Issues of Execution, Part 1

Our stay in Portland ended, after a short stint at my cousin's house who is in the midst of moving house within the city. Although she was busy most of the time with her job, Master's studies, and getting drunk (as we all are), we did manage to find some time for all of us to hang out at a small dark bar in downtown called Momo's , which featured a few awkward paintings of blinged out bitches scrunching their tits together (and one especially creepy one that, firstly, looked exactly like an ex of mine, and, to top it off, always seemed to be staring right at you no matter where you were standing), a really beat up pool table Reed and I some chump change into, and a warm outside area that was more comfortable than the inside. After introducing us to her friend - called Tom Cruz - she told us we should crash at hers, and so we took over the living room as home base.

Life got a bit more real at that point, unfortunately. As Reed put it, 'this is no vacation.' We no longer had an excuse to eat out for meals, or go to the cafe to use the internet, so we just hung around the house looking for apartments to check out. Reed picked up a short term volunteering position at Mercy Corps, and got a job interview scheduled, while Chelsea and I made calls to apartments for viewing appointments. The housing was fairly cheap, in particular a few places which had ridiculous deals, but I found that we were relatively uninspired by the options, being between jobs and uncertain of our future. Most of the cheaper options were taken, or did not suit our needs - either being too far out of town, or too far from public transit, or the like.

We eventually narrowed it down to a few options, one in particular - a two bedroom house with a basement as large as the ground floor space. Though that ended up not panning out due to application formatting issues and eventually dismissal of our application. We kept sane at night by throwing some darts at nights at the local pub Biddy McGraw's

 or playing Cards Against Humanity (MechaHitler for life!) , and one night got a bit out of hand with our new friend Tom Cruz, his assortment of interesting stories, and his tendencies to start drunken fights with strangers and randomly disappear from the Lucky House, but other than that time kept on moving on, and soon we were due to be in Spokane and had to leave without a definite answer on our new place. Reed will have to sort it himself, which was accounted for in our original plan.

We were meant to travel up to Washington to meet with our mother who had recently relocated there from California with her boyfriend. The price was right for them; mom is entering the years where long extra shifts at a hospital can be extremely taxing, and Harry, her boyfriend, is a retired ex-technological entrepreneur with a great deal less than he once had. The drive from Portland to Spokane was a bit surprising really, especially after stories Reed heard of treacherous snow. In fact his anxiety was evident as soon as we started,  yet the snow chains he bought weren't needed. It started with a winding mountain pass, draped with fog and arranged with almost ornamental frozen waterfalls. Reed was vigilant while Chelsea admired the scenery, but once we cleared the mountains, the ground leveled out into an expansive collection of yellow brush. It remained this way for hundreds of miles, even as we crossed into the so called 'Evergreen State'. We all had envisioned something akin to California's towering redwood forests, but were greeted with the high desert draped in a daytime high of 30 degrees Fahrenheit. Suddenly though, the sunny plains broke,  trees began to crop up by the road, and the sky went a deep dark gray. Soon there was snow beside the road, but it still never fell.

 Just a little ways longer and we arrived in Spokane, an old city whose retained old brick edifices reminiscent of an old industrial age. It reminded me of the city of Sheffield in England, which I always remember as a city made only of brick. I think that was the only time a city in the states reminded me of a British city... but that is as far as their similarity goes. After driving through the downtown and a few miles up the road, we arrived at my mothers quaint 50's era home.

They had only been there 2 months, and as such much of their furniture and possessions were still packed away, either in the garage, or in the various rooms. Mom had not returned from her new job as a Head Charge Nurse (or something to that effect), and Harry greeted us with jobs to perform around the house to give his old hands, which had been overworked to the point of breaking the skin, a short rest.

Harry is a tall thin man of Irish decent, who considers tasks exceptionally logically. He and my mother are both very bias on certain topics due to their very conservative political ideologies or familial attitudes passed down from their parents, and at times they is a little too happy to push those subjects forth into unrelated subjects. When it comes to jobs to be completed however, Harry's years of poring over manuals whilst working with technology have given him a great ability to explain ideas and processes clearly and informatively. I assisted in the installation new hoses and drainpipes for the bathroom sink under his instruction, and job was done to his satisfaction, even under the influence of a few cans of Pabst, supplied by him naturally.

Once my mom arrived at home, Reed, Chelsea, mom and I all decided to go out to dinner - Harry stayed behind per usual (he tends not to leave the house if at all possible). We went to a nice brewpub and had some classy food, which was a very welcome change from Voodoo donuts and cup noodles. Mom seemed very happy about Reed, clad in his business suit, bringing a girl to our Christmas, even if they are not exactly together... she didn't mention it in particular, but I could tell she felt proud and relieved. Maybe she felt that he had grown up a little... but its kinda hard to say what is running through her head at the best of times.

 We finished our beers, took our leftovers home, and I returned to working on the sink while Reed, Chelsea and mom caught up and waited for my sister and her fiancee's flight to arrive. I worked with some frustration at the task due to minor mistakes while curled up, arms tied in knots inside the cabinets of the sink, trying to work my Crescent wrench or channel locks into the position necessary to tighten nuts or loosen water supplies or install ball joints. Harry observed that the only reason I get frustrated with my performance is due to, he thinks, not a failure of the task, but a failure to perform the task in the same amount of time as one who has had extensive experience with it. It reminded me of some of the stress, anxiety and disappointment that was felt on the journey to Portland thus far... not that any of these features were present in excess, but it did make me think of their origins. As these thoughts rang about my head as I sipped my beer while I listened to Harry drone on about other details I need to attend to under the sink, Mom came and told me that my sister's flight would be in soon. Normally I would have went with her, but I decided that I needed to finish the task, and insisted she go without me so I could get it done.

 Crammed under the porcelain and dripping pipes, I could not help but think  that Portland was good, but it did not carry the finality I had hoped. It was fantastic and fun, but it did not strike me as entirely ideal for me - an issue not of performing the task, but wanting its execution to work out ideally. Its so damn difficult sometimes to know whether whats before you is a good thing, and even if you think it is, the slightest doubt can turn into suspicion and eventually dismissal. It feels like there's so little time, and its an incredible task to try and determine how the hell, or even where the hell you're meant to use it. Then again, if a plan to action can be questioned, its worth figuring out why that is before its too late.

Starting New

We arrived in Portland, Oregon a few days ago, trying to find a new place to live. Why Portland? I'd say its more hearsay than anything we had actually confirmed. The rumors are its cheaper, easier to get a job, better wages, better public transit... but thats not hard to find when you're coming from Los Angeles. Not to mention we took the very responsible route of not making any preparations whatsoever for when we got here, primarily because we only decided to actually come up less than 2 weeks ago. Actually, I guess that wouldn't be exactly accurate... we had talked about it for a while, but none of us really accepted it until we had gotten all our loose ends tied up and actually got in the car.
I've kinda fallen in love with the place though. Beyond the crazy art around the city, from murals of abstract art to walls in the city center emblazoned with 'KEEP PORTLAND WEIRD', the people are just decent.  Its not hard to strike up a chat, and going out is cheap: PBRs are usually about 2 bucks a piece and craft  (which I can't get enough of) is about 3 dollars by the pint. Not to mention that, for the first time in my entire life, I walked into a bar and actually knew nearly every song they played. Not a single chart... which is kinda ridiculous. And that was only the first bar we walked into. This place only got better between specialized brunch restaurants, tea shops with over 100 different varieties of tea, barcades with Rockband karaoke, a downtown with more food cars than some town fairs - kind of its own world. One that I reckon suits me pretty well for the time being. They do call it the city where the young go to retire for a reason.

The city itself is beautiful as well. Even the more industrial parts of the city are more appealing than alot of places, with old brick buildings with still active production going on. And I've never seen quite a collection of bridges. From old industrial to new multidecker freeway bridges, for some reason they're interesting to look at... and makes walking around the city make you feel much further away from home than you really are, and happier for seeing something new.

It was an arduous task trying to find a place to stay, and it wasn't nearly as cheap as we thought it would be for a temporary place. A month in a shared flat may have been 300 bucks a month, but 2 weeks in a temporary room eventually ran us about $350 a week. But whatever, necessary expenses. When you're put in a tight spot, it's funny the things you'll put up with. We're currently staying in a shady little.... well it's not quite a hotel or a motel, but it's certainly our own very special space. The kind of special where you find needle caps underneath the bed, and you get that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize why they had the no refund clause on the contract you just signed. So yeah.
 Rather than spend too much time in our cozy little den, we've managed to occupy a local cafe during our latent hours. When we found the place, we figured the fact that it has wifi is good enough for us, but then we realised this place is a whole new level of amazing. Firstly, its good enough when you can goto a coffee shop in the morning and get a cup of decent coffee for a decent price, but what if you can buy a pint of beer for less than or equal to the same price? Golden. So now the hunt begins for a semi-permanent place. And a real job. Goddamnit.

I've been trying to score jobs doing freelance writing on certain websites, but job adverts for this are uninspiring at the best, and the perks of the 'work for yourself!' route seem to be getting quite unclear. The selection seems to be either writing something you like for nothing, writing something you could care less about for chump change, or not being qualified to get both the good parts of that deal. Gotta stick to it though - seems the whole making a career deal consists of a phase of doing a bunch of stuff you don't really want to just so you have the chance to get a job you do want. And while I do like the occasional hand of 3 card poker, thats a sorta awkward gamble to come to terms with. Turning my nose up at jobs won't get me anywhere though... and coffee will bankrupt me soon enough at this rate.

Youth in Desult

No, 'desult' is not a word.
Yes, I do think it should be one though. 'Desultory' is 'lacking a plan, purpose, or enthusiasm', so naturally there should be a form of the word that isn't an adjective, but a state of being - and one quite a few of us are in nowadays. I know few people who actually have clear plans that are realistic for the future. I know fewer people that are exercising these plans with a specific purpose in mind, or at least if they have a purpose it is something that I feel is missing the mark. Common examples I think of are: "Money" ( to be spent on what?), "to be successful" (successful in doing what and for what satisfaction?) or, my personal favorite, "because that's what you're meant to do" (I presume these are the kids who didn't go through that annoying yet necessary stage of asking 'why?' as irritatingly as possible to every single statement they could). Even in those who have a clear purpose, there is a severe lack of enthusiasm for anything regarding the plan or the purpose in the first case, or the enthusiasm eventually wears off into a state of perceived necessary monotony for life to continue meaningfully.

This generation is Youth in Desult. The vast majority of us is missing one or - if you're lucky enough to be like me - all of these things. We went through the steps in our youth because they made sense in the system we were taught. "Oh ____, just do whatever you love, whatever you're passionate about, and everything will work out fine!" - we couldn't go wrong, could we? Now either you got good grades, did well on your tests, went to university, and now Voila! You're unemployed, homeless or still unable to stand on your own two feet properly and struggling to find a decent wage, or you have a sweet office job with a nice paycheck and... well,when the hell was wearing a suit and grovelling to your boss supposed to be your biggest concern for your 20's? and where did paying off student loans factor into that grand design? The alternative is that you couldn't fork over the paycheck for college, or really didn't care to go, so you got a job busting your ass, and you now work overtime every week to pay your rent and only have a small handful of friends that you see once every one or two weeks because you can't really afford to do otherwise. That isn't to say there are some lucky fellows who got to do what they want to do from the get go, have a decent wage, and go home feeling proud of the work they've done, and entertainment every weekend fits nicely into the budget scheme - they're just in the minority... and if history has anything to say in regard to that issue, they've got better things to do than read about this bitter limbo that they've fortunately managed to avoid.

So we have arrived at the cause of Youth in Desult - our expectations were set too high, or our dreams too big, or our uniqueness too much of a priority, or we were told we were too special and got complacent, or it just made too much sense to work out nicely and we never really had a plan B. This blog, however, isn't a manifesto on how shitty the world is, how everyone is against us, how and why the system blows, or how we will put into effect idealistic political fallacies that will entice our thoughts and have a lovely after taste of self-indulgence, but are ultimately ineffectual for the time being. This is about the experience: this is the story of Youth in Desult, the wanderings to new places, silly enjoyment despite the act's stupidity, the chance opportunity for indulgence in items far too expensive for us to enjoy typically, taking solace is small relative wonders that few others could find meaning in, and the crushing defeats and misguided efforts that rain down a horrid sense of insecurity and confusion on all of our heads.

Finally, I suppose there's one last issue to address... and its 'Well... why is this important? For what reason do we need to hear about this crap?' It's simple really... why go through Youth in Desult alone, when, at the very least, we can learn from one another? Lets compare notes, and find a way to those goals. We don't have to be Youth in Desult; it just takes some help, a boost in confidence, a bit of advice and laughter, or a plain and simple stroke of luck to get us into the Goldilocks zone. So I reckon I can at least give that a shot, or else end up exactly where we started, with nothing less to show for it.