Allergic to the Sun: Christmas is in a week...wtf, bro.

As I lie on my comfy bed and listen to a live version of Years & Years' "Eyes Shut" (which is distracting me very much, by the way... I just want to jam out. Example:

)

it hits me that Christmas is a week away. It's sad that I'll be so far away from friends and family back home, but I'll be pet-sitting a wonderful dog and cat in an awesome house, and I want to treat the seclusion as a writing retreat. When I'm not doing my regular babysitting work, I will be writing. Poetry mostly, I think, unless an urge to work on a short story I started so, so long ago (like, two weeks ago) sets in. We shall see. The house is also equipped with an Apple TV and the owners have HBO Go, so anything could happen, really. Basically, I'm excited to have my own space for a week.

I've talked to several friends on the phone recently, and when you talk to people you know well and catch up on life, you do a lot of evaluating. Because inevitably you will be asked, "How are you? How's the new place? Are you doing well?" And you will give the best answers you can give, but, really, do you even know how you feel? I'd like to stick around long enough to see what it'll be like to communicate through sensation or feeling--I think in the future we'll all have little antennae that we'll poke each other with and a sort of sensational communication will take place and we'll just know what the other person means.

How am I? How's the new place? Am I doing well? In short, yes, I am well and the new place is good. Portland is a great city to live in, my living situation is working out, and I'm staying busy with both work and play. I'm getting confident on my bike and learning which roads are bike-friendly. I'm growing a tougher skin against the rain. I'm sampling a variety of brunch restaurants. Have I mentioned how insane brunch is in Portland? People here are nuts about brunch. It's crazy. I'm talking hour-long waits at some places. But, brunch is something I am 100% willing to wait for. Brunch is the Merlin of meals. King Arthur is lunch, like a solid soup & sandwich combo. Guinevere is after-work drinks. Lancelot is the app sampler at Applebee's. But Merlin--Merlin is the glorious magic that is brunch.

Guys. Do you ever feel stuck between your present and your future? I am putting in a conceded effort to participate, contribute, say "yes!" to invitations and opportunities. Even though Portland isn't exactly what I thought it would be, I am grasping it by the horns and taking it in. I suppose I could try harder to meet "native" Portlanders (read: Californians who've been here for 4+ years who deny that they play into the Cali-migrant stereotype) but I feel fairly comfortable with the group of peers I have at the moment. Anyway, in addition to Portland life, I'm wondering what's next. Where am I going? How can I do what I love and make money? How am I going to shape this next phase of my life? How can I be near the people I care about and still follow my dreams?

Something I've realized since being here is that I have to do the things I want to do. I know that sounds stupid, but it's true. In college, I wanted to be a writer, but I hardly ever read (outside of class) or wrote. After graduating I started reading again. In Nice I wrote occasionally but didn't make it a priority. Now when I have a free moment, I'm like, "I should be writing right now." I want to make YouTube videos and be consistant in the content I create and upload (and now that I have a room of my own, I can do that again!). I want to build community around reading and writing, and I started the Writer's Forum MeetUp group, which is a good start. I don't know. I don't know if any of these things will lead to a job or career, but the compulsion to make something and share it is there, and I'm going to ride it and see where it takes me.

Currently I'm listening to Amanda Palmer read her book, The Art of Asking, on audiobook and holy 'effing poo, read it. Something I have a difficult time admitting, or proudly proclaiming, is that I'm an artist. I am. I have to make things. And I have to share these things with others. (Not everything. Lol. Some things no one will ever see.) Amanda talks about asking people to believe you, as an artist.

PLEASE. BELIEVE ME. I'M REAL.

Rarely do people look you straight in the eye and see you. Part of an artist's job is to create situations or environments in which those eye-lock moments can happen. To connect the dots.

This was a Poet — It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings —
And Attar so immense

From the familiar species
That perished by the Door —
We wonder it was not Ourselves
Arrested it — before —

Emily Dickinson explains that a poet (or artist in general) creates this concentrated bit of meaning out of the "ordinary"--something imperceptible that the artists brings to life--and the audience is like, "Whoa, bessie! I've totes-bagoats felt that way before. Thanks for showing me my own feeling/experience." When that happens--when there is a tangible exchange between a creator's creation and its audience--that moment is what I'm after.

But money is a thing. Woo hoo!

If you want to see more of me, feel free to check out my latest YouTube videos! I recently did a video blog (vlog) where I take you around Portland for a day: