Getting My Opes On

Here are a couple of things I am aware of:

1. This post is way past timely and you are probably sick of the tributes and tearful farewells at this point. 
2. There are many other topics of more worth to write about than a talk show host.

But, as this is my blog, I get to write about what I want when I want.  So there.  

I'll love you forever if you keep reading :)

Oprah's gone.  She's dunzo. No longer will she grace our television screens in the afternoons, making celebrities visibly uncomfortable or cry by asking the tough questions, and turning well mannered, middle aged women into blubbering, screaming idiots over cars and trips to Australia.  Dammit I'm going to miss her.

In one of her farewell surprise shows, Dakota Fanning showed up with a group of young ladies known as the "Oprah Show Babies."  It was one of my favorite moments of the show.  That was me up there- the little girl that said Oprah taught her to love to read, the older girls that learned about taking care of themselves, forgiveness and coping with abuse.  All of that was me.  I am an Oprah Show baby.

"Your voice has been the soundtrack of our lives.  Every milestone, every first, you were there."  I often say Oprah is my t.v. mom.  I was sort of a latch key kid-- I'd get home before everyone else and it'd just be me, the dog, and an empty house.  For many years, mostly in Jr. High, I didn't like myself very much.  I didn't feel safe, and when left alone in a house with nothing to do but sit in the silence, it got a little scary.  So I'd turn on Oprah.  She'd talk to me, tell me to take control of my destiny, tell me to honor my worth, and tell me what I should be asking for Christmas.  Oprah would say everything I wished my own mother would've said to me.  I love my mom, but we're just not big communicators in my family.  But we're getting better.  Oprah taught me to be a communicator.

As the years went on, the 4 pm time slot grew a little more difficult to catch as my school activities grew and my homework load strengthened.  Even now, I wouldn't even say I watched her everyday, or even every week.  So as the world prepared to say it's goodbyes to her, I started to wonder why I was having such an emotional response- why it was so sad to say goodbye to a woman I'd never met but felt knew me so deeply.  Aside from suspicions that I might be insane, here's what I came up with:

I don't think any of us can deny that being a woman in this world and keeping a healthy view of ourselves is difficult.  We are constantly surrounded by women that abandon their intelligence and self worth to obtain some sort of notoriety.  Oprah, on the other hand, has shown us that intelligence, compassion and kindness are, in fact, qualities needed to achieve success.  And she was there, everyday at 4 o'clock, sharing that message over and over and over again.  It's difficult to say how much I appreciate and needed that.

I hadn't realized how much Oprah had impacted me and my outlook on life and the world until I sat down this week to think about her impending absence.  Technically, she's in the business of entertainment and t.v.  But I think it's deeper than that.  Oprah is in the business of people.  She learns people's stories and shares them with the world.  The more I look at my own the life, I've realized this is the exact path I've decided to take.  On paper, I want to be a psychologist that writes novels in her spare time.  But what this really means is I want to sit down with people, learn where they're at in life, help them find redemption in their dark places.  And I want to tell their stories.  Actually, I want to help them tell their own stories.  I believe in the power of narration, the empowering sense of sharing something personal with someone else.  It's about faith and trust and acknowledging that you are significant enough to share things and to be heard.  That's how we enter into community with each other.  And without community, we'd all just be sad 13 year olds coming back from a difficult day of school to an empty house with no one to talk to but a lady on t.v.

So here's to Oprah.  For keeping us company when we were lonely, teaching us to value ourselves, hold one another in compassion, and believe in the power of a story.  Cheers!

How has Oprah impacted you and how are you coping with the void she's left in day time television?  

Gang Violence and Estate Sales

photo credit- weheartit

Back in September I moved into a sweet little house, with nice little roommates, cute little doo-dads painted on the walls, and precious little neighbors.  As it turns out, this awwdoorable house also sits in the middle of what seems to be a heightening gang "situation."  Twice now I've found my self in a dark corner, clutching my knees to my chest, wondering if I should risk crawling to Emily's room across the hall to hide under the covers with her.  I always wondered if I would be able to tell gun shots from a car backfiring.  I am quite the expert these days.  But what's life without a gang shooting here and there, amiright?  At any rate, I'm too lazy to consider moving and if I wasn't, I'm stuck here until the lease is up in December.  I also have my own bathroom and washer/dryer.  This is unheard of in Portland and not something I'm willing to give up because of a little gang violence.

So, to feel better about my possible life threatening living situation, I decided to spruce up the old bed chamber a bit.  Roommate Jackie and I perused some estate sales over the weekend.  It's a dance, estate sale shopping.  You have to know when to go, when to hold 'em and fold 'em, and when to jump on something before someone else snatches it out of your thrifty little fingers.  As garage sale season starts to blessedly approach again, there's really only three things you need to know to have an effective shopping trip.

     Estate Sale Pro Tip #1- Most sales run Friday through Sunday.  If you can, try to go the first day, right when it opens.  You'll get to see all the goods before everyone else snatch it all up.  But here's where you've got to start trusting your thrifty intuition- decide if whatever you've found is really worth the full price listed.  Usually prices will drop 50% on the last day of the sale.  So if it's not dripping in wet your pants, frenzy-inducing, vintage awesomeness, just let it sit there for a couple days.  If it's still there when you go back on Sunday, you'll feel like it was meant to be and end up paying a lot less.

     Estate Sale Pro Tip #2- So you've found that macrame trivet, bedazzled parrot hanging wall art, and half empty bottle of vanilla extract (I have seen all of these personally at sales).  And you waited until Sunday to purchase them, so they're ridiculously cheap-- but you're not done yet.  You are estate sale shopping, you are in this to buy unnecessary trinkets for literally next to nothing.  You. Mean. Business.  But you're also kind of passive aggressive and non confrontational.  If you've waited until the wee hours of a Sunday sale, all you have to do is mention a minor imperfection and the tired person working the cash register will give you a cheaper price.  This is how I usually do it-- as I pass him or her my items to ring up I describe them as I go.  "Here's a wripped parasol, a chipped tea cup, and a scarf with a hole in it."  Of course you could also barter with them, but like I said, this is for the non confrontational, passive aggressive set.  And now you've got a brand new (to you) half empty bottle of vanilla extract for not two dollars, not 1 dollar, but fifty cents.  Go you!

     Estate Sale Pro Tip #3- Try, if you can, to find a balance between honoring the life that you are rummaging through and keeping an emotional distance.  I struggle with this the most.  I walk through the emptied rooms with life remnants scattered here and there after being fondled by any and all shmucks in off the street, myself included.  All I can think about is this person- this person who doesn't live here any more, or just doesn't live at all.  And I get sad.  I get sad for the family that's having to grieve and get rid of everything that looks and smells and feels like this person that's not around anymore.  I start to think about how a life all of the sudden is reduced to some bins of clothing and silly art they bought in the 80s-- how exposed they would feel if they knew strangers were parading through their house, judging and making assumptions based on the way they chose to decorate their life.  I usually think myself into an existential crisis which promptly fades when I admire my finds in their new home-- my home.  To avoid any and all existential crises, don't take the sale personally.  Try to think, instead, of how their memories, stored in the nicks and the nacks, can allow them to live on alongside your new memories.  And unless you're super into music boxes, don't open any up.  They are alway creepy.  Always.

And that's it!  You're ready for summer, my dears.  Go out, buy irrationally cheap furniture and picture frames, and kitchen utensils, and think about how you may or may not have brought home a haunted music box.  But before you do, post your own garage/estate sale pro tips in the comments section.  I'd love to hear them!

Since I'm shamelessly gratuitous, soon I'll post pictures of my room pre and post Operation Anti-Gang Violence Redecoration.

A Sheepish Hello Again

A quite accurate (albeit skinnier) depiction of myself in Portland.

The last post I wrote went a little something like this: "Oh hey!  I'm not dead.  Just a bad blogger.  But I'm back and ready to spew my thoughts over all you fine fine readers out there."  That was eleven months ago.  I'll just leave it at that.

I've been thinking a lot about this blog.  Should I pick it back up?  Delete it and start a new blog?  Just delete it?  And based on my blogging track record, I should really just do the latter.  But, I live in an essentially foreign place now, and that's important.  I moved to Portland nine months ago, not knowing anyone or what I wanted to do with my life.  I know people now, but I'm still working on that last bit.  And when I start to get homesick, I think about two things: Cheeseman Park and Hindsight.

Cheeseman was a park about three blocks from my apartment.  It was perfect.  Green and rough around the edges.  There was really nothing like it in the spring.  And as beautiful and lush as Portland is, I've yet to find anything quite like it here.  I can't tell you how many time I rode my bike to Cheeseman, leaned back against my favorite tree, and let the inspiration of the place swirl up around me.  And since I've yet to find a place like that in my new city, I've also been without that truly inspired feeling.  And that brings me to the abandonment of Hindsight.

It's hard to keep up a pseudo-inspiration blog when you have nothing to pseudo-inspire with.  But just the same, every time I'd start to reminisce about Cheeseman, I'd also start to think about Hindsight and the time I'd spent on my overstuffed arm chair in my attic bedroom, next to the window that over looked the ancient trees and neighbors.  I would read about my blogging friends, type away about things that on the surface probably didn't matter a whole lot, but helped to create a sense of community and catharsis in my life.  I miss all of that.

So I'm working on it.  The sun has finally come out in this God forsaken town and the vitamin D has begun to work its magic.  There are bike pub crawls, afternoons napping at the bluffs, and brunch outside on patios!  If you have never lived in a primarily rainy climate, you have no idea just how influential sunlight and warm weather can be on... everything.

I feel like I have a real shot at this now.  I won't be making any grand promises- like a once a week posting or really awesome give aways.  And I certainly can't promise to continue blogging once the sun goes into hiding once again come August.  But I want to restructure this, make into something worth reading.  I love that bloggers are essentially "doing life" together.  We're watching each other stumble and triumph, all the while encouraging one other and reveling in the book reccomendations and pretty pictures.  I love all of this and I want to be a part of it again.

So here I am, coming back to you with my tail between my legs, hoping you'd be willing to give me one last shot.  I can't say if it'll be award winning content, but I can say with some certainty that it'll be messy, honest and probably even a little entertaining.  And I'd love to have you along.