Portland Stories

Everyday's a holiday with you, Portlandia. You bring joy just by being you. This morning, for example, I went downtown and there was the Portland Marathon taking place. It is such an uplifting event, and it inspired me to train for it next year. I may as well; I don't have a lot else to do.

I can't even get my mother to call me. In the play, 'ART,' Yvan can at least get his mother to call him. How come as soon as people get to know me they don't want to spend any time with me? I must be really annoying. i'm not sure there is a lot I can do about that.

And the show goes on

A year and a half after POA let me go, I am still attending their events and providing social media for the company. Last weekend soured me though. The good thing that came out of it, two things: meeting Sasha Roiz, the handsome captain from Grimm, and spending the evening with Jeff and watching the game.

This weekend I am going back to ART. We'll see how it unfolds. Speriamo bene.

How fucking tragic

 I am looking at free stuff on craigslist. I am 53 years old. I have no savings, no house, no furniture, no partner, and no job. I am basically one of life's losers. Wow. I never thought this would happen to me.

Instead of being so horrified about my state, I could just think of myself as part of the downward shift, and therefore I will trend up when the economy trends up.

The D Girls

Daisy and Daria were much alike,had they chosen to admit it, but neither did. If you suffered a misfortune or downfall, they both would step up to offer help, voice concern. They loved animals, fine fabrics, and physical activity, though not one specific sport. It made sense, since they were sisters, that they would share characteristics. Even when Daisy and Daria reached middle age, though one had dark hair and the other blonde, though Daria was 5'9 and Daisy 5'5, people asked them if they were twins. As younger women they would smile, say no, and say isn't it odd you would ask that. Someone else asked me that just the other day.

Now that she is older, Daisy will sometimes simply answer yes, to Daria's tight-lipped smile. We are just sisters, not twins, she corrects in her don't-mind-my-whimsical-sister voice. She used to be fun.

3 months since my last post?$#! WTF!

I guess I have been busy or happy. Blogging inactivity comes from happiness, just one more reason to avoid the latter. Well, lots of things have happened in the intervening months, not a new job though, and that is really the main thing.  Month over month I go deeper into debt and look for creative ways to make ends meet until the next close call. I have got to get a job that pays a living wage!!!

My bad boyfriend

I have a kind of boyfriend. I don't know if he is incapable of being faithful or if he is just uninterested in me. Not completely uninterested; he does still have sex with me. He took my compost with him this morning, and that was nice. I just saw that he had reposted his personal ad: Vocabulary Lesson. Please. Yes sir. Thank you.

I am going to tease him with it. I will tell him that I want please, thank you, and sir to constitute a bigger part of my conversations with him. I have to be careful with my little game, though, because I do not want to get too drawn in emotionally that I can't detach when I need to. This is a Kieran kind of deal. I am being unhealthy, almost reveling in it by smoking cigarettes, avoiding exercise, drinking, not eating well.

More later.

L'ospitalita` all'italiana all'Opera.

This is a pleasant aspect of PDX Opera culture. Our GD is of Italian descent and really embraces the hospitable nature that is often attributed to central and southern Italians. As a result, we have a lot of functions that involve food and drink; or maybe it's just that we incorporate food and drink into so many functions.

I have mixed feelings about the commestibles at company events. I enjoy consuming them, but I dislike preparing and serving them. Guess who frequently prepares and serves at  opera  events?

How to remedy the role I play in an upwardly direction . . . I know the job I want, but I am not doing anything in a way that would recommend me for the position.

Back to the opera's hospitality. I really do attribute this to Cristo. He can be curt and dismissive, but he is also warm, generous, and welcoming. He likes to mingle with his employees at company parties. He espresses himself easily and humorously. When I first met him, he reminded me of Jon Stewart: the nose, the accent, the mannerisms. I really wanted to laugh, but I had the common sense not to.

He questioned my interest in the position I sought. I don't think I understood that "coordinator" basically meant secretary or assistant. Add to that my desperation to get a job with health insurance and a living wage, and the Artist Coordinator job looked like an oasis in the poverty desert.

Now that it is almost 2 years, I have got to change my position. I have to move up or move out. I just am not sure exactly how to go about it with the most chance of success. If I wait too long, the fact that I have a Ph.D. will mean very little. I could put together a plan for Peter. Propose to bring in 10 new camerata members in the first month. Speak to a bunch of organizations, write a bunch of grant applications,

Murder at the opera

I don't know much in real life about crime, criminal procedure, or slang. I read detective novels and watch police shows on TV, so I can get along in expressing the ideas of a crime scene. How about a series of opera novels: Murder at the Opera, Romance at the Opera, BDSM at the Opera, Larceny at the Opera, Flagrant Disregard for Recycling at the Opera, The Bicycle Brigade at the Opera, Pimpin' My PR Coverage at the Opera; Animals at the Opera, The Hierarchy of Homo- and Heterosexuals at the Opera, L'ospitalita` all'italiana all'Opera.

I have written ten possible works. I shall choose a title and construct a work based upon it.

A bit of real life

Right around my 13th birthday, my parents decided to separate. My grandmother came for her summer visit, bringing with her my cousin Marilyn who was the wild child of her generation for my mother's large, extended family. This was the era of free love, drugs, and rock n roll for middle-class, intellectual Montanans, and that is who my parents were.

What a memorable, indelible summer for me, so many firsts: smoked pot, snuck out through my bedroom window, shaved my legs, wore a bra, and got felt up by my dad. That last item in the list is why I am writing this. At 45 I am unmarried, with no children, and no partner. What the hell is the matter with me? It freaks me out and it kind of saddens me. I wonder if my feelings of betrayal from my dad play a part in how I feel about men. If he had been a nice dad before he cupped my breasts, I might not have felt so afraid, but I had always been afraid of him. Now I was afraid he might hit me, but also afraid he might want to touch me again.

Don't We All Have to Pitch In and Do A Little Bit Extra?

I am sorry, Jill. I misunderstood. I thought I was just supposed to clean the kitchen; I did not understand that I was supposed to come in and clean up after you all. I guess we all end up doing more than we thought we were supposed to ;]

Do you suppose that Jimmy and Michael understand that? Maybe we should tell them?

Coming back from the abyss

I started to do something really stupid today, and a friend pulled me gently back from the edge. She cold have said have you lost your marbles? Isn't it enough that you are going to lose your job? Instead she was smooth and mild. I used honey and not vinegar.

Recomposition

Composing, entering data, making copies, printing out contracts, spreadsheets, maintaining database, answering phones, making plane reservations, making hotel reservations, transportation reservations, dinner reservations, bike and car reservations.

Someone else could print out contracts, make copies, answer the phone, enter data

I could do a lot of what I do from home.

depression

Lord, I have had some serious depression in the last week. Sometimes I can't stop crying at work. What a demoralizing job. It's so sad; I am just withdrawing more and more. I am losing the few friends I did have. I don't know how long I will last there, and then what will I do? Sigh.

I have to find something more enriching and challenging and lucrative  than this.

I wonder if Cinderella ever got depressed. God knows she had reason: mean stepsisters and mother, ineffectual father, rags to wear, hard work to do, inadequate nutrition, emotional and physical abuse. I would not have lasted long as the real Cinderella. I wonder why I am depressed. I have a lot to be happy about. I am out of car and insurance debt. I have a job, a dog, a bike, and an apt.

It is just that I expected so much more of myself. I have an education, experience, interest. Why am I stuck where I am? Have I lost too many brain cells, too many looks? It throws up to be depressed. The worst is that then I despise myself for being so weak as to be depressed. What is wrong with me? Why can't I be upbeat like Bill Clinton and Barack Obama?

Rachel Weisz, etc.,

I have decided, now that I know her, that Emma should be Rachel Weisz. They both have dark, shoulder length hair, are pretty, and smart. The relationship with Rachel feels like a missed opportunity. I really like her, but the relationship has a couple of impediments. Sweet, sweet, sweet, but powerless to help me in any way. Rachel Weisz is better a better fit in that she is a good age for Al. Casting is coming along.

Good retort to a monosyllabic, blasphemous outburst: "Oh, how I wish words could slip off my tongue so easily!"

Housework

Nobody who knows me would say I am lazy. I am always busy. I never just sit and relax because I am writing, reading, walking, working, shopping, talking, paying, feeding, and the like. Nobody who knows me thinks I am very tidy, and they are right. Housework feels like a waste of time to me, and it wouldn't have to if I would practice what I preach. When I studied, I used to set a timer for 50 minutes so that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. I haven't been doing that for other things. I should set the timer for housework, writing, reading, and lots of other tasks.

I just don't like housework. It makes me wrinkle my brow, puts bruises on my legs, dries out my hands, and makes me unhappy.

Another Start

A new approach to the job: don't be too friendly, available, visible. Keep a low profile, speak in a low voice, keep the chatter to a minimum, leave at the first opportunity. Dress soberly in neutral, no-nonsense colors.


I am a good starter. The hard part is keeping it going. I suppose the most interesting part is the beginning, and it is the instant gratification of the endeavor. All the rest is work. Ho hum. The problem is that one cannot start forever. After a while, it gets too late to start and one needs to consider forward progress or at least maintenance, which requires metaphorical elbow grease and literal patience.

All About the Moods

Not such a great day today, Tuesday, September 8, 2009. Sometimes I feel as if I am losing all my ambition, or most of it. I have spurts of it, but it doesn't last long. I need a break. I feel as if I have made efforts; clearly it is time to make more.

I bought a table today, yeah! Something to put my computer on.

Ranting

Renée chides me for not giving Loren Meeker a MIO bag. Does Renée pay for those? Why doesn't she order them then? If they are in our budget, why is it Renée's business? Are we not trying to cut costs? I am trying to save my dept. money, and we have all made cuts. We are paying for all bicycles this production; don't we have to make adjustments somewhere? Do we not all have to bear the burden?

Volunteer Party

8/30/09 I like going to parties where I have duties; they keep me on the straight and narrow. We had a part like that today at Nostrana, a volunteer party. I took pictures and talked to people: volunteers, colleagues, and miscellaneous. I had a pretty good time, but I am aware that I am on duty. Some people are so grim, like Laura. She probably means well, but she is very serious.

Rachel is fun; Bobal is smitten; Jude is entertaining; Patty is good at her job. It turned out to be a pretty day. Minnie sang a forgettable song and then Dinah's aria from T in T. Gael sang Largo al factotum and Grenada. Babydoll stayed in the truck.

Mother gave me good advice re: the receptions. Send a note to Jada. Say we need a meeting, or tell her I want to do food. As it turns out, no more food for Jada. The English girl is taking over and has Cristine Ebersole working with her.