becoming a tourist where i was once a resident...

I became a tourist in my once home of Chattanooga and snapped pictures of the river. This crane was as still as a stone as we watched him from the new (to me) Renaissance Park on the North shore.

a day at the beach...

a perfect fire...

some good lighting...

a perfect day at the beach :)

making new memories...

I wish I was in control of my memories. I wish that I could go to a Redbox-like kiosk in my mind and decide what the features of day will be. This, of course, is not the way it all works and try as I might, I am still at the mercy of what thoughts are triggered by my daily life.

This past weekend was full of triggers for me. The week of the 4th of July, 2008, was the last week that I spent with my dad. I was home for 8 days and was able to do all of the quintessential White Pine Independence Day activities. I rode in the parade with the entire Carmichael clan (including the dogs) either riding horses, being pulled on a wagon, or, like me, riding a 4 wheeler. We all were decked out in red, white, and blue with Dad wearing a striped "Cat in the Hat" hat. It was a great day. I also attended the Carmichael 4th of July reunion and had fun with my extended family playing some volleyball and softball. All of these things were so much fun, but, looking back on them is a constant reminder that they are the last experiences I had, physically, with my Dad.

This year I made a conscious effort to take part in some 4th festivities to make new memories. I wanted to have new associations for this holiday so that when next year rolls around, I have some more material to draw from. Hanging out with close friends, sharing some food and drink and enjoying the springlike weather was a good start. I am trying to strike the delicate balance between carrying the past with me without it dragging me down. Call it my new work in progress.

Two years ago, I was at a family reunion with my daddy. This picture was taken that day.

missing in plain sight...

Tonight while talking with my best friend, he told me something new about me. This does not happen very often. We speak frequently and have weathered some crazy over the past 5 years. He is the person who knows me better than anyone and the person that I can tell anything (and frequently do, at least a couple times).

We were talking about the time immediately following my Dad's death and the interaction that we had at that time in our friendship. At one point in the conversation, he said that he would leave my house with a sense that he missed me. He did not miss the physical person that he had just held and had been snotted upon by, but, he missed the Amanda that he knew until July 27, 2008. The Amanda that laughed and made sense.

This was a bittersweet thing to hear. I am sad that I became a person that was unrecognizable to those most familiar to me and sad that I was such a mess for so long. I am sad that my Dad is not here and that I am still working through what that looks like. The good that I gleaned from this conversation is that I have returned from this place, not the same person, but, someone who is fun to be around and who is stronger for the next challenge. I also realized that I am a blessed person to have friends who had to "miss" me and adjust to a new version, but, who still showed up.

why i love to live here...

If I had posted a weather commentary last week at this time, it would have been laced with words that can only appear once in a PG-13 movie. I was *way* tired of the rain and cold weather that I returned to after my wonderful time at the beach. The universe did not need another Oregonian moaning about how awful the weather was.

I will now sing the praises of the amazing weather that God has bestowed on the Pacific Northwest. This week I was able to take in a sunset on a cool, humidity and mosquito free evening, take several walks out in the sunshine and spend an evening throwing a frisbee and a football in my bare, newly pedicured feet. I am pretty darn contented with my home...

As the warmer days continue and the mercury rises in the thermometers, I hope that I can return to this place of wonder and that the perma-grin stays around for the entire summer.

becoming that girl...

I have a big issue with commitment. The only thing that I have been committed to (besides my family) for an extended amount of time is my car. We have had 12 wonderful years together and I do hope that we continue in this amazing relationship. Cars are easy to have a relationship with; maintaining them usually only entails a 3,000 mile check in and they are contented to not be driven for days/weeks at a time. This is the type of relationship I seek: one that I can control and drive in whatever direction I decide.

I have, with much fear and trepidation, crossed over to the dating side. It is quite a shock for me to arrange my schedule with someone else in mind, to keep my house clean at all times and to make plans to go out and explore Portland several times a week. Though shocked, I am really enjoying myself and am working to keep the giddy out of my everyday conversation...

I have, much to my bff's delight, become that girl. I have become the person I make fun of who is constantly smiling, listening to love songs and is in a constant state of "awww." I want everyone to enjoy this as I have enjoyed making fun of all those around me who have been in this state. I only hope that I can maintain clarity of thought whilst enjoying this new adventure.

times they are a changing...

When I headed out on a crazy beach adventure 12 days ago, I had no idea the life changes that awaited me. I was merely concerned with the 36 family members I would be sharing a beach with and the mass chaos that had to occur. I was not completely off base with the chaos expectation (I had never heard a host call out "party of 29" before), but, we all survived the week and had a great time.

I also was looking forward to my time in Chattanooga with a little bit of hesitation. I know what it is like to be in the early stages of grief and loss and was unsure of how my dear friend would be doing. That hesitation was quickly replaced with excitement to see and catch up with one of my favorite people and to bring an understanding to her feelings and experience.

The end of my trip brought about the reality that I will be applying to and hopefully starting graduate school at Portland State University in the fall. I am excited to have a more immediate goal to work on and to learn how to help people (I am thinking a Master's Degree in Social Work or Counseling) as my career. I know this will not be an easy adventure, but, I am excited to start it.

To sum up, the last 12 days have reminded me that my life is blessed, my job on this earth is to help others as best I can and that 36 Italians create one remarkable trip :)

this thing called life...

Again this week, I have been reminded that the only thing we should expect is the unexpected. I have spent time with someone I love who is beginning to walk through life without her little sister and roommate. She stills waits for the door to open and for all this to be a huge understanding...

While spending time with her, I got news of another friend who lost his mother suddenly and we then spent the evening alternating sighs and trying to reconcile this thing called life. I know that people die every day and that it is the Circle of Life, but, facing these tragedies really takes me back to those first days when I did not know my own name but made decisions that will last a lifetime. The days when I could not remember my PIN number or if I had eaten. The days when I picked up my phone numerous times to call my dad only to find his number out of my contact list.

I know that we are all placed here in a definite order, that we meet people because their experience will enrich our lives or make us grow or we can add to their lives with what we have done. This makes me feel a bit better when I can reach out with a visit or a dessert to distract the unbearable and I can tell someone that they will survive, at least for today.

pardon me boys...

I have spent 9 years of my life (4 in college and 5 after) in Chattanooga, TN. My time here yielded vast perspective on who I am as a person, my closest friends (some still here, some elsewhere) and the knowledge that I, like Eva Gabor in Green Acres, prefer the city to the country. All of these things could not change the fact that 3 years ago I was done with living here. Done. I had never been so glad to see a city in my rear-view mirror.

The three years I have been gone have seen my reality forever changed as well as my future plans shaken free of my expectations and ideas. It has also softened my heart for Chattanooga. I loved driving in yesterday and seeing the city framed by Signal and Lookout Mountains'. I enjoyed walking and talking with an old friend for hours and discovering midday that we have know each other for a third of our 30 year old lives. I was relieved to finally get to share an evening (and ice cream) with a friend who has been facing one of the most horrible tragedies I have ever experienced first hand.

Chattanooga, I am sorry I left in such a huff. I do love all that you have to offer and I will be back more often to visit.

what do 36 italians do at the beach?

We play this ridiculous game called corn hole. Who knew that a bean bag toss could be so captivating?

the atlantic ocean says goodnight...

a breakfast win...

I have an issue with wanting people to love the things that I love. I want to share my favorite music, movies, and restaurants with those I care about and have them immediately see why I would have such attachment and admiration for such things. This is not always the response I get and, try as I might, I do not take well to such dissension. People should just get on board and view things as I do.

I realize that the above logic is flawed and that having people enjoy the same things I do would be boring and redundant, but, a little part of me feels that it is not too much to ask :) An glorious example of this is the fact that my best friend never likes the places I take him for breakfast. Never. (well, like almost never) We have had this exchange over 3-4 of my favorite places in Portland and I have been a bit scared to introduce him to any more potential disappointments.

Enter the impending closure of the Little Red Bicycle Cafe. This place is so near and dear to my heart that an unsatisfactory response by the aforementioned person was something I feared only a little less than him living his entire life without experiencing the wonder that is "The Messenger" breakfast sandwich.

I swallowed my fears and took him to brunch this morning with great results. He loved every part of the meal from the mini pineapple upside down cake to the peanut butter bacon French toast. We were also lucky enough to catch Ali, half of the heart and soul of LRB, at a slow moment and were able to chat. I am so glad that this, of all places, was a win in the bff breakfast column. Hope springs eternal that 1) I have good taste 2) I can be right in this friendship :), and 3) my love affair with this little cafe is a valid one.

heads or tails...

I have had a rough few days and I know others who have a much harder few days than I can imagine. Like Annelle from Steel Magnolias, I have "tried very hard to make heads or tails" of the loss that my good friend is facing. I have read countless messages, fielded phone calls and texts and had conversations with people who are working hard to come to an understanding of how this can happen. We have all been unsuccessful.

The thing I have taken from this is that love is the only thing in this life that matters. The love for those in our lives make things like this survivable. I had to pass that love on from afar and vicariously through my sister and others who promised to hug when my arms were not long enough. I think that the message was translated and I look forward to being there in a few weeks.

if only teleporting were an option...

all i can hold onto...

So much pain and no good reason why
You've cried until the tears run dry
And nothing else can make you understand
The one thing that you held so dear
Is slipping from your hand
And you say
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
Why, why, why
And all I can say
Somewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Tho' we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will hold the answers at the end of the road
Yesterday I thought I'd seen it all
I thought I'd climbed the highest wall
Now I see the learning never ends
And all I know to do is keep on walking
Walking 'round the bend singing
Why, why, why
Does it go this way
Why, why, why
And all I can saySomewhere down the road
There'll be answers to the questions
Somewhere down the road
Tho' we cannot see it now
And somewhere down the road
You will find mighty arms reaching for you
And they will hold the answers at the end of the road

Amy Grant, Somewhere Down the Road

gone...

If you have read this blog, you would know that it has the tendency to be a bit melancholy and a lot sad. I have tried to keep that from happening with every entry, but, it will be happening with this one. I received the most upsetting news about a friend and her family and it has captured my thoughts, my mood and my mental focus.

Loss of a loved one is something that I have a bit of experience with. I lost my brother and my dad within 14 months of each other and both to tragic accidents. That was tough. I have gotten many pity nods and,"I can't believe that"s, but my dear friend lost her niece and her sister/roommate in the span of a few hours. Hours. That is where my brain shuts down and my heart breaks for her.

This is the girl who came to my side when my dad died because her dad had died suddenly. The first person who was honest and told me that my life would never be the same and that it would suck for a very long time, but not forever. This is also the person who I still call roommate though we have not lived together in years. This is the person who I wish I could hug and let cry and snot on my shoulder.

I feel that if you have been through this hell that you would be given words to say or a grieving how-to. I have no more to say or to do than anyone else. I know a few of the things not to say and that not saying anything is the worst thing I can do, but, I do not have the magic to release her from this. I do know that people have helped me face the unimaginable and that I will be here to help her do the same.

the gift of time...

This past week, I have been reflecting on what things I am able to do because I am not working. My love of Portland has been the topic of this blog in the past, but, this last week I have had a bit of a "frenassance" with some of my favorite places.

On Sunday I was able to head to the coast to bask in the beautiful sunshine and to get some caramel corn. It was the perfect time to walk, read and photo-document. I love that I can get to the coast in an hour and a half and that I have become a huge fan of being at the beach in pants and sleeves. Here is one of the 150 pictures I took while exploring.

the loss of my playlists...

I have, many times, talked about how I am a little obsessed with the passage of time and all things related to the passage of time. I love calendars, remember random dates and anniversaries and keep greeting cards so I can look back at where I was a specific times in my life and compare it to where I am now.

A semi-tangible way of doing this was saving and cataloging all of my playlists from the last 3.5 years. These were either my creations to mark how I was feeling on a certain day or to make some task, usually sweating, less awful. Sprinkled in with these were the playlists that friends, one in particular, had made for me on birthdays, holidays or just hard days that called for a little help. They helped me sleep on planes that would be met with grieving relatives and saved me from a completely melancholy music collection.

Two days ago, my Itunes decided to purge itself of said mixes. Luckily, the music remains intact but arranged only by artist and album. I know that I can (and will) research and rebuild some of these mixes, but some are gone forever. In thinking through this reality, I have decided that it will pose a great challenge to repopulate with things are more current and move on from more of the sad lists that had become a staple. If you are a music sharing person, consider this your call to arms...

when the rain comes...

I am not a huge fan of Bob Dylan as a singer, but, I do appreciate him as a songwriter. One of my favorites is the song,"When the Rain Comes" and today I am reflecting on different facets of that song.

The rain has most definitely come in its wet and cold form down on the fair city of Portland. It has been helped here by the amazing wind that hit the coast at around 70 miles per hour and slowed to 45 miles an hour around the corner of my house (cue the halloween soundtrack music). I will tell you that I do not mind the rain in Portland and, on most days, I will be telling the truth. Today it makes me want to stay home and not join the soggy world that soaks my jeans and fills up my ballet flats.

The rain also has come in the form of contemplation and sadness for me and someone close to me. During an impromptu and providential meeting, we shared thoughts, tears, and support in a way that I feel only God can orchestrate. That exchange reminded me of this song and why I love it so much.

"When the Rain Comes" written by Bob Dylan

When the rain comes it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do

I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away

When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone
Rest awhile
it'll be alright
No one loves you like I do

When the rain comes

I will hold you

3 years in portland...

I am big on dates. I do not always enjoy the kind that can be awkward and start in the science fiction section of Powell's (done it) or the fruit, but, many days on the calendar hold meaning. I remember seemingly insignificant dates and then recall them with people that could care less what day I bought my Ipod.

This talent(?) or obsessive quality has made me very aware that next week marks my 3 year anniversary in Portland. March 15, 2007, my dad and I left Tennessee with all of my personal belongings stuffed into and on top of the Honda Civic Hatchback we affectionately call the "Iceberg." The only open space was the passenger seat for the non-driver and the space that my Dad's modest duffle fit into.

We started out on what promised to be, and fell short of, an exciting 2,750 mile road trip across the flat, corn-filled midwest. The wild, wild west my father was looking to see was soon replaced by miles and miles, and miles, of broken down irrigation equipment.We laughed, got lost, and listened to the only 5 CDs that were not buried underneath all of the stuff. (Upon arrival, my Dad told my best friend that if he heard "that guy" sing about,"what goes around, comes around," one more time, he would lose it.) It was a great opportunity to spend time with my Dad and a bad time to be our lower lumbar regions.

The sad part of this anniversary is that I cannot call my Dad to share these memories and laugh. He shared them with everyone he saw and at his funeral I was able to hear about how proud he was of me and how much he loved our time together on the open road. Our lives are journeys. Sometimes those we love come along for the ride and sometimes they go on to places we are not yet ready for. I am trying to continue mine knowing that my Dad would want me to go on many adventures and, when possible, take my little silver car.

How is the job search going?

This is the question that dominates or at least begins every conversation that I have. I know that it is a logical opener, but, I am feeling a bit overwhelmed and feel the need to whine a bit.

I feel really bad that this blog has become a bit, well, a lot melancholy as of late. When beginning to write, I thought that it would be a great place for funny stories and ranting about the wonderful adventures that I always find myself in. Well, hears to hoping that happens at some point...

Today, while looking through craigslist.com for jobs through tear-filled eyes, I decided that I am a bit tired of looking for a job. It is amazing that it only took about a year to declare this, but, I am growing very weary of the endless looking, cover letter creating, resume tuning, hyper emailing, responseless waiting that has become my life (or at least my professional one.) This by no means will make a change in my daily routing or drive but I felt that I should get that out there.

I look forward to the day that I can sit in front of my computer in a coffee shop with a latte instead of a drip coffee and write this blog. That is all.

movie cry baby...

I love to watch movies over and over again. My dad used to make fun of this and when I lived at home would beg to not have to repeat things we had already seen. I have been on a nostalgic journey through my favorite cinema lately. I am quite sure that very few, if any, of these films will be on the AFI: Top 100 list (unless they have changed to add the 10 Things I Hate about You), but, they are movies that I love and that have been standbys for my existence.

The thing that I have noticed is that many of these movies now make me cry. It is amazing how life can take things in a movie that you never even really noticed and now make it something that has you wiping your eyes. I have been a crier my entire life, and, not always a well timed one. Now I have an even shorter threshold for boo-hooing...

I guess I should just embrace this and go into all movies, whether it be animated, romantic comedy, or actual drama, with a packet of tissues and no shame and with the knowledge that feeling someone else's emotion just heightens the human experience.

violent perspective...

The past week has provided several (100,000) opportunities to really look at what life means and what it looks like to lose someone you love. The devastation in Haiti and the loss of a friends' loved one have taken me on a roller-coaster of hopelessness and disbelief.

These two tragedies look very different to the outside observer. The one that the world is watching takes death and makes it a number that we cannot fathom. I look at the pictures and read stories about the horrors that are in this small nation, but, my brain does not have the ability to comprehend that kind of loss. I think of the people who will not ever know what happened to their family, who will never have a funeral to sob through, who will not have a death certificate to pour over in hopes of a different outcome. People who will have to relive this event through thousands of pictures, piles of rubble and news stories the rest of their lives and will now have to redefine what life looks like.

The other story gets much less press. In that one, a husband, father, son and friend dies suddenly taking with him the life others had already planned out. They now face what it feels like to receive his mail, pass his favorite restaurant and to pick up the phone to call him. Also, they are now on a quest to find what life now looks like.

Disaster, whether natural or personal, happens everyday. I hope that in both cases there will be an outpouring of support and love that is supernatural and that there will be peace where it is least expected.

is it better to have lost...

and gained or to have never lost at all? The topic of weight loss is far from original early in January. Everyone is resolving to get in shape, loss the holiday overindulgence, and finally look the way they have always dreamed. Unfortunately, this will be less of a focus for most of us as soon as the heart-shaped boxes of chocolate are exchanged.

I think that being healthy is one of the noblest causes we can work toward, whether it be physically, spiritually or emotionally. I wish that I could say that I fervently work towards each on a daily basis, but that would not be an accurate statement. Enter reason for blog...

In my life, I consider losing 85 lbs doing diet and exercise to be one of my proudest achievements. I did this over years and was derailed by a loss about 1.5 years ago. I have recently become quite unhappy with how I have been looking/feeling and have made strides to get back into a more healthy routine. Today that resolve was made even stronger when pictures of my thinnest, strongest self made their way into my inbox.

Thanks for the encouragement, Mom. I really want to look and feel that way again. Soon.

my fair city...

This week I have the privilege of hosting my dear cousin Keilan here in the city of roses. I love having guests, and have had many over the (almost) 3 years I have lived here. Every visit presents the very same problem: how do I narrow down the list of amazingly fun, yummy and quirky places here in Portland to a manageable itenerary?

Keilan's visit will be relatively short, so, I think that we will focus on the very local fun of the city. I think we will take in some of the amazing microbrews, watch a pub movie, explore downtown (possibly with a voodoo doughnut in hand) and let him meet some of my friends and portland family. I cannot wait to show him my home and hope that it soon becomes his home, as well.

Consider this post an open invitation to visit. I love the city and doubly love introducing those I care about to it's charms.