well, that's awkward

Willy eats feminine hygiene products. I had no idea this was occurring until my housemate was forced to awkwardly approach me one day and inform me that Willy was passing "girly stuff" for fear that he would die from his unhealthy eating habits. I felt really bad for Wade for having to bring up such an awkward topic. I honestly had no idea this was going on - I don't know how Willy was even managing to get access to these things.

See, I try to be one of those courteous female housemates who carefully wraps up and double bags all remnants of having to endure feminine torture on a monthly basis because well, I live with a male housemate who takes out the trash and shouldn't have to deal with what he calls "girly stuff." I even went as far as to place each carefully wrapped bag in a separate trash can in my closet so it was entirely my responsibility as it should be. Without my knowledge, what I appeared to be leaving were carefully wrapped presents for Willy to somehow dig out and ingest. Yeah, gross, but he's a dog so you know, they do things like this. Not to mention Willy is so good at being cute that he could probably get away with murder. Something I'm sure he's well aware with since he's decided to take up residence on my bed and use my legs as a headrest. Oh it's a good thing you're cute Wills.

sigh, mothers

My mother: Do you sleep with the window open?

Me: It's summer, of course.

Mother: Maybe you shouldn't in case someone breaks in.

Me: Not going to happen, it's been in the high 80s with 45% humidity.

Mother: I want you to be safe, don't you have a fan.

Me: Yes, a window fan. That requires the window to be open.

Mother: Well maybe you should just keep the window shut.

Me: What so I can melt in my sleep?

Mother: Well do you have pepper spray?

Me: I don't think I want to answer this, you'd only worry.

Mother: Well go to a gun shop and get some.

Me: Okay, I'll do that next time I find myself wandering around in a gun shop.

Mother: Do it before Wade (the housemate) goes out of town.

Me: I don't even know if Portland has gun shops, it seems so anti-Portland.

Mother: Well find one. And buy a good brand.

Me: Only if you foot the bill, my bank account is not endorsing this ridiculous idea.

Mother: Fine, make sure you keep it by your bed.

Me: Yes mother, I'll put it right next to my baseball bat.

Mother: This isn't a joke.

Me: Oh no, I take the idea of someone disrupting my sleep to steal my decrepit macbook very seriously.

Mother: Okay, well then goodnight. Be safe.

Me: (sliding the window open) Mhm, of course.

Mother: What was that noise?

Me: Either someone is trying to break in or I just opened the window.

Mother: Chelsea....

Me: Night mom.

I know I live in a big(er) city now, but really?

a tranny and a mathematician walk into a...

I love the people I play board games with once a week. Mostly because they are the perfect embodiment of what Portland is about. The campaign "Keep Portland Weird" comes to mind.

Let's take an outsider's view to the group. Let's say you walk in to your closest Fred Meyer (grocery store) for your typical day of errands and saw this group playing board games, you would likely stop and stare for two reasons. The first would probably be on the grounds that not only are there people playing board games in the dining area of a grocery store, but they are the strangest group of people you've ever seen in one place at one time. The second thing that would halt you in your tracks would likely be that not only do the people all look completely different, despite their many differences they are having fun. A lot of fun - fun with yelling, laughing, and giving off a sense of complete comradeship. Except you're in Portland, so perhaps you wouldn't stop and stare because weird things happen all the time here.

So perhaps it's no surprise that on Wednesday night at any given time I can be found playing board games with a tranny named Becky who has more cleavage than I will ever have, a mathematician recovering from an alcohol addiction, a zealous dude who's hitchhiked across the country, a conservative banker, an overweight DDR champion, or numerous other individuals even more normal or zany than the rest. We are the unemployed, the employed, the stoned, the sober and the "weird" that help make Portland so amazing.

The greatest thing about this city and the thing that I love the most is that nothing is too wacky or too out there and you can literally be as weird as you want and nobody will stop to stare at you. You want to paint your body pink and run through downtown? Go for it. In fact people will probably assume you're doing it for some sort of breast cancer campaign and may even throw a few dollars your way. You want to sit on a street corner and play the national anthem on a kazoo? Be prepared to compete with the guy on the other corner with the same act. We have one of the largest parks and the smallest park in the world. This city is the perfect blend of books, food, music, art and people. Like a voodoo doughnut - there's something for everyone.

new people

I recently, and by "recently" I mean spontaneously due to utter loneliness and boredom, joined a website called "Meetup.com." I know, it sounds like some sort of creepy eHarmony knock-off but before you stereotype me as some sort of desperate single, hold your jets and let me explain. Essentially it's a way for people in the same city to find other people with similar interests and get together and do said interest together (totally platonically and without romantic pretense). I know it sounds corny, and yes somewhat desperate, but I'm telling you, this place is a lifesaver for someone who just moved to a big city without knowing anyone and just needs some people to do things with. Oh hey, I'm someone who just moved to a new city, sounds perfect!

It's also super fun. Well okay, the one meetup event I've attended was super fun so I'm a little biased, but it was awesome. I went to a board game meetup (nerd alert) and played some crazy intense (not that crazy or intense, I'm just out of practice) strategy eurogame called Puerto Rico. I still don't know what classifies a board game as a "eurogame" since apparently my vast knowledge of family and party board games makes me a novice, but I'm willing to learn more. I also met a few pretty nice people and experienced some lovely commradery for being a newbie. I may even go again, no I will definitely go again next week because I'm a loser who has nothing better going on Wednesday nights.

I've also joined a couple of other meetup groups, one of which is a book club (double nerd alert). In my defense this book club is going to the Oregon Brewfest in a couple of weeks and they hold all of their meetings at a public brew house. Did I mention they're all women (because men don't read)? How completely awesome is that? A women's book club that sits around discussing literature while drinking beer.  I'm super excited and still have about three weeks until I even meet them. Speaking of books and being a nerd, I am also the proud new owner of a Multnomah county (aka East Portland) library card.  I don't think I've had a new library card since high school and there's just something about the shiny new piece of plastic that hasn't been scratched up and bent yet that makes me giddy. Or perhaps it's also the fact that I now have unlimited access to even more books. The only downside is that the libraries here charge late fees and coming from a girl who was spoiled by no late fees and always returned books weeks late, this may take some getting used to. They aren't exactly pennies either, I'm talking quarters by the day.

Other than that, nothing much new is going on here. I'm still jobless and spending money much faster than I make it, but I've decided as a 22 year old who has been frugal and responsible her whole life (seriously, I still have birthday money from ages five to sixteen in my savings account) that I'm allowed to live a little bit. Perhaps it was a good thing I didn't spend my money on frivolous childhood toys since I can now spend it on lovely adult outings and adventures, I was one smart kid!

smart dog

My roommates dog, whose name is Willy (something I should have mentioned in the last post) has outsmarted me. It's not everyday the college graduate feels inferior to a dog that hasn't even been to obedience school so I felt like a post was needed to record the event. So how did a species that lacks opposable thumbs outsmart a species with a pair? He locked me in my own bedroom.

Yes, you read that statement correctly, I was locked in my own room by a dog. No dog is not a metaphor, no this dog is not some crazy talented seeing eye dog trained to do these sorts of things, no the dog is not part robot and no to whatever other crazy explanation you can come up with to justify this experience. Also no to any questions regarding me being inebriated or crazy. Or delusional.

I woke up this morning to Willy's frantic attempts to get into my room. This happens occasionally after my roommate has left for work and he needs out. That is, Willy not my roommate. I rolled out of bed (quite literally since I'm still bed frameless) and crawled my way to my bedroom door only to realize it was locked. Now I think it's important here to mention that my bedroom door locks from the outside of the room. I have no idea why the door knobs were installed that way, the logic behind Portland construction is not something I've looked into yet. I tried the handle again thinking maybe I just didn't turn it hard enough - no, it was definitely locked. I pondered the likelihood that I was still dreaming, but decided that due to the lack of orange juice cartons, dancing candy bars or hitchhiking dogs I was in fact awake. Not to mention in my dreams the sensation of a cold door handle is never actually felt. Things just aren't that realistic in Chelsea Dreamland. I'm getting off topic.

My best guess at what happened to put me in this situation is that in Willy's enthusiastic attempts to enter aka lots of jumping and pawing at the door knob, he must have turned the knob the wrong direction and locked it into place instead of opening it. Apparently in Portland the fourth is an excuse to light off fireworks all week. I really do mean all week. I've been hearing pops and bangs since freaking Friday. At first each sudden burst of ruckus reminded me of guns going off and I was quite paranoid and jumpy, now it's at the point of being stupid. Have I mentioned these occur at all hours of the day and night?

Given nothing here burns apparently this is acceptable holiday behavior and apparently Willy doesn't like fireworks. As noticed by his frantic whining and locking of rooms with people inside them. Being the intelligent homo sapien that I am and grateful I was locked in my bedroom where I have an endless supply of potential escape tools, I fashioned a bobby pin (yeah, I'm a regular MacGyver) into a key aka unbent it so I could stick it in the keyhole, push the pin and make my escape. The entire time being whined at by Willy who was on the other side apparently unaware of what he had done and thought I was playing a cruel game with him instead. No puppy, the trick is on me.

So that's how I spent five minutes of my morning the day after America gained its independence - gaining independence from my own room. See what I did there? Although I am glad to see that I still work well under stress and half conscious. On another note not related to dogs, dreaming or fireworks, I took a hike near Mount Hood last Friday. Apparently it has snow year round, um, you're crazy northwest! I hiked to Mirror Lake... I'm sure you can guess how it got that name by the photo.

my very humble abode (plus dog)

My mother asked for photos of my room and I figured I would spread them around the interwebs as well. Why not? So what does a college graduate's room look like? Unfortunately it looks a lot like a dorm room but with cleaner carpet and mismatched furniture. And in college at least I had a bed frame and an actual drawer for my winter socks. I have upgraded to a full size mattress though. Oh yeah, I'm living large.

Yes, the dog is allowed on the bed. Only on the blue blanket though. Some training to get said dog to stay on the blanket and not cuddle up with my pillows was involved.

Sadly these were the only books I had room to pack. The other ten boxes are still stored in my old closet at my parent's house. Yes, ten. The only piece of furniture that I personally owned in Flagstaff, a beautiful blue leather reading chair, was also left behind.

old friends

Upon moving to Portland, I immediately reconnected with a friend who went to high school with me. I thought it would be a little awkward reconnecting with someone who I hadn't seen in three years, but so far it's been really nice having someone to hang out with. On Friday we met up to wander around downtown Portland and he was nice enough to not only show me around but give me tips spanning from the proper pronunciation of streets/rivers/you-name-it to how to (more) easily tell direction in a city without peaks. It helped that for once the weather was absolutely gorgeous and according to many Portlanders, or at least the broadcasters on the radio, yesterday's weather is what typical June is like. That is until a weekend of rain and cloudy skies, but what can you do? I don't find it that horrible, but I also have been living in sunny Arizona so I'm not as deprived of my Vitamin D.

Back to yesterday. We ended up doing quite a bit of walking since he and I both had no idea what exactly there is to do downtown. When I did a little pre-online research about downtown Portland eating out at restaurants seemed to be the only thing suggested and neither my stomach nor my budget could do that all day so walking became the activity instead. I'm not sure where we walked downtown and even though my awesome tour guide/friend did a great job of pointing out streets, I'm just not good at remembering all the details. I'm more of a walk until I either get lost or find my destination type of person so street names never really stick in my brain. He did help me with the basics though so I'd call that a small victory.

After both of our feet were sore beyond their measure, we went to the river and just sort of watched it for a while. I miss being by a river. In Germany I think I took advantage of the lazy feeling that accompanies people watching by the river and it was nice to do that again. Not to mention, there are definitely some worthy specimens in Portland for people watching. We then hopped on a streetcar (which are free downtown, how awesome is that?) and took it to Powell's book store. I have just one word to describe Powell's: wow. I have never seen so many rooms full of so many different types of books. It's more like a library and I do love myself a good library. Except then I reminded myself that should I wish I could actually purchase that book on 1000 types of curries or a feminists view of the world. In fact they have subjects that I didn't even know where considered subjects. Metaphysics? It's a subject. Military? Also a subject. In fact they have at least a bookcase dedicated to the most off beat subjects.

Once we grew weary of our wandering (say that five times fast) we headed back to where he was parked and he drove me all the way to Vancouver, back to Portland, and all through the southern neighborhoods of the city pointing out random bits of information. Despite the traffic, it was really interesting and informative and now when someone tells me they work in Lake Oswego (aka my roommate), I can actually see that place in my head and give it a location relative to where I live. All in all yesterday was nice, I got to feel a little more social for not knowing hardly anyone and now my feet are screaming for a rest. They received their rest yesterday since I spent most of the day curled up with a mug of Twinnings and my kindle.

Today the same awesome friend that showed me around on Friday invited me to a potluck with his extended family and while I was expecting an awkward encounter that would involve me trying to convince them I was not just some random girl off the street, it also turned into a rather enjoyable event. I love family get togethers, especially when they aren't my own. I know that sounds kind of awkward and like a pretty weird thing to say, but there's something incredibly interesting and entertaining about being around such a friendly group of people. I can't help but love the banter that results and even amidst the inside jokes, I still feel a part of something so warm and welcoming.

I get to be the random stranger that everyone wants to know about and it's not like I enjoy the attention, but I enjoy the freshness that comes with describing myself to a group of people who don't already know my ambitions or anything about me. I'm not sure if that makes sense. Apparently they liked me too since I've been invited to future picnics and game nights and it will be really nice having a family-like group without the drama that comes with dealing with my own family. In short, reconnecting with old friends isn't nearly as awkward as one would expect and I may have even gained a sort of pseudo second family out of it. Sometimes it's nice to have the feeling of home completely away from home.