Portland allergies
Archived from December 03, 2005
Whoa. I couldn't BELIEVE how bad my allergies were in Portland. I lived in Portland four YEARS and I never had allergies - I NEVER HAD ALLERGIES. Now all of a sudden I go back there for 2 weeks and it's like I have a fat man hitting me in the back of the head all the time. Jesus H. I don't even know what caused it. I can only assume it's psychosomatic.
Psychosomatic?
Psychosomatic.
I had the most difficult time leaving at the end of this visit. I was surprised. There was no boy drama this time. I didn't even get to adequately hang out with all the people I know. Yet for some reason, this was the visit where I cried the day I left.
Maybe I was just tired. That's totally feasible. I'd been sleeping on people's couches, cushions on the floor, fold out beds or futons in meat lockers for 2 weeks - all the while staying out or up until 2am. Meanwhile everyday I would wake up thinking "crap, I'm wasting precious hang out time by sleeping." I'd venture to say I didn't get a decent night's sleep for 2 weeks. I must've been pretty tired. Hence the last day cry.
I'd missed it, though. I'd missed it so much. I loved hanging out with all these sweet looking scenesters, these beautiful young people, everyone reads, they all are in or went to college, everyone wants to recycle and be an active part of their community. People live there because they love living there, everyone is handsome and wears cute clothing, they consume locally manufactured goods and support their friends' art, work and services.
Friends. I missed my friends. I missed my friends' friends. I missed seeing strangers seeing their friends. I missed the pungent smell of patchouli. I missed people being curious about new ideas. I missed intellectuals. I missed "local" I missed "artists" I missed knowing someone who knows someone. I missed not having to have a car, I missed carpooling, I missed tall men. I missed "locally owned" I missed "independent". I missed everyone being cheap and not feeling guilty about it. I missed being around people who are a lot like I am. I missed being around women. I missed feminists. I missed people who don't care about body hair; I missed white people playing African music and black people reading Chinese. I missed coats and hats, I missed middle class. I missed getting by, I missed cooking, I missed moving slowly and not feeling like I'm getting run over.
We moved slowly together. I missed those things so much. And then I cried.
I got home and I didn't feel happy to be there. That was so surprising to me. Every time I come home I'm glad to be there.
I felt like something was missing. I felt like I needed to do something, like I needed to call someone or check my mail, but I didn't. All that was there were credit card letters.
So, what is up with the allergies?
I think I'm feeling lonely. Lonely and pinned down. Lonely, pinned down and burned out.
I'm doing stuff. I've been performing regularly, but it's not that fun right now. I need to make a change. How easy it would be to go back to pdx. I'd fit right in. It's so easy - or at least it feels that way. But I'm going to give it some more time.
That's why my allergies were there, to remind me that I needed to go home, that it's not perfect in PDX, and that I have a lot to learn and do in LA.
I didn't feel like going to Portland before I left. I even wrote to my friend that I didn't want to go but felt somewhat obligated. A trip to PDX "made sense" with my vacation time. I didn't want to leave LA.
I didn't want to leave LA.
Thank you, allergies, for keeping me on task.
<< | Posted by Starr at 2:11 PM | >>