Columbia River Gorge

I'm doing a couple of sunny weather posts today in order to counteract the gloomy weather.

A few weeks ago, when the sun first came peeking out, I decided to take the day and go for a drive up the Gorge. It was still chilly out, and the leaves on most of the trees were slowly peeking their little buds out to test the air.

I pulled off at the Portland Women's Forum State Park Viewpoint, also known as Chanticleer Point. Feeling brave, I grabbed my bag of essentials (books, journal, pens, water) and marched on through the gates down the overgrown dirt road. Not knowing where it would lead me, I wasn't even sure if it was part of the park (there was no sign regarding trespassing), I wandered along until I found a bend in the road that overlooked the highway and the river. It was peaceful, and the birds were making their little bird noises as they welcomed the first warm day of spring.

I sat for quite a while in the breeze, writing and reading on a blanket I had spread out on the grassy edge of a dormant blackberry patch. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me. It sounded like heavy footsteps. I sat up at attention, not knowing what would come traipsing around the bend of the road. It got closer and closer, until I could see the outline of what looked like a very tall person walking with long strides. I sat still and waited. What came around the bend was a young girl on a chestnut brown horse. She was startled to see me, but not as startled as I was. It was not what I expected.

A line of nearly ten horses and their riders quietly and softly walked by me. I know enough about horses that if you are on the ground you shouldn't make any sudden moves, so I sat very still and waited for them to pass, smiling at the riders.

I didn't want to stick around until they came back on their way out, so I packed up my blanket and things and headed back up the hill to my car. I drove a little further to the Crown Point overlook and took a few more pictures.

Inside the Crown Point Vista House.

Wool spinning demonstration.

The view from the balcony of the Crown Point Vista House.

Ha Ha Ha... Love it.

This is hilarious. Time to wake up people, no one cares what you are doing every second of every day. If you ask me, narcissism is the biggest hurdle our generation is going to have to overcome.

Lessons Learned

For some reason, I can't sleep. So I bring you: lessons learned.

I learned this lesson a while ago, but I'm just now remembering how funny it was, even at the time. So my friend and I (we'll call her J for anonymity's sake, but she knows who she is) were having a pint down at our local pub (okay, so even though we're not British, we can dream, right?) and we got to napkin writing. I was explaining the virtues of Flarf poetry to her, and then we got into Lambertism. Anyway, the following is actual photographic proof that poetry and alcohol do not mix. Unless you're trying to be funny.

And if you want to know what it says but can't read the writing, here's the translation:

L

The goat wants a glass

of honey for the sparrows

in the laundromat.

J

Beer for the masses in quantities

beyond belief make drunk fishes

that swim in circles that

create the currents in the ocean

& control giant snowmen in Africa

L

Charity lies in the new

red flag and the children

want molecules of pure

fog in their pails of

gruel for the hamsters

J

Light fragments & the pretty

people of the world control

cursive writing and dance in

endless meaningless until the

music falls like raindrops onto

pillows of cotton crowns

L

The lucky prank finds gold

in the bottles of skunk juice

and the lettuce fingers wants

a bloody nail to puncture the

truth in justice of chiffon

J

Silver knives and silver bells are not so

varied in Mars atmosphere crazines

where Lindsay learns lollypops while chewing

phones to little stars and launches

rockets into dreams far away into Peter

Pans NL

L

Do you want a sausage tree

to grow in the land of

carrots? what would comets

bring to the party of licentious

mandibles and frank lilacs?

J

Hot dogs and corn pops float in the batter

of dog hairs and levitate beings from

another world until vapors of putrid

sweat stain the bedsheets in kings

llama and bows of satin.

L

Cerulean salt breath in landmines

of caramel and coral beads

of sweat on a carousel of pigeons

in a pineapple of ruby altruistic

notions and lotions of milk and

honey bush tea trees.

J

Photos of buckets and steam of movies

sound the alarms of fire president of

ill and fate fall in sand dunes and

cry bold rivers of forks that receive

great compliments of Harmony & Love

pandas in the lower basin of Guilt.

L

I WANT A LION MADE OF

FERRETS, SUGAR BEETS, AND STARS TO

BE MY FAMILIAR.

J

MEE TOO!

L

THE END!

OUR PROSE RUNS LIKE RIVULETS

As you can see, it deteriorated into a warped stream-of-consciousness exercise. At least we weren't bored!

Remember When...

Cartoons were actually good?
This was one of my favorites growing up. Hilarious!

My Exciting News!

I am going to be published!
Words can't even begin to describe how excited I am right now. This has given me the energy boost I needed to finish up work on a few of my projects. If you are interested in buying a copy of the book my story will be in, the website is here: http://patchworkpath.com/index_files/ppdb09.htm

Now back to our regularly scheduled blog.

Spam Poetry

I love this:

http://poemsmadefromspam.blogspot.com/

He's Just Not That Into You...Really?

It's been a few years since Greg Behrendt's co-authored book came out. It was featured on talk shows across the nation, and even sparked the creation of his own talk show (short-lived as it was). Now, there's a movie coming out with the same title, and it promises a comedic female journey into romantic situations in which "he's just not that into you".

But I'm not buyin' it.

When the book came out, I thought to myself, "Really? that's all there is to it?" and I watched as thousands of women flocked to buy the book and find out the reasons behind male behavior. It gave a blanket excuse for the mistreatment of women (or at least all the jerk moves that guys pull) in the form of a simplified statement. It was intended as a revelation, meant to enlighten and relieve women of the stress of trying to figure out the mystery of why he doesn't call. However, I found the statement "he's just not that into you" to be insulting. It assumes that women just sit around all day, pining for men to come to their senses and are clueless as to their actions.

I tried to offer the statement as comfort to a girlfriend once when she was bemoaning the status of her relationship with a certain guy. He wasn't calling her, he only wanted to hang out once a week, so I suggested, "Maybe he's just not that into you," thinking that it would give her peace and let her off the hook to move on. Instead, she said, "Well what's wrong with me? Why isn't he into me?" It hit me that by giving the responsibility to the man to decide whether or not he's into us, we take away the power we have over our own feelings. If you spend all of your time trying to figure out whether or not he's into you, you're going to lose sight of the fact that you may not really be into him.

As modern women we are pushed to go to college, start a career and be successful at it, find a man, have children, be a mom, get the promotion, etc. It can be a lot to fit onto one plate, and "finding a man" shouldn't be something we need to worry about. Do you ever hear a man complaining about how he needs to find a woman? No, because for one thing most men aren't marriage obsessed and for another they don't have to worry about the window in which they can have children.

So here's my advice to all the women out there who are worried that "he's just not that into you": stop it.

Stop worrying about whether or not he's into you, listen to your own feelings, and let them develop at a slower pace so that you can really understand them. Don't focus so much on the need to get him into a committed relationship. Just let things happen naturally, relax, and enjoy getting to know the person you are dating. Then, if he doesn't call you won't feel the need to obsess and analyze ever single interaction you've ever had with him.

Now, as for the movie... we can only hope that it doesn't continue to drum this idea into our collective female psyche.

Who cares if he's not into you? The truth is he probably wasn't worth your time anyway.