Hipster Mordor

Last night, as I walked the two blocks from a warehouse/rehearsal/performance space which used to be the artisan lightbulb factory from that episode of Portlandia to my studio apartment conveniently located directly above a dive bar, a shwanky hipster bar, and a bar/coffee shop, something occurred to me.

I HAVE REACHED THE HEART, THE PEAK, THE BLACK HOLE, OF HIPSTERDOM.

NooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHHH

Sweet God.  Insidiously, bit by bit, thrift store by thrift store, food cart by food cart, unpaid artistic project by project, I have reached the center of the tornado. 

I don't know how to take this.  If Portlandia were to follow me for a week they'd have enough ammo to roast Portland hipsterdom like a Fourth of July barbecue.  They'd be guaranteed ten more seasons of hipster satire.  For God's sake I'm a vegetarian actor who treats the coffeeshop/bar as my living room.  There, I have job hunted, watched Conan the Barbarian, debated politics, gotten drunk, talked for hours about art, and manicly paced and smoked cigarettes outside the front door.  And I'm blogging about it!!  NOOOOOOO!!!!

The worst part of all is the ultimate giveaway that I am in fact a hipster:  

I refuse to admit that I'm a hipster.

What have I become???  

Maybe by admitting that I have a problem I'm taking the first step towards recovery.  No more locally owned restaurants that cater to vegans and "locavores," no more apartments furnished by Ikea and thrift stores, no more scanning craigslist for temp gigs at farmer's markets, no more french press coffee, no more PBR and Kraft mac n' cheese.

...But I like all those things.  Oh well.  At least I'm out of the closet now.   Anyone wanna find a happy hour where we drink out of mason jars?

Surfing USA

For the past few weeks I have felt like I'm on a free fall through turbulence.

A month ago, as Liz and I sludged through rusty water, giggling at Moe as she splashed in doggy joy through the indoor lakes, we got to talking about moving.  There was the first move we shared together (also with Moe) when the Uhaul broke down in the middle of the intersection and I had to maneuver a powerless truck out of the road.  There was the move that involved a month or two of covertly crashing on a friend's couch and smuggling the dog.  Then we started counting and realized that for me, I've moved every 2-4 months since I graduated from college.

I pondered my gypsy-esque lifestyle, and now that I am somewhat nestled in to a new place a month later, I'm realizing that I've been sucked into a time-lapse of the last nine months, and the end to my migrant habits is pretty far off.  That is to say, the speed of my moving has increased.  I stayed in NYC for two weeks, plopped down in Portland for three days, stayed in Colorado for one week, went to Seattle for a day, now I'm in Portland for three days, LA for four days, Portland for three days, LA again for three days, and then theoretically back in Portland for 2-4 months. And then God only knows where I'll be.  Anywhere from sea to shining sea in this country, with a vague possibility of being gone altogether from this continent. 

I guess this makes sense given the fact that you create your own reality and this lifestyle kind of mimics the way my brain works--jumping around with little long-term planning.  But damn. I have reached the point where it is wearying.  Long story short, today I wanted to blog about maintaining calm in the middle of the storm.  Or...having a sense of home no matter what.  Not that I am particularly great at it, by any means.
But here are some love-nuggets for you to savor:

Music.  

An instantaneous way to ground your mood in whatever way you need.

Network.  

When traveling is less like traveling and more like friend-hopping it is way more fun and definitely helps you stay centered.  

Alcohol.  

In the words of Eleanor: "Sorry 'bout it."  It's guaranteed to relax you and put you right at home. 

Exercise.  

Okay this may seem contrary to the last one, and I also have to admit I'm not great at it.  Weirdly, this is more difficult to procure than alcohol when you're on the road, but I think it helps move traveling energy through your body.  Hippie moment!  Also, it's good for you.

Art.  

Duhhh. There really is only one way to digest and make sense of the human experience, especially when you are experiencing a great deal of change.  Creating/absorbing art.  That's what I think.

On to the next one

Hey!  In all of the madness of my sudden move and trip to New York, I did not officially announce:  I AM AN OFFICE MONKEY NO MORE!!  My temp position with Banfield was completed right before I left for New York, so I bid a fond farewell to my new Banfield friends and an enthusiastic farewell to six months of Human Resources cubicle living.  No more data entry, no more OSHA logs, no more 8-5, no more slow waltz towards insanity.  And no more peanut butter M&M theft. 

And now, I can say that I have completed round one of grad school auditions!  After two weeks of monologues and 16-bar songs I have seven schools up in the air, I am still homeless and jobless, I am still on the road, and there is more ahead.  In that spirit, please enjoy this song, as it has been my JAM for the past few days.  On to the next one.