Travel Journal: Portland, Oregon
Public thoughts on my trip
Captain’s log: Sunday, August 11, 2024
First day in Portland, Oregon, and bruh… bruh… there’s way more homeless here than I thought there would be. Granted, I spent the day downtown, but I ventured outside of it, and still… homelessness runs about. My buddy getting his master’s (or was it a PhD?) in Political Science did warn me of the homeless issue in the city—when it comes to safety and cleanliness in cities, motherfucker knows the data—but I brushed him aside, and said, “Bruh, ju lying.”
Brother was indeed, not lying.
Nevertheless, I started thinking about homelessness as a collective issue. As in, “How did we as a society fail them? What did we do wrong?” How we treat an individual ultimately reflects us as a society and buddy, we aren’t looking good.
Moving on—these are just thoughts I had during my trip that I’m okay sharing publicly. My brother (or sister) in Christ, don’t expect salvation, I ain’t here to end world hunger.
Lan Su Chinese Gardens.
The walk there was sketchy. There must have been two or three times as I walked through downtown during the afternoon— its barren streets and shot-up windows—where I clenched my butt cheeks as I passed a dark tunnel and refused to make eye contact with the deranged homeless lurking at every corner. There were plenty of times when I thought, “I should turn back. This garden ain’t worth it, home skillet.”
The garden was indeed worth it.
Lan Su was small, but what it lacked in size it made up with authenticity. The garden was like an oasis in the middle of the city that felt like a part of ancient China. I rested by a pond, underneath some shade, and just… existed. That’s right, folks, you heard right: existed. Google it, why don’t ya? I didn’t read, and wasn’t on my phone, I just observed and let my thoughts roam. Sometimes there weren’t any thoughts, and that’s ok because it’s ok to just… be.
A thought that held me for a bit was the thought of being alone. And thinking of being alone naturally reminded me of a hike I did by myself in Santa Barbara. A couple, a man and a woman, passed me when I finished my hike. When there was a bit of distance between us, the man—in his early twenties— said, “I’m so glad I’m in a relationship. I could never hike alone.”
He said it loud enough for me to hear but far enough to not face me.
Now, I can toot my own horn and say his words didn’t affect me, but I’d be a liar. I’m a sensitive sponge, my friends. And this sponge that is named Diego absorbed his insecurity. That’s right, his insecurity to be alone.
Insecurity.
The thought of insecurity reminded me of a conclusion I thought of a while back which is: that the problem with the world is people projecting their insecurities onto others; their limitations.
Limitations.
In the realm of dreams, people sure live restrictive lives, don’t they?
Cambria, California. September 2022.
I’m taking a tour of the Pacific Coast Highway with a retired scientist. Ocean explorer? I don’t remember but his job dealt with nature. I was the only one on the tour. “So, what do you do?” he asked me as we drove down the coast, passing a flock of walruses. (Flock? Bruh, what’s a group of walruses called? The world may never know.)
“I’m a fictional author,” I replied to the retiree.
His response? One I’ve grown accustomed to. Something along the lines of, “Statistically, authors don’t make…”
Blah, blah, blah.
All I heard—hear—is, “This statistic is what I believe to be true. And what I believe to be true will soon manifest itself into my reality.”
Limitations.
When that sixty-something-year-old tour guide went on about statistics, I felt a sense of yearning for something. Was it a book he didn’t write? A different life he wanted? I’m not sure, but, ultimately, he was projecting his limitations onto me.
That hiker with his girl back in Santa Barbara afraid to be alone? He was projecting his insecurities onto me.
People, man.
Since the beginning of the year, I returned to people after finishing Sanse’s story in a span of five obsessive and secluded months. I wanted to socialize, to make new friends, heck, to even spark a serious romantic relationship. Suffice it to say, I’m burnt out on people again. That’s… another story. But the short end of it, the lesson—because you always have to find the lesson—was placing more boundaries, getting a better read on people, managing this big, big heart of mine, and, more importantly, prioritizing the relationship with myself.
That’s the most important relationship I’ll ever have in my life.
Shit, that’s the longest relationship I’ll ever be in.
My descent with people was starting to make me lose sight of that. I was starting to give too much, sacrifice too much, do too much. This led me to realize a new flaw I’ve built ever since I turned over a new leaf which is: that if I’m not careful, I can easily be taken advantage of by someone. I can be the one to always apologize, always analyze what I could have done better, but all the while, the other person will just toss me around like:
Granted, I never truly did get tossed around by someone. It’s funny, but ever since I’ve turned over a new leaf, my journey growing as a human being has consisted of a ton of crash courses on life.
The latest crash course was on people, romance, boundaries, and remembering just how much I love to be…
…Alone
I love to be alone.
I love to prioritize the relationship with myself, especially at a stage in my life where I have to prioritize my dreams. My craft.
This is what I was thinking as I was resting at Lan Su Chinese Gardens.
People.
The day will come when I’ll return to people with more wisdom, more boundaries, more experience, but, my brothers and sisters, that day is not today.
No.
God, no.
Like last year, I must awaken that ole obsessive and seclusive writer and disappear so I can finish Netzii’s story. (When my time in Oregon is finished, of course.)
It’s funny, this back-and-forth dance between socializing and isolation. It reminds me of some philosophical analogy that involved a porcupine. Was it a porcupine? Do porcupines have those spikey spikes on them? I think it’s a porcupine.
Anyway.
An isolated porcupine risks freezing come winter. So, for warmth, the porcupine seeks the community of others… risking getting poked in the fucking eye. What then is a porcupine to do if you don’t want to freeze or get poked in the fucking eye? Balance, of course. The mastery of this allows for the mastery of one’s soul.
I’m still far from mastering the enigma that is porcupines.
But I’m getting there.
Anywho.
Do excuse me, I have a homeless-infested city to explore and used syringes to avoid stepping on.
Oooo! Cannon Beach tomorrow! I love the beach. I can watch the tide come and go for hours. Tis good for the soul.
I think I was just cat called. Send help, lol.
