What a long, strange trip it's been. A.K.A most unoriginal blog title ever. Of all time.

Good gracious! I have not stood still for at least three weeks. If I wasn't road-trippin' I was foot trippin', which are both better than my typical restless plain old trippin'...

ROAD TRIPPIN':

Had a blast at the Oregon Country Fair again, third year in a row! This time I headed from Seattle to Eugene, OR, with Melissa, our friend Rory, and Melissa's cousin Joy, who flew in from Florida to go to the fair and stay with us in Seattle for a few days. Oh, Joy is AWESOME by the way. We totally hit it off, which was good because it made the 6-7 hour drive a lot more entertaining sharing the backseat with her. We even have our own little inside jokes now. Like the whole thing about the "dance-box"?? HAHAHAHA!! Oh, yeah, you're not in on the joke. It's like a Me-and-Joy kinda thing so... Go make your own super-sweet new friend, K? Jesus.

We left on Thursday so we could set up our camp a day early.The fair itself was pretty fun, I always like an opportunity to unabashedly release my inner hippie. I used to be a lot more of an outwardly peace-lovin', guitar-stummin, psychadelia-experimenting, no-bra, no-makeup, flower-child on a daily basis. Now I've broadened my horizons a little, and my style has become a lot more diverse. And I care about things like people seeing my nipples when it's cold, and going out in public with my eyes looking like droopy stoplights. And I do lines of coke off of little mirror-platters like a real grown-up.

OK that last part isn't true. Like I can afford coke. haha.

But when I go to festivals... I like to un-stifle that giggly, grinning stoner girl who would burst out of me IF she could find the motivation (and wasn't so distracted with making daisy-chains for every puppy that walks by). So we got to the fair, she smoked, she drank, she danced, she ran around half naked, she made merry. Then we left for home Sunday night, and she packed up her knapsack and retreated to her bungalow to make brownies for the next festival.

Then Monday morning, after a lovely long sleep in my own bed, I got a call from my ex-boyfriend/current friend/tango partner/it's complicated, who had just left Seattle 10 days earlier to take a 2-month trip hiking up the Pacific Crest Trail. It went like this:

Him: "Hey sweetheart...."

Me: *hmmm... what an innocent and polite tone...* "Hey cupcake, what's up?"

Him: "Well... What are you doing today?"

Me: "Oh, I don't know, probably get some laundry done, unpack my camping stuff, I was thinking of working on my painting--"

Him: "You wanna drive down to Oregon?"

Me: "What do you mean? I just got back from Oregon last night!"

Him: (desperate tone) "I really messed up my feet and they're covered in blisters and I cant go any further on the trail because it's 50 miles to the next town and what if I get stuck somewhere and no one finds me and they hurt really bad and I'll pay for your gas and pleasepleaseplease come get me?!?"

Me: *sigh* "ok, what part of Oregon?"

Him: ".....um.... Medford...."

Me: "Gah! Are you serious? That's like a 9 hour drive!"

Him: "PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!! SAVE ME! I'll pay for everything!"

Me: *sigh*...."well...." *sigh* "OK. Fine. I'll call you when I leave."

Him: "Hooray!! Thank you so much!!... Hey baby?"

Me: "Tch... What?"

Him: "I just wanted to tell you... You're my hero and I better not forget it."

That last part is our little inside joke. You wouldn't get it. Get your own complicated kind-of relationship type thing. Tch.

So I drove down to Medford on Monday, and we decided to take 101 all the way back up to Washington because I was so sick of I-5 after 9 straight hours I could tear my eyes out, and I preferred the coastal route. It actually turned out to be a really fun trip though. We walked around in the Redwoods, and stopped at this wierd roadside wild animal petting zoo where we got to play with baby lions and tigers, and I made friends with a wallaby, and we drank cheap whisky and camped out in my car by the beach every night, and I found a hermit crab, and poked those wierd little anemone type things that squirt you, and watched Ivy lose her goddamn mind playing in the sand (her favorite)... We didn't even get home til Friday. It was a pretty sweet mini-adventure.

FOOT TRIPPIN':

Having 5 days off a week can be a blessing, especially for the social life. Pretty much anytime someone says "Hey, you wanna go ____ with me on ___day?" You can be like "Hell yeah, I got that day off! And the next day too, so we can party afterwards! WORD (insert friend's name here)"!

They say TIME is the most precious of resources, so when I'd hear people complain about how they work so often that they don't get to do the things they want to do, or see enough of their friends and family, I got to feel like a rich person. I've had freedom to do whatever I want, with whoever I want, almost anytime I want. As long as it's free/extremely cheap.

I think maybe MONEY is the second most precious of resources, and my two days a week has been forcing me to pinch pennies and stress a little about my finances over recent months.

Also, there's those days where I havn't made a plan with anyone, and I've already checked off my list of random entertaining things to do with Ivy Mae or by myself, and I wake up and look around my room for awhile and think "hmmm.... What to do today..... Options are endless... So...Screwdrivers for breakfast? No no no. That's not a real breakfast. But it does involve orange juice, so... It's at least part of a balanced breakfast... Right? Right... Hmmm..."

And then there's the friends and family who know about my 5 days off and they're all like "Man! If I had that kind of time off I'd go to school, volunteer at the retirement home, take up ballet, join a book club, plan a trip to Spain... Hey, what have you been up to?" And even though I feel like I've been busy, all I can think of is "Oh, ya know, just kickin' it... with friends... ummmmm... Tango, I've been doing that still.... psssshhhhh...*tongue clicking, eyes rolling upward*... I went to this show last week, it was pretty fun... yeah... OH! Haha! The other day I had screwdrivers for breakfast, and I walked all the way from my house on Capitol Hill to the waterfront! And I tried to get as many high-fives from strangers as possible!! HAHA! I got like 12, and also $2.35 altogether because a couple people must've thought I was crazy or homeless or something! HAHA!!! Right? HA! haha... ha... ahem."

I started thinking maybe I should be more productive with my time.

So I got another job, canvassing for the ASPCA. Which is awesome, because I've always wanted to do something in the way of animal advocacy. Plus I get to walk around in the sun all day getting exercise, I REALLY like everyone I work with and they seem to REALLY like me, and I'll have some extra $ so I don't have to stress out so much anymore.

But mainly, I'll be busy and productive and healthier. Which equals happier.

Canvassing is a very interesting job. Knocking on the doors of stranger's homes and giving them a shpeal about animal cruelty, then asking them to donate to the cause brings forth a strange variety of reactions from the residents of the upper/upper-middle-class neighborhoods we spend our day in. I've only been out doing it for 3 days, but I've already experienced enough to give a lesson in...

ANSWERING YOUR DOOR

Not like this


Step one: Open door, smile, and say hello.

When a 5'2" smiling redheaded girl with a clipboard is at your door, there's really no need to be alarmed. It is entirely unnessicary to-

a. look at her through the window, make eye contact, and close your blinds

b. open your door 1 inch so she has to talk to only your eyeball

c. yell at her to get off your porch because you hate solicitors, point to your "no soliciting" sign, scream to be removed from her "list", slam your door in her face, and encourage your children to ridicule her while she says "sorry to have bothered you" as she walks away. Besides being rude, you are also being ignorant because a solicitor is one who goes door to door pushing a product for money/commission. A person working on behalf of a non-profit organization is out to educate you on an issue and alert you to what you can do to become involved. They are not pushy, or using tactics, and they are not getting rich off of it. They care about their cause, and they're biggest hope is that you might care too. If you don't, just politely say so. They will be more than happy to get off your fucking porch.

Step two: Just listen to the shpeal.

Unless you are doing something that needs requires immediate attention (such as dealing with a crying baby, cooking, entertaining guests, etc, in which case you can say "I'm sorry, now isn't a good time, I'm currently ____". They will ask you if they should come back at another time, and unless you think you might be interested, you should say "No thank you, that won't be nessicary") there is really no need to interrupt the person telling you why they came to your door. It will literally take them less than ONE MINUTE to get it out, so just listen and wait for them to finish, and if you aren't interested, politely say so and the person will say "thank you for your time, have a great day", and move on to someone who actually MIGHT be interested.

Step three: Don't make up some wierd bullshit about why you can't donate. Just say you aren't interested, they're not going to ask you why.

-acceptable responses to shpeal include:

a. No thank you, I'm not interested in participating today.

b. I have already allocated my charitable funds for this year, but thank you for the information.

c. I will have to discuss this with my significant other. Thanks for stopping by.

-unacceptable responses include:

a. "Oh, what with the economy and everything we're really stuggling, or we would donate. It's just that we really don't have the means." This CAN BE an acceptable response if you DON'T have a Beamer and a Mercades sitting in your driveway, AREN'T wearing fancy designer clothes or giant diamonds all over, or AREN'T living in the most giant ocean-view house I've ever seen. This just makes you look like an asshole, and you're better off just going with the "No thank you, I'm not interested in participating today".

b. "I already donate to my church/cancer/children etc." That's nice. Donating is a noble thing to do. But you don't have to prove it to the person at your door, and tell them that the cause(s) you're involved in are clearly more important than the one this person has chosen to dedicate their time to. It's nicer to say "I have already allocated my charitable funds for this year, but thank you for the information".

c. "Get off my porch you fucking solicitor". See Step One. And act like a goddamn normal human being. If this person's presence at your door is that irritating to you, there are deeper emotional issues that you should address before speaking to another person, unless that person is a therapist.

While I am aware that the type of people who act like monsters toward me are probably just miserable people, and are probably the kind of person that tells the diabled/possibly mentally challenged homeless person to "get a fucking job", and it's my personal opinion that these people should be euthanized as if they had rabies, for being a hazard to themselves as well as others, I still feel it nessicary to voice these little tips in hopes that it might change someone's attitude who maybe just didn't think of it this way before. You know, treating people with respect and kindness. I mean, maybe some people havn't heard. I'm here to educate, that's all.

I have had a lot more positive responses than negative, though. Also a few very strange responses, which I will throw into the positive category because they are entertaing and make my day equally as much as a contribution.

I've also learned that little old ladies are my favorite people in the world (while middle aged mothers are my least favorite).

On my first day, I was talking to a little old lady who responded "Well I can't afford to contribute today, but I want you to know that I'm very opposed to animal abuse.... The chicken fighting.... And the people who have sexual problems with them... I would say I'm especially opposed to the people who have sex with them."

Wait, what?

I tell you about dog-fighting and puppy mills, and when you think of animal cruelty the first thing that comes to mind is..... bestiality?

AAAAAAHHHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

All I could think to say was "Well, I'm glad to hear you're opposed to those things... I mean... Who isn't, right?"

Then there was the house I went to where there was all kinds of wierd jugs and bottles on the porch, and it smelled like rotten food, and I wasn't sure anyone lived there, and when I went to knock on the door, but there was this spider that definitely ranks in the top 5 of the biggest spiders I've ever seen, so I was too scared to knock on the door because I didn't want it to fall on me or something. Just as I was going to leave, this little old lady opened the door. I tried telling her I'm working on behalf of the ASPCA, but she informed me that she's pretty much deaf, and won't be contributing to any causes because "I am happily waiting to die, so I'm not participating in anything anymore. I'm doing what they call "withdrawing from society". I am counting the days." This would sound very sad and morbid, but she was so cheerful about it that it kind of made me admire her for being so accepting, if not excited about her impending death. She went on to tell me she would soon be dying of Mercury poisoning from the old-fashioned fillings in her teeth, and about how corrupt the ADA is, and insisted on letting me know "I don't want you to think I don't care about animals. I have a big raccoon that comes into my yard, and I feed her, and she takes food to her five babies..." Literally right when she was telling me that I see this giant raccoon walking up the sidewalk, in the middle of the afternoon, and start briskly heading toward the porch. I blurted out "Oh my God!! There it is now"! The raccoon came right up on the steps, a little over a foot away from me, so the lady grabbed this little brown paper bag from next to her door and tossed it a couple pieces of bread and it walked into the yard and munched on them. It was like a scene from a movie or something.

Then there was the other half-deaf little old lady who's huband was gardening outside, and when I told her I was from the ASPCA she replied "Oh, I don't need anyone to take me anywhere. My huband drives me." And no matter how I tried to explain what the ASPCA was all about, this lady was determined to talk about what she wanted to talk about. To told me that She and her husband were 93 and 95 years old, and that the way they keep in shape and stay young is excersizing daily and going out dancing once a week. She said "Every time we go I dancing, I just don't understand young girls today. They just don't care about looking pretty. When I was a young girl, I wore high heels and pretty dresses every day of my life. I exersized and ate right, and even though I'm 93 I can still disco better than any of these drab looking young'uns. Do me a favor-when you go out dancing, dress up pretty and dance your best. That's the secret to staying young forever." I thanked her and told her I would, and she gave me a big hug and told me to please come back and chat with her anytime. I just might. I saved her address.

There's a million things to be, you know that there are

One of my Psych professors in college once stated that the uprise of anxiety and depression disorders in American culture over the last 50 years could be directly related to the rise in options we are presented with in our daily lives in our advanced industrialized society.

For example, in the 1940's the only cereals that were widely available were Grape Nuts, Shredded Wheat, Corn Flakes, Kix, and Captain Crunch.* There's your 5 options. Pick one.

But now when you go to the store there's an entire aisle dedicated to cereal. There's cereal in boxes, and in bags. Fruity, chocolatey, and marshmallow-y. There's rival brands' versions of the same cereal with different shapes, colors, and prices. Some are on sale, some never are, and some will be if you grab the coupon out of that little automatic coupon dispenser thing. There's corn or whole grain, there's sugar or sugar free, and it's all part of a balanced breakfast.

With all of the trials and stuggles the average adult has to deal with on a daily basis, now you have to spend like ten minutes figuring out what used to be a split second decision. Jesus. What the fuck DO I want for breakfast?

Judging by the way I've felt the last few years as a fully independent young woman, I have to agree with my Psych professor. With all of the other struggles with maintaining finances, relationships, health, work, home/car maintainence, plus trying to be productive with my time, planning my future, and trying not to make horrifying mistakes along the way, at the end of the day choosing my cereal could possibly drive me out of my goddamn mind.

I don't even know if I want to cut my hair or not.** I mean, it is summer and a short cut would be cute... I could dye it new funky colors and it would be all voluminous and super curly when it's short. I could even try out some bangs! But then... I really like the way it looks when I put it up while it's long. I can put it in a big curly pile on my head with a few tendrils hanging down, and it's really easy to style that way. If I ask other people's opinion I get 50% "Do it! Change is good!" and 50% "No, you'll miss your long hair!!" response. I mean, I shouldn't be too worried about this decision because it's just hair. It always grows back. But I can't help it. It's literally been weighing on my mind for weeks. I mean it's not ruining my life or anything, but it's just one more thing on top of everything else. Another aisle of cereal.

I can't deny that I've battled bouts and attacks of anxiety and depression throughout my entire life, from as young as I have memory of. This could be caused by chemicals, circumstances, my parent's fault, or just the way I'm wired. But I think it's only fair to recognise that I've never had an easy time making decisions. I see the pro's and con's to pretty much EVERYTHING, and I'm never entirely sure which option would suit me better. They're both good. They're both bad. But which one is more ME?

Well, that's impossible to know if you don't know "ME". If you're like me, and you live in a world of grey, where you accept that everything changes and almost nothing is as it seems, including "ME", you're back to square one. Always. When I was little, I was all about Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Then in high school it was Honey Bunches of Oats. Lately, I've been pretty into the Kashi Go Lean Crunch. But it won't last. In another couple months I'll find something new, and I'll probably tell Kashi to fuck off for awhile. Maybe for years. Maybe forever.
Or maybe not.

I'm OK with not knowing ME. Whenever I've tried to get a firm handle on "who I am", by the time I think I've figured it out I've already changed again. So... Fuck it. I'll be whoever I want to be, on any given day. My only focus is that who I'm being is GOOD. Meaning:
Not causing harm to self or others.
Not being destructive.
Appreciating what I have.
Making something better.

It doesn't make anything easier to accept this grey-way of life. But it makes things more fair. I'd rather be fair and admit that I don't know for sure than assume that I'm right all the time and limit myself as well as others on the path to understanding.
When you ASSUME, you make an ASS of U and ME. haha. Seriously though.
No one appreciates you seeing the tip of the iceberg once and then pretending you've been studying it for years.
When I was around 9 or 10 years old my dad used to say, "You're so open-minded that your brains are falling out of your head". I havn't noticed a trail of grey matter yet, but I have to concur that my degree of open-mindedness sets me apart from most people I know.

I can see every side to every story. I can take a step back from my emotions and opinions, and understand objectively why a person would do something seemingly crazy, or unusual, maybe even a little "sick". Aside from murderers, rapists, chi-mo's, etc., I can usually find a way to understand why a person is the way they are, and therefore cannot judge them for it, because they are just humans like me.

To pass judgement is to say "I know for a fact that I am smarter, faster, more capable, or otherwise BETTER than YOU". And even if you instinctively feel that way about someone, it doesn't make you RIGHT. You have extremely limited information that has formed your opinion about another individual. You don't know what it's like to be that person.
You don't know how their parents felt about them when they were born, or how much money they had.
You don't know how kids treated this person in school. You don't know if this person was just always the "duck, duck, duck", or if they were chosen to be "goose" frequently enough to feel important.
You don't know if this person had trouble reading, or whether they were an active member of their ASB, or if they were a drug addict for awhile, or if they lost their best friend.
You don't know if all their lives they felt loved, or if they've spent all their time on this earth feeling hated and misunderstood by all other human beings.

The point is, you don't know the events that have taken place to create this person in front of you. All you are able to see is the result. And judging that result by your own standard is a natural human instinct; but BELIEVING, and VOICING that judgement as if YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT, is ignorant, counter-productive, and probably the exact reason that this person became this result you so disapprove of.

Maybe instead of saying "I HATE", try adopting "I DON'T UNDERSTAND".

Then try to understand.

Instead of declaring "THAT'S WRONG", maybe drop it down to "I WOULDN'T MAKE THAT CHOICE".

That's fine. You don't have to.

Having a wide array of options, ideas, people, places, and things in your life may very well cause uprises anxiety and depression. I guess I'll be looking forward to early wrinkles, grey hairs, and extra tears, because I'd prefer premature ageing tied to a neverending emotional struggle rather than putting limitations on what I can learn and experience in this one life I get, just because I wanted to pretend I already knew everything. I'd rather spend my life knowing that I gave every cereal a chance than spend it eating cornflakes and telling myself and everyone else that it's clearly best choice, and if you don't choose cornflakes you're a moron.

If ignorance is bliss, I'd rather be miserable.






*There may have been a few others, I only did about 5 minutes of research on that. But you get the point.
**This post was a draft for awhile. I cut it yesterday. I like it. I look like Shirley Temple.