September 23, 2014

so the thing about coming back to your blog after a long absence is always that there is so much to say and nowhere to begin and even though you spend a lot of time reading other people's blogs you still think nobody can possibly be interested in what you have to say so why bother.

the only way to do it is to mind vomit, so here goes.

rainy season
it's raining in portland. 

streak, day 310
I am still running. I have run every day for 310 days. it has been simultaneously easy and hard. it has required something that masquerades as discipline but is really more a cocktail of stubbornness, habit, a tendency towards completionism, and a love of running (most of the time). I mean, maybe that's all discipline is, but I don't think so. I couldn't keep doing this if I didn't love to run, but just loving to run isn't enough; you also have to arbitrarily and illogically feel driven to keep the chain going. for me it constantly feels like a competition with time itself. every run is another day I beat the odds. I'm safe until tomorrow.

I love it. it has been the only constant in a year full of extremes, a rope I have followed hand over hand through the dark. I am nowhere near where I thought I would be, running-wise, and I am learning how to be okay with that. how to be patient. 

people ask how long I will go. a coworker often teases me by talking about "after the streak is over." I cannot imagine voluntarily giving it up. only cataclysm could do it.

but still: I'm bearing down on the end of the year, and though it feels commonplace -- like brushing my teeth -- it also feels jubilant.   

find your weaknesses
my new job is good. actually if you can think of a word between 'okay,' 'fine,' and 'good,' that's where it is. I am enjoying it just fine but it still feels weird, like something I'm just trying on for awhile. I guess that'll pass.

it's hard to be the most junior one. it means by default I am the weak link in our team of editors. (oh by the way, I am now a full-time sheet music editor.) nobody is upset about this but me. everyone echoes again and again that it takes 2-3 years to really learn the job. they tell me I'm learning quickly, doing great. they know I won't know things. but I HATE NOT KNOWING THINGS. I find publicly Not Knowing Things to be extremely disagreeable. but I can't Know Things any faster. it is a job that you necessarily must fail at to learn completely. I'm learning to live with this particular discomfort but it, rather than any particular musical or clerical skill, is the biggest challenge of the job so far.

the other editors are the bomb diggity though. yes. bomb diggity. I said it.

not my job
much to my surprise, I mentally dropped the opera like a smoking hot potato after I left. it was easy not to think about it over the summer, when my life and the opera's life did not really overlap. but now the season is underway, friends are about to open the show, and I will tell you that it is a little bit hard and definitely sad. sad but not sorry. just so we're clear.

I have a ticket to opening night. I haven't watched an opera since 2010. I almost can't remember what it's like.

the knitting and tv bingeing portion of the year is upon us. 

recent spam that accurately reflects my passion about breakfast

Why did I get yelled at, 19337470 you ask? I made a huge mistake, 19337470 I suppose. I ordered English breakfast with some toast, 48da484fda38bc1a4107f2ff81d37d35 but I had no idea the toast doesn't come at the same time as the breakfast. When I went 19337470 to pick up the breakfast platter, the guy who's dispatching the food asked if I also ordered a side of toast(furiously). Said yes, 19337470 and he pushed the toast plate over and yelled "I've been shouting for you to pick up your toast for the past 10 minutes!".48da484fda38bc1a4107f2ff81d37d35

oh geez 
in terms of 'stuff to write about,' this has hardly chipped the iceberg. I don't even know how to get it all out without it being a mixed up jumble of 50,000 words.


  1. I drive that old desert road and take a shot across the sage where we did once, for memory's sake. I do it sometimes even now. The whump surprises, but fades. Still, a part remains indelible. It's a strong memory.

  2. And I sure did kill the shit out of at least one rock out there.