beleaguering ennui

My general inactivity in this realm, might suggest my general existence as busy and if you thought that you’d be partially right. And if you thought happy and busy, you’d be even more correct. But even that’s not the sum of it I fear. So I’ll just spill.

Laura and I moved into a nice little place near the Mississippi district in NoPo—aka North Portland. I’m getting up a little earlier, but that’s only because it’s easier to function when I feel like I’m not so rushed, ironically making me less tired. It has since evolved to somewhere between 5:10a and T-7mins, which I know isn’t earlier (or less rushed) but somehow I feel like I’m settling in.

I have a form of employment, which last week (my first) dominated my afterschool time. I’ve been working with this guy named Richard who I fear/rejoice is the one progressive diesel mechanic in all of Portland…and boy is he a social progressive. Anyone who gets his (gloved) hands dirty with grease everyday while listening to Air America and ranting about (NPR—National Petroleum Radio) has got to have an opinion left of the majority.

My life has been all but consumed by my occupational choice. I go to school 6a-2p then home for some grub before off to work with Richard for 3hrs or 10 on Fridays and then home. maybe check my email, do some dishes, work on a little project here or there, then dinner. Laura’s home by 8p or so whence we spend our most rejuvenating and quality hours—together. Talking, grocery shopping, cooking, eating chocolate and massaging tired bodies before we crawl into bed at 10p, to do it again the next day, with hopefully more grace precision and love. This mad cycle yearns for the break of the weekend.

The weekend, ah what a word. So much baggage and yet so invigorating. A state of being, unscathed by adult structures, ruled like we were in neverland. It is the word of imagination and childness, rampant with so many dreams and aspirations we need Doc and Superman to turn back time. make it all fit and work out. But then there’s Lex Luther and Mr. Tannen. Monday as the entity of Bart Simpson, the biggest silver lining, cleverest brat of a bully to bully the block, comes knock-knock on the door, post Sunday.

So dastardly is the impact of Sunday dinner on one’s general psyche that Laura and I formed its counterpart, more so of natural reaction to the situation than a planned attack, and wow, it is the most wonderful ying ever. We call it Breakfast. it is Breakfast because it’s different than breakfast. in fact it’s the most bodaciously brewed breakfast that bravely boasted to be. We get up real late, like 6:30-7a. then we mosey on over to our artisan of choice (it’s been Dyer of late), and bask in the grandness of R&R that is this state, this street, this shop. forget about my week, my work, my stress and the headless horsemen. this is good, this is warm this is now, this is Breakfast with Laura.

This entry was posted on Thursday, November 3rd, 2005 at 6:19 pm and is filed under life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.