Bloggy

I have been reading about Oaxaca City lately, and it's a total mess. Not four months after I left the city I fell in love with upon entering, it went into turmoil, and is still not a happy place to be. Teachers went on strike mid-summer, demanding help for the residents of this poor southern state. They want "work, hospitals, better schools and the military out," according to a story that ran today. And they are demanding the resignation of the governor. So far, it hasn't happened. It's like any other strike we're used to seeing in the U.S., except that the police use tear gas against srikers and the strikers retaliate with rocks. It's insane becuase I remember meeting teachers there--An American teacher who was headed east to teach in a tiny town full of indigenous workers. He was in the capital to get all his visas in place before heading out to the country. He told he he could probably hook me up with a job, he'd found one through the state, paying ...

This weekend may have changed my life... I met a woman who grows 80 percent of her own food in the backyard of her Portland home. Saturday she invited me and B to walk through her garden. There, we met Jay, her resident bluebird who swoops down from her pear tree to retrieve peanuts from an opened hand. We got to see the benefits of compost toilets, which produce "humanure" and feed her garden so well that she scoffs at the idea of Miracle-Gro. She's got four types of pears, three plum trees, figs, peppers, tomatoes, squash, celery, cabbage, snow peas...basically a better veggie and fruit selection than Fred Meyer, and it's all organic, of course. She's even got a menopausal herb section. Plus, she doesn't ever have to wait in line at the checkout, she simply steps out her back door. I did a little tally with the help of my online banking and found that I spend between $250 and $300 a month on groceries, and if that bill vanished, in 5 years I'd have an e...

I've been spending so much time sending out carefully written cover letters describing what a great [insert random job opening here] I'd make that I didn't really realize what a rockin' employee I already am. Sure, my bosses have never met me, and I only talk with them on the phone about once a week-- but I get plenty of positive feedback via email. And for all they know, I could be covered in tattoos and have a serious drug habit. None of that matters. All that they want to know is if I've got a valid SSN, and can write. It's so cool! That's how more of America should work. It's become so much about perception, when really perception is SOO deceiving. Look at our house of reps! Ha! How many Mark Foleys are there out there that haven't been discovered? And yet his cover letters probably look great. He probably breezes through interviews. Err, used to.... I wanna make another point... I never realized how much time I wasted in an average workday. I n...

It's official. I'm a Carnie. Or maybe just a big ol' hippie. Saturday I went out to the farmers market and sold some hula hoops. Ten of them to be exact. It was pretty rad-- there are about 400 vendors there, it's huge. They all sell handmade stuff, art mostly. Some tie dyed shirts, sweet potato dog chews, glass beads, jewelry and now...hula hoops! Brandon actually sold the first one, I was off performing and doing market research. I met so many cool people- most are older, fed up with working for the man. Others are serious artists hoping to sell their stuff and get noticed. I met a girl with orange braids who welcomed me- she sells furry hats. I met Serg, a Romanian immigrant who sells ceramic masks and works as a handyman with Craig's List refferals during the week. I met Carla, who sells catnip toys and now distributes worldwide. And Phillip- the masseuse who stands on the backs of his patients in the open air market and shouts to passersby that they should buy ...

So freelance writing is paying the bills. How on earth THAT was possible, I don't know! There are hundreds of self-help books on how to make a living as a freelance writer, and I've never read one of them. It's the kind of thing that's usually a dream, and that people go broke trying. I went broke trying to find a real job, and somehow freelance work is coming at me from all angles. Yay! I have two editors at the paper who give me compliments and throw me work all the time. At first I worried that it would end too quickly, but they seem to like me, and heck, I'm way cheaper than hiring a full-time employee. I might have another editor too, and soon I hope to be writing for some other publications. Today I stumbled into the living room at 7 and put in a couple hours writing and researching before my editors even made it to work. Then I took a shower around 10 as I waited for people to call me back. Around 2 I headed out to Trader Joes, and got a call on my cell. I ca...