I Used To Write...

It seems like the longer I go without blogging, the harder it is to get myself to post an update.  I think it's because the longer I wait, the more I feel like I need to come back with something wonderful and entertaining.  I also feel like I need to explain where I've been, what I've been up to, and what my excuses are for being absent from the blogosphere are this time.  That begins to feel like a lot of pressure, so I've gotten into the habit of just closing the Blogger tab on my browser and uploading more pictures of my cats on Instagram instead.

I'm a winner.

I guess no real excuse for my long hiatus.  Or, maybe I have a series of lame excuses.  Laziness.  Writer's block.  Business.  Lack of motivation.  Writer's block.  Fear that my life has become something that isn't as interesting to read about as it once was.  Unsure of what to even write about.  A growing addicting to communicating all thoughts in 140 characters or less and posting them to Twitter.  Also, writer's block. 

It's been a weird summer.  I finally got a rock band together.  We've played a couple of shows around town.  Both shows were completely stressful, poorly attended, and the most fun I've had all year. 

A rough video from one of the shows:

Yes, there were people there but they were hiding in a corner.  Sadly, I wasn't able to get a recording of the other show we did, where there was a one-armed guy named Lefty in the audience.

My life is still is a sitcom.  I don't think that will ever change, in case any of you were worried.

I also spent a lot of time taking care of other people's dogs this summer. 

I got way too connected to them.  I cried a little bit every time I had to tell one of them "goodbye." It made me wish I had a dog of my own, but I'm still at a point in my life where I'm afraid to sign a year-long lease.  I can't get a dog yet.

It's weird to see my Facebook feed fill up with pictures of weddings, ultrasounds, and babies.  There seems to be a whole wave of people my age who are suddenly grown-ups.  They post boring statuses about their jobs, take pictures of what they cooked their new families for dinner, and decline any event invitation that takes place past 8pm.  Miscellaneous acquaintances from college are now getting married to miscellaneous men.  Their last name changes and then when they pop up on my newsfeed, I don't even know who the heck they are. 

Then I see the Deepak Chopra quotes and the pictures of Jello shots posted by my friends from the artist's community and I wonder where exactly I fit in among the group of 336 people I call "friends" on Facebook. 

I'm going to be 25 in a little less than 2 months.  I can feel the existential crisis starting already.  

But I digress. 

I'm trying not to make this too long.  Really, the purpose of this post is just to get myself used to posting again and let you guys know that I'm not dead.  Now that this post is out of the way, I can hopefully follow it up with more interesting things...

Like the story behind this picture:

 Stay tuned... 

Florida: It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time

Hello hello, my amigos. And guess what?

I am already back in Portland. So much for my "grand adventure."

I don't really know what I was expecting in Florida. Probably sunshine and alligators and streets full of very tan, muscular men who walk around shirtless because of the heat. Or something along those lines.

It didn't take long for me to discover that my destination was a place that looks like Alabama.

I swear I could hear banjo music in the distance...

What was that noise overhead?  Oh, you know, just an alien spacecraft...

Okay, so I've never actually been to Alabama, but I assume that it looks ugly and dead like that.

Everything was flat and covered in a combination of scraggly little trees and grass that needed to be watered.  Billboards promoting fundamental religious beliefs lined the highway.  There was not a single hipster in sight - instead, it seemed that everyone was overweight and attempting to keep their unruly flab inside their tight clothes while drinking a large ice tea from the one Starbucks in town.

It should also be noted that I had to explain to a barista in that one Starbucks how to make me a cup of basic, brewed coffee.  I realize that I'm beginning to sound like a snob, but it was all a bit shocking.

Landing in a household that assumed I was a "liberal, green peace, tree-hugging hippy freak" simply because I asked where the recycling bin was didn't do much for my opinion of Central Florida.  It didn't help that I was obliviously drinking decaf every morning.  Anyway, it wasn't long until I wanted to go home.

In fact, all I could think of was Portland - my friends, my family, decent coffee, trash cans that say "LAND FILL" on them, the quirky night clubs, etc.  So when I got a text asking if I could house-sit in Southeast, I quickly replied "YES" and booked a return flight to the Pacific Northwest. 

It wasn't a worthless adventure - I feel as though I gained a lot of insight on the rest of the country as well as myself and how truly West Coast I am.  I also got to spend a day at the beach, try a lot of weird Latin food (I stayed in a bilingual household), and see Cirque Du Soleil for free (I happened to be in the right place at the right time and some random guy named Ted handed me a ticket he couldn't use...so, so awesome).  So that's all good stuff.

Sticking my feet in The Atlantic Ocean

Hanging out with some seagulls

A bit of beautiful scenery

Embracing the campy side of Orlando

Eating yucca con chicharon (or, those potato-type things with pork skins on top)

I also took advantage of the moderately abysmal scenery and shot a music video when no one was looking.  I only took one take because I wasn't entirely sure where I was and those big black birds were beginning to circle above me (vultures, perhaps?), but I think it turned out okay.

Anyway, it feels incredibly good to be back in the town that still honors the dream of the 90's.

Except I'm not really back in town - I'm staying at my parents' house in the country.  But that's a small detail. 

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(Note:  If you are reading this and you are from Central Florida or anywhere in The South, please do not take offensive to this post.  I do not have anything against you - I've just lived in Portland my entire life and found your Bible Belt shocking.  Take everything I say with a grain of organic kosher salt.)

Hey, I'm Still Alive!

First off, I would like to clarify that I am not dead.  It has been several days since my last post and people have been starting to ask if I've been abducted by hippies.  I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that no such abduction has taken place.  I've just been busy adjusting to my new surroundings and as a result I have neglected the blogosphere a little bit.  I know, I know, lamest and most cliche excuse ever.  Please know that if your blog has been lacking comments from me lately, it's not because I don't love you.  It's because I'm a lazy hipster.  I will fix that soon, don't you worry.

Anyway, on to my next order of business:  This is post #100. 

This blog has come a long way since it's first post on Tuesday, March 30th.  Originally created as a place to document a cross-country rock tour that was over before it began, this blog evolved into something I never imagined it would be.  And people other than my mother and my bandmate read it and leave me comments, which never ceases to blow my mind.  So thank you, my darling readers and blog friends, for helping to make this blog what it is.  This blog wouldn't be very much fun if nobody read it.

I was considering pulling a Strong Bad and videotaping myself saying the word "blog" 100 times in honor of my 100th post, but that's so 2004 and probably not very funny to anyone anymore.  Instead, I will do something that I would have done regardless of whether or not this was the 100th post - I will give you a photo tour of my new life!  Several people have asked about what my commune looks like, so I will shed some light on that at this time.

This is the building from the outside.











It used to be a retirement home and has a lot of character. 

The hallways feel rather institutional.  

But the kitchen feels like home.  

The view of the courtyard from the kitchen window is my favorite.

Sometimes, my room turns into indie rock central.  The only complaint I've ever gotten from my neighbors if that I'm not loud enough.  I think the exact words of the old hippy down the hall were "Hey, if you and your friend are gonna have a little rock show in your room, you better share it!"  That made me incredibly happy. 

Aaaand this is my bathroom.  I generally don't keep a stove top on the back of the toilet, that was just for a special occasion.  Probably best not to ask.  












There you have it - the artist's commune.  It's quite the place.  I've been gathering stories faster than I can tell them.  Maybe that's the real reason I haven't blogged in several days - I'm overloaded with material and don't know where to start, if that makes any sense.  

But I'm getting over that.  I've started with a picture of pasta cooking on the back of my toilet.  And you better stay tuned, because you can only believe it's going to get more interesting.  


That's all for now, folks.  Over and out. 

Sneak Peek

The following is a preview of the band pictures our friend Mike took for us yesterday:

Yeah. Mike has pro photography skillz.

Also, are we not too sexy for the car wash? These pictures finally make us look like a real band!

{Brief history lesson}
This is what band pictures have looked like up until this moment in time:

Do-it-yourself Myspace-inspired photography, anyone?

I am excited about the new pics. Original Sound Trash just got a little less trashy. :)