Rough and Ragged 1: The week I quit my dream job

Official day 1 of my vocational nomad-ness. For a
moment I feel like a character in a Ray Bradbury
story- floating in the vast milky way as the mother
ship moves further from view. The astronaut in the
story I loved was named Peregrine. My teacher in high
school said the name is symbolic for a beautiful bird.
As Peregrine floats weightless,he takes account of his
life, the choices and the risks, and all things that
have brought him to this moment. Eventually… as one
would expect of an astronaut free falling in the vast
nothingness of space, he CRASHES into the atmosphere
and blazes like a comet falling to earth. A child
looks up and sees the “star”. The child makes a

So I wonder, as I sit here drinking a fiercely valued
cup of coffee at Stumptown, in the story of my
life….may I be permitted to be BOTH the Birdman and
the child ? May I be the character who makes wondrous
life choices and takes risks and lives fully, no
matter the consequence… Can I also commit myself to
remember the child I am  too ? Embodying The open
hopefulness and the promise of potential ?

It’s so easy right now to feel like I have just busted
into flames. That the free falling randomness and
uncertainty of what lies ahead will keep me tumbling
into oblivion. Still, I am trying hard to keep it
together. Keep a routine- get up, dress, shower, do
SOMETHING. But I am haunted by the insouciance
of others…..The cool cafe people or the lost souls
on Burnside. Ever notice how people MOVE differently
when they have too much time on their hands ? They
SAUNTER, shuffling as if gravity has gotten the best
of their inertia. I fear that I HAVE BEEN staring out
windows alot this week. My brain just clicks off and I
wonder if I am becoming one of those Saunterers, in
which case, I would rather be Perigrine. I would
rather burst into flames than be stifled by dry rot.

But it’s only been a few days…. It will get better.
My friend said I should expect to go through all the
stages of Grief. I am in denial (nice) and entering
that next stage, but I’ve forgotten what’s NEXT ???
Anger, sadness ? I should google it to find out…. 

I read in the NY Times yesterday that I have sooo much
to be thankful for. It is true. I did not just come
back from Iraq, 21, with a hand and leg missing. I am
not being indicted, or blamed for the hardships of
millions of displaced victims of Hurricaine Katrina. I
have had no fashion faux paux at the grammy’s, no
bitty titty  exposure at the super bowl. No rumor of
my tantrum after a disappointing brazillian wax (J Lo
, sooo 2004). It’s alllll GOOD really. I have all my
limbs and my conceince, and my waxing looks HOT.

So maybe the only thing going up in flames here is my
pride. The buddhists believe that we should rid
ourselves of Ego. But then, how would we glamorize our
hubris ? It’s impossible to not be prideful. And how
would that be any fun ? Our pride is linked to our
success in love, relationships, career, the attainment
of information, personal freedoms… Still,
I think Buddha might be trying to tell me something-
Every time I LOVE a new sweater, every time I think I
look really HOT, I get a stain on my top- a big ,
blustery unforgiving stain that somehow says “dumbass
!”. Like Buddha or someone is trying to tell me not to
put so much stock in material things.

So much on my mind—– I thought I had given up
coffee….. I am SOOOO stimulated ! At least I am
having sex. I hope to continue having sex. Can sex
with O. be like THAT coveted sweater ? Soon to
obliterate itself because one can’t truly be happy
with superficial things ? But is sex superficial ? Or
is sex something that even buddah would say “Party on
!” to ?

Oh, and it’s only day 1. Tomorrow I am switching to

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