is a matter that occupies my mind a great deal as of late. I am perfectly aware that in times of great emotional stress people are likely to experience changes in behavior and mood. I know that it may be difficult to perceive the world in the same way when experiencing intense visceral duress, but I've been through all that before. I wonder why this time, and as a result of this trauma, have I lost my ability to believe that things happen for a purpose, and that my suffering is not in vain. Perhaps it is mainly due to the intensity of my distress that the need for answers also intensifies, and when none are forthcoming, my ability to be patient and trust that there are answers diminishes accordingly.

And there is all manner of encouragement available to me, mundane and mystical. This is my chance to see things from a fresh perspective, that what goes up must come down, that I am now like a babe in the wilderness ready to discover a whole new life...

Somehow I find it hard to believe.

30: Its the new 12!

I'm receiving lots of comforting words these days. Which, though appreciated, isn't necessary. You see, on Halloween I'll be turning 30. And everyone who hears this rushes to reassure me that 30 is the new 20. That I'm still young. That my 30's will be even better than my 20's (please god but they couldn't be worse), and that I still have plenty of time to do whatever it is in life I want to do.

To which I want to say: duh.

Ok, maybe not to the "30 is the new 20" thing, which I think is retarded rather than obvious, but generally speaking I feel like I already know this stuff. I feel better about myself, and my prospects than I ever have before. I'm not the least bit disappointed about leaving my 20's behind and am in all reality, looking forward to better times ahead.

So I've decided that for me, 30 is the new 12. I'm going to disregard all stereotypes about my age and go back to taking joy in simple things, speaking my mind without worrying too much about what people think, and most importantly, I'm going to resume jumping on the bed.

Falling on your ass

Virtually never reflects well on you. I mean, maybe if you've been toppled by a fellow roller girl there's some honor in it. But if you do so as a result of trying to demonstrate your bendiness and then fall off of a barstool, its hopeless. And not for nothing, my butt hurts.

Went to Oktoberfest with my friend Clare. Was remarkably enjoyable. Wish I hadn't bothered to buy the ridiculously overpriced festival Hefe. If only I'd stuck to doing shots in the local dive bars I would have been better served. Got hooted at by some bikers. Life is beautiful in Mt Angel.

Oh, and life is extra beautiful in a clean apartment.

Indian Summer = Hooray!

I don't know about y'all, but I have been feeling generally cheated by the lack of nice weather this summer. So here's to the first few weeks of lovliness we've seen all year! May it linger...

Camping is cool...

At least for the first 36 hours or so. As much as I love it, it will wear on me after a while. I don't really see myself out for weeks on end. Unless I was in a trailer.

We went up to Mt. Adams and stayed on Goose Lake. The campsite was GORGEOUS and very secluded. We had excellent shade and flat ground. My only real complaint is that the settling ash/dust from the volcano got in everything. Eyes, ears, nose, food, bedding, clothing, etc, etc. Oh, and that the thoughtless assholes who stayed there prior to us had the foul habit of leaving their waste paper strewn about the forest floor. It was as though some disgusting version of Hansel and Gretel were lost in the forest and needed some way to mark their trail back to camp. Bleah.

Aside from that, though, the trip was amazing. Weather was perfect, food was fantastic, company was great (I've finally met people who agree that if the fire is not as high as your head its not high enough!!!), scenery was breathtaking. Couldn't have been better really.

Went on what was undoubtedly the very best hike of my entire life. Up Crooked Creek and into the quintessential alpine meadow. I even yodeled for good measure. Nothing quite like hearing your voice echoing back at you from the mountaintop. We're planning to come back in mid-july next year and see the meadow in bloom. Might have to dig out my swiss miss costume and take amusing pictures...

The indomitable force of boredom

Its amazing to me just how determined I can be when I am truly profoundly bored. Don't get me wrong, I'm determined other times too, but its just particularly amusing to note my ability to get around obstacles to entertaining myself.

The new job. Well... its income. And, truthfully, it could be sooooo much worse. I count myself rather lucky. However, despite the fact I am situated behind a lovely counter, with a comfy chair, in a pleasant setting, with amiable co-workers, I am bored stiff because the phone only rings about 12 times a day, the admin tasks I am responsible for could be completed in less than an hour, and the internet filtering wont allow me to play with my myspace page. Which is what I would otherwise be doing when bored but supplied with internet access.

So instead, I'm blogging here. Honestly its one of the more enjoyable aspects of myspace anymore, I guess it makes just as much sense to do it here as elsewhere.

Camping this weekend! Yahoo. Weather looks like it'll cooperate. Left to procure:

• tequila
  
• ice

I mean, that's all any true camper needs right?

Going to try again to make the 9 muses open mic thing on Monday. Hopefully this time it pans out...