Honey

I can barely admit it, but I must. I hold on to a lot of stereotypes that distort my experience in relationship to other people. As you may have been following in the last while through my blog, I am attempting to dissect and disseminate my own “outsider syndrome” (did I just coin a phrase?) and learn all over again how to connect with people in real and meaningful ways.

I went for a walk yesterday. It was blazing hot outside, but I was in desperate need of an adventure. I packed all the water I could carry without putting too much strain on my aching knee, collared up my trusty puppy, and headed out on one of those excursions that the young folks these days call “urban hiking”. I had a few possible destinations in mind, but mainly followed the instincts inherent to the part of myself who is free and innocent and trusting. I headed south.

Miso and I kept an easy pace through the neighborhoods of Northeast Portland. I know I teased her a little by walking through Irving Park, but it wasn’t too bad, seeing as how there were no other dogs playing on the hill. We stuck to the shade where we could find it. Miso spent most of her attention on the curved base of trees while I wondered at the lush, beautiful gardens embracing old Portland homes.

When we finally reached Broadway, it was like entering a whole other place entirely. The traffic was, as it is typically, commuter centric, cars on a mission. The sidewalks widened, making room for a homeless population that I rarely see from the outside of my car. A closed-up, out of business deli stood empty beside the goodwill and the Chinese buffet. Every corner held at least two of our poorest fellow humans, old folks in older clothing, sometimes yelling but mostly just looking forlorn and drawn.

I couldn’t help it. I gave money to whomever asked. (Side note: Every time I do something like this, I think that I can never, ever tell anyone, because that would mean that my intentions weren’t pure. Maybe it doesn’t matter how “pure” my intentions happen to be at any given moment and I was just brainwashed by the Catholic Church. Hmmm.)

I went to my favorite sushi place, Yuki on Broadway and 14th. My order was a little complicated and I had to sit outside with my dog, in the sweltering heat. I asked for a pitcher of water and the server who brought the water was so confused at my need for an entire pitcher that he almost took it away. Luckily, he granted my wish when I begged him to leave it.

I made a good sized puddle out of the ice water for Miso to lay her hot body in. We sat there together, observing the constant activity. It was then, looking around at the corner and the intersection full of people that I started to see myself making assumptions about the people who walked, rode, or drove by me. I noticed that the negative assumptions were aimed at the kind of people to whom I consider myself an outsider (there’s that “outsider syndrome” I was talking about).

As you may have been gathering in this endless search I’m on to find out what’s beneath the bullshit, I am tired of feeling like an outsider. Gazing at the strange and diverse pedestrians addle by me and my dog, I wondered if perhaps a way to help me stop thinking that I am separate than other people is to seek out the goodness in others rather than seeing what I have taught myself to see.

Unfortunately, this post serves to admit, most humbly, that I am a judgmental person. Did you already know that about me?

I would love more than anything to free myself of all that cynicism and rejection I’ve felt toward other people. I want to really care about everyone, not because I have to, but because I want to. Is it possible to recognize the person in every person, the thing(s) that make us more alike than we are different? Are we doomed to continue to lose touch with helping each other and taking care of each other until we crumble under the weight of our loneliness? Or will our evolution turn us toward the love and respect that will finally heal us? I don’t usually think about this question, since in it lies the greatest sadness that we share as human beings.

Back to how I was sitting outside with my dog in 94 degree weather on Broadway in Northeast Portland. (Have I told you that I love Portland?) Once I had finished my delicious veggie tempura roll (yum) I headed north with my hot dog. I had two interactions with people that were meaningful to me on the way home. They were meaningful because I am (astonishingly) growing out of my shyness and finding ways to genuinely relate to people. I’ve been afraid of people for a very long time.

With all that and a soy dream icecream sandwich under my belt, Miso and I made our way home. I was content and satisfied with my urban adventure.

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There’s something special about the people who live in Portland. It’s hard to explain, but I realized shortly after moving here that I had found my people. It would make sense that growing up in the Northwest would afford a certain amount of familiarity and belonging, especially when returning here from a time in California. Surprisingly, I feel more at home here in Portland than I ever have in Seattle or Olympia, even though I spent far more time in those [also wonderful] cities.

I’ve only been here a year, and I’m not deeply involved in any community efforts or organizations. Nevertheless, I’ve formed a solid opinion about the other people living here in Portland. In general, I find the folks here to be respectable, compassionate, responsible, creative, interesting, and thoughtful. There’s something extra too. Something about the carhartts and the do it yourself culture, the art and the music, the civic involvement, and the passion underlying everything. This is a special place, a place that is attracting more creative and passionate people all the time.

As the national economy stutters through a frightening post-industrial era, Portland continues to be a landmark of regional growth and success. Real estate appreciates, businesses thrive, and the community finds better ways to overcome timeless challenges. I am not alone in attributing Portland’s success with the people who live here. We’re part of the Creative Class, “a key driving force for economic development of post-industrial cities in the USA”. I am confident, as the United States finds its place in the world, that Portland will take care of itself and its population for many centuries to come.

I’m very excited to see what the results are like today. Oregon isn’t part of the Super Tuesday club, otherwise I’d be voting too.

Domestic partnership is now legal in Oregon, and provides all the rights afforded to married people without that silly word straight people get to use. I don’t even like the word “marriage”, unless it’s spoken by the clergyman in the Princess Bride.

So how the heck do I get my relationship with my girlfriend of almost 7 years recognized by the great state of Oregon?

Luckily, Basic Rights Oregon has posted a super helpful resource guide to get me started. Most of the information below is taken directly from their website:

• First, go here and download the Domestic Partnership Declaration Form.
• Then find a notary to sign the form and make it official.
• Bring the notarized form with your ID to your county clerk’s office and pay the cash fee. (In Multnomah County, get more information here. The fee for registration is $60.00 in cash or certified funds only.)
• The clerk signs your Declaration of Domestic Partnership form, which makes your domestic partnership legally valid.
• You will then receive a decorative, commemorative Certificate of Registered Domestic Partnership either in person or in the mail. This is NOT a legal document. If you want the legal certificate, purchase a certified copy of your Declaration of Domestic Partnership from the county clerk (the fees vary from county to county but typically are less than $10). The certified copy will assist you with benefits claims and name change.

The primary elections are confusing me, because I want a woman for president more than anything. However, I’m beginning to fall for Barack Obama’s message, the smooth sound of his voice, and his innocence. Try to resist this very convincing music video.