A is for All the Days I Thought of You

I'm thinking of Athens. I never would have expected, prior to leaving AZ last August, to find myself looking back so fondly on my new home. But so it has been since I arrived in PDX. The psycho-analysts out there will quickly suggest that my appreciation for Athens is only so acute because of the newness and anxiety that the move to a new(er) town has brought on. I won't argue them much on the point, not because I think they're right (I do, but only partially), but because, at the end of the day, I don't really care why Athens has become so dear. However it got there, there it now resides, and I care only to appreciate that blessing; sing a few praises to the Author; and listen to the songs that remind of that fine Southern town.

I stole these pictures from a fellow intern. It's quite fortunate that others are adept at taking pictures, because I rarely think to do it.

Here's my little cohort of "financial management" fellows at the Oregon State Capitol. Financial management deserves quotes because I have no right in designating myself someone who understands the concept. Social sciences, human services, assorted pop culture trivia -- sure. But financial management? Not so much. Nevertheless, Metro, my employer, thought it prudent to hire me for the summer, so a "fellow" I have become.

Here is a more direct picture of the golden man looming behind us in the previous picture. I don't know if he has a legitimate name; we called him "Oregon Man". I do know that he weighs a lot -- it took a few days, and an intricate pulley system (it was the 1930s) to hoist him atop the capitol building. He's adorned with new gold leafing every 15 years or so. He carries an axe in one hand and a wagon cover in the other, symbolizing Oregon's reliance on natural resources and pioneer roots, respectively. His body faces north for some reason unbeknownst to our guide, but his face looks out to the west, once again as a bit of tribute to Oregon's pioneering ways. He's also very shiny.

This is Willamette University. It's just to the south of the capitol building. It's nice and green, but then what isn't in this state? Those are the "star trees" in the center of the picture. See below for further explanation.

When you're in the middle of them, you look up to find a reasonably-decent figure of a star overhead. At Christmas time, they put up lights and it's all festive-like. On the summer solstice, they sacrifice a goat and then run like lemmings to the shores of the Willamette River, where they set it ablaze with a mixture of biodiesel and corn starch. That doesn't even make sense. Absurdist humor for you...

The Buildings Are Tall in This Part of the City

Waiting for the day to begin -- a meeting with one of the original pursuers of the Portland light rail system. Perhaps he will say something to instill in me the hope that Phoenix's own version of the thing will prove as successful as the one here in Portland.

My internet is working very slow. Now, it's being provided for free by the City of Portland, so I can't complain too much. I just typed out a snarky sentence about being American and therefore having a natural inclination to complain, but the fear of reprisal, immediate or future, kept me from leaving it here for your consumption. Sorry -- it's a trust issue, I know.

Orientation has begun this week for my internship program, and it has been rather delightful. It's not 8:00 - 5:00, and it's not sitting in front of a computer, so that alone has won it favor in my eyes. Add to that the chance to meet friendly co-interns, take trips to Salem (today), and trade in slacks for jeans make this a week to savor. Truly, though, the week has been very good so far. I am enjoying the chance to talk to other people my age about our shared experiences. I don't think it's unfair to want, or to appreciate, being around people in similar situations as yourself. It's supportive, and in a new town and a new job and the like, such support is quite welcomed.

And, should you find yourself forced to buy a cup of coffee from Starbucks, perhaps because it was the only shop you could see in an unfamiliar part of a new city, go with the Serena Organic. It's not great, but there weren't any coffee grounds at the bottom of the cup either (unlike my last experience with this chain). Drinking Starbucks in this city should be blasphemy, and I should thus be burned at the stake. It was a move of desperation; that is my only defense.

The Terminator

I am sitting at McMenamin's, in particular their "Blue Moon" location, on NW 21st and Glisan. I am drinking a fine beer called the Terminator Stout, and it is at times like these that I realize what a fine life God has given us. Beer and wireless internet -- proof of the Trinity.

I am inclined to begin exploring, once more, the wonder that is Ms. Jane Austen. Finished Emma and, after only a little convincing of myself, decided that it is my favorite of the famous three novels she penned. But as I've well exhausted your capacity for Regency-era authoresses, I'll go down another path this evening.

It has been suggested that I talk a little of my job, and, though it's Friday night and not at all a time for thinking of work, I'm willing to do just that. I work for Metro Regional Government -- the latter two words in that phrase being the most important. Metro is an amazingly unique regional government entity. Typically, you have the state, then the county, and the the local government. Here, we have a "regional" government, which manages a number of affairs that, for one reason or another, didn't seem fitting for the local municipalities to take on. Thus, it's centered around regional planning -- parks, natural spaces, the Oregon zoo, and perhaps a few other areas random areas (for example, Metro apparently owns a golf course...God only knows why.)

In my little corner of the Metro world -- which, if I have my way, will soon turn into more of an burgeoning empire -- I'm working on an asset management / renewal and replacement program. Isn't jargon grand? It's like this: Metro has a bunch of crap; that crap is valuable; we don't always do a great job of keeping track of the crap; at some point, that crap will break. So, my job is to aid in the development of a system that can effectively account and plan for the future needs regarding of all the crap (technically, we refer to that crap as "assets", but what do you care?). Sound exciting? Well, it's a good thing I don't listen to you, because I like it just fine. I'm learning a ton of stuff about accounting and budgeting, although, with no background whatsoever in those areas, such bountiful learning is more a function of ignorance than catalytic opportunity. What you should be envious of is the fact that, at least twice a week, I've been spending my morning touring some beautiful Oregon park (or, on one particularly lucky day, the Oregon Zoo. Yeah, my boss took me there and said, "Okay, have fun." I did.) Should you ever make it to this fine region of the country, let me suggest Oxbow Regional Park -- like an Amazon rain forest, minus the Amazon.

Well, my pint is nigh empty, and that means we must end this discussion. Will he get another pint or not? Only time, and the bartender, will know.

Here are a few pictures I pilfered from someone else's site. Kind of robbed of the splendor of the place in person, but it's all I can give you for now: (many thanks to The Grich for these fine pics: http://thegrich.blogspot.com/2007/05/oxbow-regional-park.html)

I took the 405.

It is a grey Saturday morning in Portland. I wish the city didn't feel so forced to live up to all her clichés. On the upside, it makes the mood all the more right for coffee and writing and slow, beautifully sad music.

The 405, by the way, runs through the center of Portland, so when he sings, "I took the 405 and drove a stake down into your center...," I feel as though I can somehow relate. But really, between you and me, it's the next line he sings that I think of most; "You keep twisting the truth [that keeps me thrown askew.]" You can't divine punctuation just from listening to the song. Did he mean to put a period after "truth"? If not, was it the "truth" that had been keeping him thrown askew? That seems odd, but then I'm not an artist either. Whatever the case, it seems that "truth", twisted or not, will keep on slipping through these clouds above, and while that may, indeed, keep me thrown askew, or at the very least a bit dizzy, I am happy that it sneaks through at all.

I don't have any new pictures of Portland, though I'm working on it. There are so many things that you need to see here. The view from the roof of the building I work in, spanning the rises and falls of the Portland skyline. The view from the roof of my own temporary dwelling, which on clear days lets you gaze out onto Mt. St. Helen's, Mt. Adams, Mt. Hood and time immemorial. This place feels so very three-dimensional. In Phoenix, the horizon is so long, the earth so often flat, that sometimes you're apt to forget about its depth (which, of course, it has much). But here you cannot avoid it; the trees cut and slice into the hillsides, up, down, and all around you. The proper sort of setting for a summer adventure, I suppose.

A pair of pictures for you: the other half of the room, and more evidence of the City of Roses.

And if we blossom--as high as Northwestern trees

First of all, you should really listen to The Jealous Sound's Kill Them with Kindness. I say these things for your benefit, you know. So don't stand still.

Well, Portland is here. This is Portland. This is the Old Pharmacy Cafe, open 24 hours a day and willing to put my peppermint tea into a small, personal-sized teapot. This is walking home from Trader Joe's to the strangest, empty apartment with the beautiful views. I've got to learn to stop praying from the hip. "Adventure" is what you want; adventure is what you will get. Less than 24 hours before my plane left Phoenix, I was without a place to stay. That was worked out, just like everything else has been -- unexpectedly, uncomfortably, but with an unavoidable sense that this is exactly how it should be. The song goes like this: "She said--to me--, 'Darling--, well please don't be so naïve." Perhaps it is naïve to think that things would work out smoothly, romantically. But there are moments, you know, when all you want is for things to go exactly as you'd hoped. Because what you'd came up with in your mind was sounding pretty damn good. Instead, you keep on waking to misty mornings.

But for now, I'll take it. Because I have nowhere else to go. I've been everywhere else, and there's nothing there. So here we stay. Here is the only place.

Here's pictures involving, in this order, flowers, Portland, the view, the room, and flowers: