What about Bruce Jenner

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So I’m standing in the checkout line at a North Portland grocery.  And not one of the expensive, organic, hipster ones. It’s that post-work rush so the line is crowded.

“So I guess Bruce Jenner is a woman now.”

“Is he–I mean, she?I missed that.When did that happen?”

“I dunno,”he says, “but that’s what it says there,” and he gestures at the now infamous InStyle magazine cover.

“What’s the big deal?” asks someone else, “he looks fine to me.”

“Like I wouldn’t know if I saw him walking down the street that he ever wasn’t a woman,” adds another.

“Because he looks comfortable with it.”

“Yeah.”

“Dunno why it’s a big deal.”

“Well,maybe his wife thinks its a big deal,”points out the first gentleman, pointing out the subtitle on the magazine.

“I’d be fine with my husband doing that,”points out a middle-aged woman, “as long as he really acted like a woman, you know, and picked up his clothes and stuff off the bathroom floor.”

(Ok, that one–I’m not sure if she was kidding or not.)

“Hey,” the guy says to the cashier as we advance up in line, “Did you know Bruce Jenner is a woman now.”

“Cool,” says the young man checking out or groceries. That was all he had to say about the matter.

So there you go. I’m not sure if this is a reflection about how the whole country really feels about Bruce’s gender choices and there are just a few journalists and celebrities out there blowing it all up into another “controversy,” or if it’s just a Portland thing.

But really, that’s all we have to say about Bruce.

N Interstate Avenue, 1963

My old neighborhood. I spent New Years Eve at the Alibi while pregnant and didn’t miss the alcohol at all. Best party in the whole city.

Vintage Portland

N Interstate Avenue at N Shaver Street, looking north in 1963. It provides a great view of The Alibi, which is still in business.

View of the Alibi Resturant on N Interstate at N Shaver (VZ 444-63), 1963: A2011-013 View of the Alibi Resturant on N Interstate at N Shaver (VZ 444-63), 1963: A2011-013

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Two all beef patties…

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I got a new client in recently and as often happens paper work went awry. So I missed a little bit of crucial information– that this was one of my asperger’s clients. If I’d known, I never would have thrown a metaphor at her right off. She’d commented about me falling under a different organizational grant than the other people in the office and I joked that as a whole the office was like McDonald’s, were you went in and made a quick selection from the items in the menu, whereas you worked with me if you needed a sit down restaurant with special orders. She just kind of got a blank look on her face and I thought, “OK, guess I’m not as funny as I thought.” Then later, I felt kind of mortified when I realized why she didn’t get it.
After about an hour session though, as she was leaving, her face suddenly lit up and she declared, “I get it! And I’m the gluten-free bun!

Well that sucks

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So how many people can say they blew a job interview because they had a major PTSD dissociative in the middle of it.

They were looking at me like I had three heads. They probability thought I was on drugs.

I was trapped outside my  body on the other side of thick glass unable to warn myself or stop myself as complete idiocy babbled out of my mouth.

Toward the end they looked a little afraid of me. I’m not sure why. I don’t know what I was saying or doing at that point. I was too far away. I woke up sitting in my car in a parking lot on the other side of the city. I don’t know how I got there.

I hate him.

Road Rage

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I’m not sure if road rage is common for people with PTSD, but I can see where it would be. Near accidents set off that exaggerated startle response and fight or flight reflex and everything just cascades from there. Portland drivers have been fucking crazy the last couple of days. Just fucking crazy. Doing things like trying to get onto 84 west using an off ramp. That kind of crazy. I wrote a poem to my road rage:

Your Daily Roadrage Poetry

Like a branch
falling into the water
Your actions
have
an immediate effect.
As you are an
asshole,
so I shall be an asshole.

You
cut me off.
Once.
I cut you off.
Twice.
This means
we are
Even.

You drive
a
hamster box.
I drive
a
red sports car.
What did you *think* would happen?