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Hate, Heart And Hope

I'm surprised by the fear in this head of mine.
I'm surprised by the strength in this heart of mine.

I try like hell to know one from the other though I can be mistaken about the head and the heart, the feelings from each part as well as the functions each serve. I know they all will someday cease.

I hope my head goes first

I can't imagine the horror of living, even if only for a moment, after my heart stops beating. I can't imagine the horror of knowing the end has truly come with a certainty that I had found myself powerless to prevent it. Death will find us all. I hope my head goes first.

I'm surprised by the hate in this head of mine.
I'm surprised by the joy in this heart of mine.

I hope my hate goes first.

I need to learn to accept my flaws but I choose to hate them instead. I need to learn to accept the flaws of others but I attempt to fix them instead. I hate myself if I try and fail but I hate myself more if I don't try at all. Failure will find us all. I hope my hate goes first.

I'm surprised by the doubt in this head of mine.
I'm surprised by the hope in this heart of mine.

My hope feels like a thirst.

I long for the honor of giving a woman my heart. I can't imagine the honor of giving a woman my name. My name is worthless and cumbersome. It is difficult as well, but it's all I have. In many ways it is all I am. Fate will find us all. My hope feels like a thirst.

I'm surprised by the angst in this head of mine.
I'm surprised by the love in this heart of mine.

My heart could easily burst.

I contain my angst just as I contain any negative emotion. Mostly concealed but rarely defeated. I contain my heart just as I contain the sky; a defeat I gladly accept, knowing the atmosphere provides room to soar. Love will find us all. My heart could easily burst.

My brain.
My heart.
My hate.
My hope.
I know they all will someday cease.

I hope my hate goes first.

The Future Isn't What It Used To Be

I'm really surprised by the new Rogue Wave CD. I never imagined them going... well... all you have to do is listen three seconds into this playlist and you'll know what direction they've gone. Still, the CD has some great stuff on it. It's just not what I expected.

This is the sort of playlist that happens when I'm in a bad mood and decide I don't want to be anymore. I pull out the fun, upbeat, happy sounding music... and before you know it, I'm my chipper self again.

Then again, yesterday was Pi Day. Anybody who isn't in a good mood on Pi day isn't enjoying the right kind of Pi!

I loves me some sweet potato pi.

The Golden Rule

"Why do you do favors for people" he asked. "What's your motivation? Are you trying to be some kind of martyr?"

Silence followed as I found myself at a complete loss for words. I understood the question and why he was asking it, but the answer seemed as obvious to me as explaining why I exhale after I inhale.

Do I want a good friend?
I need to be a good friend.
Breathe in, breathe out. That's how it works.

Do I want to be able to rely on my friends?
My friends need to be able to rely on me.
Breathe in, breathe out. That's how it works.

No. I don't want to be a martyr. I want to be a good friend.

I believe in the golden rule.
I believe in treating others as I would have them treat me.

The problem with using the golden rule as a personal value system is the implied role of 'others'. I can only control how I treat others. I can't control how others treat me. When others take my good deeds for granted, I get taken for granted. I get used. And it sucks.

I've gotten myself into a cycle that consists of doing favors for people who, even if unintentionally, take advantage of my generosity.

I realize that only I can break this cycle, but, in the future, how do I decide who is worthy of a favor?

Here's the answer, and it will be the same answer every time: I am worthy of the favors I do for others. That's right. *I* am worthy. That is not a statement of vanity. Instead, it is a recognition of the very essence of the golden rule: I do unto my friends as I would have them do unto me. I would have my friends do favors for me because I will do favors for them. Without question. Without guilt. It's what a good friend does.

I believe in treating others the way I would like to be treated, so how can I say no to a friend who asks a favor? Doing so would make me a hypocrite because I wouldn't be living by my own value system. I can't control whether or not someone appreciates the effort I put into being a friend, but when a friendship devolves into a one sided stream of favor after favor... if the number of times I spend with a friend becomes a near reflection of the number of favors I've done for that friend... Clearly, the friendship is lost.

It's a cycle and I'm at the center of it. What should I do differently next time?

Should I betray my own values and turn down a friend who asks one too many favors without doing enough in return? Should I slowly walk away from the friendship if I see the pattern begin? Or should I allow myself to be taken for granted, possibly even used, until the friendship reaches a breaking point and crashes?

I have more questions than answers, but my days of being the cat sitter, again, have come to a close again. Only time will tell if I make a similar mistake again. The truth is, I probably will, in one way or another... because if I consider someone to be a friend and that friend asks a favor... what kind of friend would I be if I said no? And if the friend asks another favor...

Hopefully, in the future I can at least learn to navigate these situations without being rude. In this latest instance, I was a damn good friend, but in the end, I let the frustrations of feeling taken advantage of cloud my judgement and I was rude. I'd known for months I should have made a silent exit, so how did me being rude improve the situation at all? It didn't. That is where I let myself down.

And so it goes.

Oh Baby

I was walking across the Hawthorne Bridge last summer and saw an abandoned doll that had been thrown over the side of the bridge. It was lying face-down on a nearby rooftop. The doll was missing an arm and missing a leg. I have to say, it was a very creepy sight, and yet, I found it compelling. I couldn't help but stare.

OK, the truth is, I stared more at the photos I took of it. When I saw it on the rooftop, it was too small for me to see just how creepy the doll was.

I was surprised to find that it was still on the roof this past friday evening when I took a stroll over to the Lucky Lab. Since I'd bought a better zoom lens this past year, I decided to snap a few more photos.

The baby photos are definitely creepy, but I enjoy them nonetheless.

Here's the entire set of my weekend's worth of photos. The baby pics are in the middle. Click for a larger view.

It was nice to see the cherry blossoms blooming again... before the rain arrived... again.

The Texan's Deal

I'm going to tell you a story. Actually, I'm going to tell you a story about telling a story. To further confuse matters, I'll let you know up front that all of what follows is true except for one detail that is a lie. The lie is born of good intentions but it's a lie nonetheless.

Excluding the lie, this story of telling a story is absolutely true and I'll tell it all as it happened.

Still with me? OK then. Let's go back to the summer break before my senior year of college. I was traveling abroad with my then-roommate, Jeff. We were in Lima, Peru, waiting to pay a tax because we'd supposedly stepped outside of the airport during our layover between flights.

The tax was bogus and we weren't going to pay it.

I'm sure things have changed since then, but, in the old Lima airport there was a common scam where a crowd would gather around foreigners exiting an airplane to trick them into walking outside. There was no tax for changing planes, but if you left the airport during a layover there was a twenty dollar airport re-entry tax. Scammers would trick foreigners into stepping outside and then split the tax with immigration officers who most likely pocketed the rest.

There were two other Americans on our flight into Lima. One was a backpacker who didn't look much older than myself… early 20s at best… and the other was an older Texan. I don't know for a fact he was from Texas, but the man had a cowboy hat and a cowboy accent. That was Texan enough for me.

The four of us hadn't been seated very far apart on the plane, which meant we weren't far apart as we made our way into the airport. We were immediately swept up in a crowd that moved quickly until one of us stepped outside through a large opening that looked as if it led to a hallway. We thought we were headed for baggage claim, but instead, the crowd instantly disbursed and we four Americans were left standing outside of the airport.

Only one of us actually stepped outside, but that was enough to bring over a security guard who escorted all four of us to a podium labeled "immigracion" where an officer waited to be paid a tax that may or may not have existed. Men from the crowd who'd scammed us were mulling around, pretending to not be waiting for their cut.

Jeff and I had an eight hour layover. As far as I was concerned we had nothing but time, and since I spoke Spanish fluently I was more than happy to fight this tax. The man from Texas was ahead of us, waiting for the backpacker who tried in vain to explain that he was late for his connecting flight. The immigration officer just kept pointing to the exit and repeating the words "Re-Enter Tax. Twenty dollar." The backpacker pleaded. He said he was broke and on his way home, but he said this in English which did no good. Jeff and I hadn't stepped out of the airport and I was intending to fight this bogus tax. Twenty bucks is a lot of money to a poor college student. I started to reconsider my position when I spotted another pair of officers approaching. The backpacker started to panic.

And that's when it happened.

This was many years ago, so clearly I am paraphrasing here, but it's one of those moments I remember as if it were yesterday. Soon, you'll understand why.

The Texan stepped forward, putting himself between the immigration podium and the backpacker. He placed his hand on the backpacker's shoulder and said "I owe somebody a favor kid so I'll pay your tax, but you and me, we're gonna make a deal first. Someday, you'll see somebody you don't know in a really bad spot and you'll repay me by helping that person out instead. When the time comes, don't even blink. Just step up and do it. The bigger a thing you do to help somebody out, the better. Do we have a deal?"

At this point, the approaching immigration officers pulled Jeff and I aside. I guess they'd seen that the other two foreigners had money, so, they focussed their attention on us.

In Spanish, I explained to the officers that my friend and I hadn't stepped out of the airport. I pointed to the scammers who were circling around waiting for their cut of the tax money and said that I was more than willing to stick around to fight it. I told them my friend and I aren't flying out of Lima for hours and that we had nothing but time.

I asked the officers if they wanted to hear a story. Who doesn't enjoy a good story?

The officers looked at each other, baffled, so I explained it again (in Spanish, of course). "Seriously, we're not in a hurry at all. We've got more time than we know what to do with and we didn't step outside that entryway. I'm a good story teller and I bet I can make you laugh. Would you like to hear a story?"

I don't know why the officers agreed to let me tell them a story, but they did, and so... I did.

I told this story (obviously it's in English here, but it's even better when told in Spanish). I ended up entertaining all three immigration officers as well as the crowd of scammers, and best of all, Jeff and I didn't have to pay the tax.

By this point, both the Texan and the backpacker were long gone. Did the backpacker ever repay the Texan's favor once he got back to the U.S.? Who could possibly know. But, the thing is... even though that favor wasn't done for me, I've repaid it several times. Each time, I told this story and made a similar deal with the person I was helping. I'd like to think that those people have done favors to repay me. I have no way of knowing if they did, but I can hope. Right? And I can even hope it keeps going forward, right? Hey, I know that's a corny thought but it's my corny thought and I like it.

Now, let's back up a bit. The very first thing I said about this story is that a chunk of it is a lie.

The backpacker didn't exist. That was the lie.

I suppose the Texan was a lie too. He was just someone I happened to spot in the airport that day. He wasn't even on our flight. I just happened to see him in the airport and I wondered if he got scammed too. Everything else about the scammers, immigration officers and talking my way out of paying a bogus tax was completely true.

I tell two versions of this story, depending on the circumstance.

If I want a laugh, I'll tell the story as it really happened: Jeff and I were changing planes in Lima and we were tricked into walking out of the airport by scammers. We had a really long layover, which meant we had plenty of time to kill. So, I argued our way out of paying the bogus tax by amusing the immigration officers (as well as the scammers).

On the other hand, if I'm doing a favor for someone who doesn't really know me and he or she asks why I'm being so kind, I tell the story as I've told it here, complete with the part about the backpacker who didn't exist and Texan I've taken completely out of context. I do this because I'm a corny mother fucker.

There. I said it. I'm corny.

I believe in things like putting a little goodness out there in hopes others will pay it forward, and I've learned that people who don't know me well won't accept a favor unless I have an entertaining story to explain why I'd do such a thing.

Note that, in my story, I didn't say anybody did me a favor. I just said that I saw someone do a selfless favor and that inspired me to do the same. It's all a lie, but I love it because it leads to a cycle where people pay favors forward for complete strangers and they feel good about doing so because they think it's part of a bigger cycle. Hopefully.

Maybe it happens and maybe it doesn't. I don't know. All I know is that I did my part.

I'm not telling you any of this because I'm looking for credit or brownie points. I shared this story and the thoughts that go with it because I've recently become curious about the reasons for my own actions. The truth is, I don't know why I do some of the things I do. In the end, I'm not sure it really matters, but I'm curious all the same. Somehow, typing it out helps me think it through.

Even if I don't learn anything about myself or my motives, I at least end up sharing a good story, right? That's good enough for me. Good enough for tonight, anyway.

Feel free to take my story and spin it to make it your own. Pick a moment from your past and create your own Texan. Do a favor or two and use your own story to explain why you put a little good out there. Who knows... maybe somebody will pay your favor forward. Maybe you'll be the story someone else tells.

Entrance

Photos from another random walk around town. This time, I headed down to the river. I became particularly fascinated with closeup shots of the Steel Bridge, as you'll see in the thumbnails below. First, a few of my favorites.

Click on a thumbnail for a larger view. Use your arrow keys to move forward or back.

The Cat Sitter

This is one I'd meant to write for a long time after I heard David Wilcox explain on a sunny spring afternoon how we live our lives in the wrong direction. His was a playful little thought about how we should start with the ending to get it out of the way. And, so, that's where I'll begin.

Here's the ending: I was the cat sitter.

The problem with this ending is that, at the time, it was also a beginning. This is a circular story, but the only one going around and around is me, and I don't blame anyone but myself for that. Some lessons need to be learned more than once.

You've read the ending. Now, let's get to the beginning.

We'll call her Linda. She was cute. Blond and curvy with curious eyes and a smile wider than one would expect from a stranger, though we weren't to be strangers for long.

Linda was going to be traveling for about a week. She needed someone to drop by her apartment each day while she was gone to feed her cats and scoop their litter.

She placed an ad on craigslist. I replied. A few days later, we were having lunch. The process of her getting to know me well enough to entrust me with her cats and apartment turned into both of us getting to know a new friend.

Each day while she was out of town, I would walk a mile from my home to hers. I'd feed her cats and play with them a bit so they wouldn't be too lonely, and then I'd walk home.

When she returned to Portland we met for dinner. A few days later, we went to see a movie. And then another dinner. There was an undeniable tension between us, though I wasn't sure of its cause. We talked. We laughed. We flirted.

I kissed her.

We did a bit more than kiss, truth be told, but after a few weeks, she announced that dating wasn't going to work. We were too different, wanting different things. There was no crash and burn. This had been more a case of trial and error. No harm, no foul.

Shortly after, she left town again a few days. That's where this story reaches its ending. I was the cat sitter.

The next time I arrived at her apartment to take care of her cats, I found a note. There was a CD in her stereo. The note said to listen to track number fourteen. It was a song called "Start With The Ending" by David Wilcox.

The secret of a happy marriage,
maybe you should write this down
If you want to keep a love together,
the best way is to end it now
Because when you both know its over,
suddenly the truth comes out
You can talk about your secret passion,
you can talk about your restless doubt
When there's no pretending,
then the truth is safe to say,
Start with the ending,
get it out of the way
Now there's no defending,
because no one has to win
Start with the ending,
its the best way to begin.

And I'm so glad we did

Sometimes

I spotted this one on the side of the 10th Ave Fitness whatever it's called downtown that used to be the YMCA. Click it for a larger view.

I wonder. Does it say "And Sometimes I Still Love You?" Or, is the AND part someone's initials, as in "A.N.D., Sometimes I Love You"? Hhmhmmm...

Street Scene

Another recent photo walk, this time only through The Pearl. My photos seem to be getting more abstract. I might be liking that fact. Take these three, for example. They're shots of the street, looking straight down.

Here's the entire batch of photos from Saturday. Click a thumbnail to zoom in to a larger version.

A Random Post From The Archives:

The New Couple

Looking out the windows in my new loft, I can see the space I used to call home in the building across the street.

I see boxes.
And a man.
And a woman.
And I wonder.

Will they race each other down the long hall that leads to their front door?
Will they notice the faint smell of pastries being made in the bakery below?
Will they hang their coats on the rack I installed?
Will they feel at home in the home that was once mine?

Hey mister, that's not where the bed goes. We had ours over there. And the table goes in the middle to give you a view of it all. Of each other. Of your home. And of the city should your eyes choose to roam.

Will you watch people in the salon across the street?
Will you watch the streetcar roll by?
Will you two make a new life?
Will you someday call her your wife?

I lived there before you.
I did these things too.
I thought that once too.
But I moved out, and now I see you.

Hey lady, where did you come from? And what's in those boxes? Are they filled with furnishings from two homes becoming one?

Hey lady, is he the one?

Will he care for you when you're ill?
Will he hold you when you're scared?
Will he write sweet stories about you when you're not there?
Will his cats wait for you by the door?

A bit of advice from a guy who knows.

Will your dishwasher leak?
Will your washer overflow?
Will your neighbor's stereo thump bass through the far wall?
Will your boxes be filled again in ten months' time?

These things happened to me, and no damage was done - except for the part where two homes become one. She and I are still friends though one home is now two. I guess what I'm saying is, it could happen to you.

Hey, why'd you close your blinds?

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