Not Even Jail Can Keep Me From Here

*I made a boo-boo when sizing these, so click on the image to see it fully.*

5/7/09

I walked around today and took pictures of everything that I thought was pretty. It wasn't what I meant to do. The thought occurred to me and I was off without considering things.

I hate living in Portland until it's sunny again. Then I remember how much I love it. Double when I start taking pictures of everything, because I'm out in the sun looking for pretty things. This happens every time a camera is put in my hands.

I just realized I forgot to wear sun block. Every day, my skin gets a little redder.

My new camera is awesome, but the graininess is irritating.

Old +Dilapidated + Rusty = Prettiness.

I started to love Portland again once I was in the southeast area, specifically close to Ladd's Addition. I began to have a happy memory from my childhood, which I'll be the first to admit rarely happens.

I remembered being in the backyard of the house my dad had when I was little. It was blue and a few blocks off of Hawthorne and 37th. I sat in the grass picking dandelions and picking them apart. Not in a destructive way; I wanted to see what they were made of, what they looked like on the inside, what they did when I squeezed them between my fingers. Of course, I was a little kid, not even kindergarten age, so I was really just looking. Looking, and looking, and looking. I was too young and mentally undeveloped to be aware that something was wrong, that reality was pinched at the edges. I couldn't differentiate my reality from everyone else's; I thought the pinched vision feeling was...well, I didn't think about it. I just looked and absorbed knowledge.

It was when I was sitting in the grass under the sun picking dandelions apart that I was truly happy. Not just happy, good. Everything felt good, and right, and healthy.

Someone was there with me. I think it was one of my aunts. I don't remember the conversation leading up to it, but I told her that dandelions were my favorite flower and that I wanted to grow them. She told me that I couldn't because they were ugly and needed to be pulled. She also said that they couldn't be my favorite flower because they were a weed. My stomach ached for a moment as it did when I forced myself to be something I wasn't, and I spent a lot of mental energy after that trying to like roses, or tulips, or something that was an actual flower. I didn't realize until today that I had been stopping myself from liking dandelions since then. For the first time since the time of that memory, I let myself love them. I love how they look like little suns with green stems. I love how they smell, and I have a vague memory of how they taste. (I ate dirt when I was a kid. Eating dandelions wouldn't have been too much of a stretch.) I especially love it when they turn into white poofs. The more I heal from the past, the more I let myself pick them and make a wish before blowing the seeds away. The wishes I make have changed as I have; gone are the days of "I wish I had a pony.". Now I think...well, I can't say it because then it won't come true. Remember how you were supposed to blow away all the seeds at once or your wish wouldn't come true? Well, I don't worry about that anymore. Now I think that if it takes me a couple tries to blow all the seeds away, then it will take a couple tries for me to make my reality what I want it to be.

I realized that the warm glow this memory gave me has been there all my life, even if it was buried under yucky gooey grossness a good part of the time. It made me hopeful, hopeful without the usual pit of doubt surrounding it.

Now that I think about it, I don't think I could live in a place that doesn't have dandelions.

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I have the strength to disagree with people now. I'm aware of my right to protect myself, more than I ever have been in my life.

See above equation.

This sign is initially what made me take out my camera. I was utterly delighted by it. I'm delighted that there's someone in Portland who took the time to do this.

And now, clouds.

LOOK AT THAT! Look at how they seem to make a ceiling for the city. It's just so damned beautiful. I heard someone say that the clouds in Portland sometimes make them feel like they're on acid. Anyway. I got bubble tea.

This is going to be my Summer of Love. I can feel it in my tummy. I'm going to make a lot of wonderful things happen this summer. I can say that without immediately falling into a swamp of doubt and self-hatred. I'm going to look in the mirror every day and see this face:

And I'm happy with that.

The bands of the day are Interpol and Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet. The flower of the day is of course our friend the dandelion. The kitty of the day is Pierre:

I love this city so damn much. I can't wait to get the fuck out of here.