BLOG YA LATER

Hello, out there. My darling roommate (domestic partner) just started a blog, and she has convinced me to do the same. Hmm, I like to ponder and rant about things—why not? Everybody else is doing it, right? And I do love to express myself through the written word. In person, I’m a little slow on the uptake. I think I’m rather a strange one, a little awkward—my favorite description so far (thank you, copyeditor friend) is “charmingly quirky.” Yes, that’s pretty much me; even my mom concurs. So when I’m talking to people (as opposed to writing them), I tend to blush and can’t think of the right words to say. You have no idea how much it sucks to be a blusher; god, I hate that. It’s one of the main things holding me back from my ultimate dream: to be the next Sarah Silverman. Occasionally, though (and I love when this happens), I am on my game. I can be witty, sassy, and a right lovable smart-ass. That me is so great! Why can’t I be like her all the time? Ah well, what are you gonna do. I must be doing something right, because I have a gaggle of great friends and acquaintances, more-than-decent connections, interested parties, proud parents, an adoring niece, and the boyfriend. Yeesh, just saying the word induces this strange emotion that's a cross between trepidation and euphoria. How crazy that the opposite sex (or same sex, whatever your preference) can cause such a reaction from a normally rational and logical person.

Yes, I am becoming a girlfriend. It is happening. I’m doing downright nutty things like deflecting the affections of other quality men, enthusiastically participating in game nights with kids, and, on occasion, not having sex but being perfectly blissful with just sleeping together and cuddling. And I’m happy. Jebus.

Enough about that. More about me. I mean, if you’re going to read my blog, you should know things about me. Earlier I indicated that I’m a “rational and logical person.” If anyone who knows me well is reading this right now, they’re likely exclaiming something along the lines of “Ha!” or “As if!” and with good reason. While it’s true that I consider myself pretty rational, my logic can a bit skewed, and my emotions can definitely get in the way. What do you want, I’m a woman. (Gasp! No she dih'int!) OK, I’m against gross generalizations as much as the next gal, but I’ve known a lot of women, not to mention inhabiting the body and mind of one, and I’m sorry but we sometimes tend to let our emotions affect our decisions more than our logical sides. This isn’t always a bad thing, mind you—I’m sure some decisions should be made by throwing logic out the window. I’ll give an example: I would not be living in Portland right now, happy as a clam (and I mean that), if I had thought about the decision to move here logically.

I’ll set up the scene for you:

Little Me. Barely twenty years old. In a suburb of Buffalo, NY. Just back from spending the summer in LA. Feelin’ groovy. I meet a guy. He’s older, from the city, different. He’s got quite an edge. We start dating, and—you know how it is in the beginning—we’re all cuckoo for cocoa puffs over each other. So, when he gets fired and decides to move to Portland, I want to go too. Well, to be fair, I was planning to move anyway. I had seriously considered Maui (had a good friend there, plus, come on, the place is Paradise), but they had a six-month quarantine for dogs. She’d be on a separate island, and I’ve read some dogs die in quarantine. That was out. I was thinking of going back to LA, but the guy I had there, with whom it didn’t work out, was all “This is MY city” and shit. Whatever, dude, it’s fucking LA. But he had a point, I guess. So, Portland. I had never been here and, really, I knew nada about the place. The plan became for my new guy to set out on his own, driving, and for me to save up and meet him in two months. So, naturally, three agonizing weeks later, I flew out to Denver and met him there to drive the rest of the way together. OK, that is a story for another time. Let’s just flash-forward eight years (and three long-term relationships) to present-day me. I FREAKING LOVE PORTLAND. Moving to Portland was the best thing I ever did for myself. It is fantastic. A friend recently referred to me as “Portland’s greatest ambassador,” and I proudly accept. So, you see, if I had listened to my mother, I wouldn’t be living in this fabulous city that I love. Seriously, if Portland was a person, I would marry him or her. Now, this is damn long for a blog posting, I know, but it’s your introduction to me. So back off and just be happy you’re not reading someone dumb’s blog, eh?

I can’t believe I have a blog.

Yours truly,
'Gizzle

P.S.—Take it from me, don’t do drugs.