New Voices

(Written 5/26/10)

It is 9:00 and it is just getting dark out. If you stop for a moment when walking up our staircase and look out the window, you can see a perfect frame of the sky as everything is setting. Bright, pink streaks and sometimes a stripe of yellow. The dark blue paint of our neighbor’s house fading a bit, the trees turning black. There are almost always clouds.

One of my favorite things about Portland: even when it’s raining, the night comes at the same time.

I’m not one for doing “cool spontaneous things” after work. But thanks to the effortless motivation of a housemate and an easy MAX ride, I ate a falafel sandwich and headed to the reading of Write Around Portland’s spring anthology. (An agency that provides facilitated workshops to different communities throughout the city.) The event was held at a large Methodist Church in Southwest, and we wrongly entered through the front door and were led down long classroom hallways by peppy volunteers who claimed the directional signs to be misleading. They brought us to the auditorium, where cups of apple juice were being sold at a long fold out table toward the back. Dozens of people proceeded to read the poems and stories that they’d crafted throughout the workshop season. Thirteen year old girls covered their faces with the papers they read from, and seventy five year old women stood a bit too far away from the microphone. Susie told us about her talented teddy bear who could speak 18 languages and run a triathlon, and Wendy reminisced about the man she loved who never fulfilled his promise of returning to her. Bob confessed that nine years after his mother’s death, he still misses her. And throughout all of it, the tragic stories, awkward moments, memorable occurrences while riding the bus, I never felt sad. I don’t think anyone did. It proved to me what an important tool writing is. That no matter how painful life can be, it’s worth putting down on paper. To confront it, or to honor it. Or maybe a little bit of both.

Before catching the bus.

It is Friday morning at 10:09 or so and I am not working. It is warm out today, and I think everyone in Portland is crossing their fingers that Spring will be here consistantly now, that there will be a need for sunglasses.

I took the day off because soon I will be going to Seattle to smooze at a JVC benefit dinner and wear a bright shirt to identify my purpose. I'm excited about this, for the long car ride, the hills of the city, the chance to hang out with people I don't see very often. Jeremy made me a fried egg when I woke up and we sat at the kitchen table talking about nothing inparticular. It was a good day for an adventure, he said, but he had a strong desire to do nothing at all.

Work has been fine lately. People are very sick and I still don't have any answer for them. I went to a training in the Admin building yesterday on professional boundaries and was pleasantly surprised to see candy at the middle of each table when I arrived. There I was, with most of the Henry front desk staff, a few of my coworkers, and people from other CCC agencies that I'd never seen. We all picked a photograph from the pile and talked about how the shot represented our role. We don't get to do things like that often--sit in a quiet basement, refill water glasses, talk about what it means to be in this profession and keep yourself and your clients safe. I enjoyed it.