I’ve been struggling to finish an essay—it isn’t writer’s block , maybe writer’s bleh? The pieces I am working on shift direction as I write—I think I am writing about small ideas but the writing reveals bigger ideas that I struggle to wrangle. For example, this week I thought I was writing about going to the movies.
Read on or you can skip it if you prefer to head right to the news because there’s exciting stuff down there.
Last weekend, on my day off, I couldn’t decide what to do. A migraine has been lingering at the edge of my brain for 10 days, sometimes becoming full blow and demanding sleep. Mostly, the pain clouds hang low, just chillin’, making focus impossible. Faced with no plans but many options, I opened a spinner app on my phone aptly titled Decision Roulette. Sure you can use it to choose a number or a winner for your instagram give away, but some days I use it to decide what’s for dinner or whether or not I should leave the house. Which is how I found myself downtown on a Sunday, circling the block with a hundred other families, trying to enjoy free admission to the art museum. Outdone by the musical matinee audience parking in every available spot, I gave up on phase one of my plan. I spun again, heading to Laurehurst Park to sit in the sun.
I’ve been angry at apples before. So laugh at me siting in my truck making choices with a spinner but I was out of the house, and trying.
If you have never had a migraine, or persistent pain over days, a side effect is that you start to feel like you exist in a bubble. The outside world is dulled, it may be difficult to communicate or understand what folks are saying to you. I become impatient because I am in pain but the pain is constant so I forget that is why I am impatient. A fun cycle. When I realize what is happening, I start to doubt my own reasoning for anything, a by-product of spending a year without control of my emotions or reactions1. If you’ve ever stood in the cereal aisle for 10 minutes debating which flavor of cheerios2 you know this kind of decision fatigue. Mix in constant pain and a short fuse and I am frustrated with a simple decision. I’ve been angry at apples before. So laugh at me siting in my truck making choices with a spinner but I was out of the house, and trying.
Back to me in the park; I’m attempting to soak in the sun but there are too many people around and I am a little cold. Again, a migraine was squatting the edge of my consciousness, waiting. Maybe I wasn’t annoyed with people, maybe my eyes were sensitive to bright light, an awful contradiction when we get so little of it in the winter. I have sat with my back to the sun, so my eyes could be shaded but I my hands and the back of my neck could be bathed in sunlight.
If you have never had a migraine, or persistent pain over days, a side effect is that you start to feel like you exist in a bubble.
I could’ve got home. But the spinner said go to the movies and I didnt want to argue with the spinner. If you hand over your fate to an app and then refuse its choices you better be ready to make decisions. I certainly was not.
I parked near the theater and walked to a bar—again with the decisions! I spotted a familiar bar, sat down and ordered what would’ve been a usual drink for me five years ago.
A lot has happened in five years. We all know this. Along with the Great Stay At Home, I also got married, moved, was a step mom, won at menopause, developed frequent heartburn, and spent more than a year and a half recovering from a concussion that permanently altered my brain. And my feet are fucked up so sometimes walking sucks.
My usual drink was too sweet.
I texted a friend to verify that yes, we are getting too old for sugary soda and yes, bourbon, even good bourbon, smells like every bad decision I made in my 20’s. And 30’s.
An aside that threatens to become The Big Question in this little essay I was writing about the movies: who am I? I mean, sitting at the bar at 3 pm ordering a drink, I’m ok with that but who do I look like to an observer? There was a 30 something punkish guy next to me, who looked like people I knew 15 years ago, and an older, tired punkish guy on the other side of me who looks like some people I know now. I was wearing my fancy new wool button up coat. I carried a bag like a purse. Maybe I just look like an average middle-aged Portland white lady. Maybe no one would’ve looked twice if I joined the PTA; maybe I look like a normie to my punk friends and a weirdo to my mom’s friends.
bourbon, even good bourbon, smells like every bad decision I made in my 20’s. And 30’s.
I asked a friend about this as he was tattooing me today—do you ever tell stories about your past lives that surprise or perplex people? Absolutely, he agreed. He and I were scrappy punks in our 20’s, climbing dumpsters and having flower fights. Our friends with face tattoos climbed in the window. I lived in a closet with a loft. I rode my bike long distances alone, under equipped, traveled internationally without a plan and finally cut off my stupid blonde dreads with borrowed scissors in a youth hostel in Mexico.
I no longer have no idea what I look like to others. I don’t worry, but it is unnerving to believe you appear one way and walk by a mirror and realize you look very different than you believed. It is as if I have had spinach in my teeth for years and didn’t notice.
I drank the too sweet drink before all the ice could water it down. I crossed the street to the theater, ordered popcorn and milk duds3. I sat alone, ate my snacks and somehow didn’t cry at the exhaustingly sad movie Id been waiting to see.
What pairs well with existential crisis and seeing a movie alone on a Sunday afternoon? May I suggest All of Us Strangers?
I cried on the way home. I found interviews with Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal extolling the themes of love, and healing, of childhood trauma and the difficulty of relationships with parents. The movie unfolds how growing up gay in the 80’s was scarring, and I cried more. There is love and it is beautiful and it is deeply lonely.
too freaky for squares, too square for the freaks.
When I left the theater, I could see the lip of the sunset reflected in the lid of clouds to the west. The rain would come back the next day. My truck was parked on a side street, the newest number sticker barely visible in the winter dusk: too freaky for squares, too square for the freaks.
I thought about what to do with all this doubt and confusion and question of identity. Can I put some adjectives into the roulette and use it to describe myself? Does it matter? Maybe I am a freak to the PTA, a normie to the kids at metal shows; appear hetero in queer spaces and a weirdo at the straight wedding. I am all of it and none of it. I could put the options in the spinner choices but I suspect the spinner would not stop, refusing to chose just one.
studio practice in march!
We are keeping the collage party going with studio practice classes ONLINE and In person for March. These classes are time for you to work in a supportive, encouraging environment. I offer an optional exercise at the beginning of each class, plus optional time to share. Throughout class we work, answer questions, and brainstorm solutions. If you are tired of working alone and want some weekly dedicated collage time, this might be the class for you!
in person: Paisley Studios on Tuesdays, noon -2 pm starting 3/5 $120
NEW! online! continuing with our februllage momentum! Mondays 4-6 pm PST starting 3/4 $0-120 pay what you can
I donated $260 to the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund
because of y’all.
For the February Studio Practice class, I decided to make the class pay-what-you-want AND donate 30% of the total class fees to an organization getting medical care, food and water to children in Gaza. I love my job.
Since 2020 I have donated a portion all sales to different local (Portland and Louisiana) and national groups working to feed hungry folks, protect trans spaces, fund abortion access, & promote the health and well being of Black folks. The monthly accounting was daunting so I switched to a standard regular monthly donation to Milk Crate Kitchens and Equitable Giving Circle, approximately 10 % of the monthly sales for the Keep Writing postcard project. These groups work in Portland work to provide food security for those in need. There is no perfect model for giving but I am committed to giving a portion of my business income back to my local community.
more hope!
hi! as if you don’t hear enough from me but did you know about these?
daily collage anyone? I’m posting a new work every day at @___is_this_art on instagram it’s not all good but it is there!
wonder what happens to the Keep Writing postcards you return to me? they eventually get posted to tumblr! Im a bit behind on posting responses but there is plenty there!
thank you double header of concussion and menopause
plain! maybe honey nut for a special occasion!
the best movie combination unless some kind of gummy cinnamon option exists—cinnamon bears being my first choice. crunchy buttery salty popcorn and a sweet sticky candy is perfection.