The Foreign Country of Oregon

I am now living in Portland, Oregon. I feel like I am in a foreign country, or something. When I first moved to SoCal, I felt that way, too. So, maybe I am just now returning to what really is the United States. As much as I love Cali, it is like no place else in the world in both good and bad ways. I HATE the Hollywood/celebrity bullshit. I have an intense dislike for the traffic, exorbitant prices of everything, and skewed values system. But I love the weather, the beaches, the shopping, and the boys! And now I am Oregon. With all the hippie tree huggers. I have turned into a SoCal girl and wonder if Miss Materialistic over here with her tan, blonde hair, and blue eyes will fit in. The city was name the second greenest city in the world, and first in the United States. In other words, it really is the Granola Capital. I have never seen so many fucking Priuses in my life! But there are some great things about living in Hippie-ville I have discovered. You can walk everywhere! And there is free public transit downtown. And it is beautiful and lush and green. Things are reasonably priced. People are nice and friendly. And, as mentioned before, NO SALES TAX! I arrived in Portland Saturday afternoon after not going to sleep Friday and two straight weeks of drinking. I was going fucking insane not working and not being a productive member of society, that I regained the social life I so desperately missed under the Wrath of Chrysler. I meet up with friends, hit South Coast, sat by the pool, and drank...a lot. It's not like I had anything better to do! Anyway, so needless to say, I was exhausted when I finally got here. The movers were not coming to deliver my belonging for another day. I went for a run and explored Portland a bit. I am not sure if I like Portland yet (I think I do, but it has only been like two days!), but the Portland boys seem to like me! The number of catcalls and whistles I got made me wonder if these boys had ever seen a female before, let alone on in a skirt and tank top. I wasn't even in my apartment building for five minutes and I got two invites for drinks. Of course, because I am a magnet for the weirdos, they were not the type of guys I would want this attention from. Why can't the normal ones go for me?!?! So I stocked up on Corona and the first season of Entourage. I fell asleep reading on the floor by 10pm...I'm cool like that. And yesterday the movers came! Yay! I discovered almost all my boxes were labeled clothes, handbags, or shoes. I am not sure what that says about me, but there were also a number labeled books, so I do not feel so shallow. I decided I need to get rid of some of the Corona and started drinking. I hadn't eaten and already gone for a run, so I became slightly inebriated quickly. The initially zest for unpacking soon waned, and productivity plummeted. But I still made some progress. The first thing I had to unpack was the shoe collection. My new apartment has this wonderful little closet (I think it is supposed to be a coat closet) that just so happens to be the perfect size for my shoes...talk about a sign from above that this apartment is meant for me! I thought I had unpacked all my babies, when I realized my pair of tri-colored suede Stuart Weitzmans were missing. I freaked the fuck out. This mission took hours to complete (and productivity sky-rocketed...yes, I know, I am MBA super nerd). I had to open EVERY single goddamn box and found it one that was labeled clothes! Clothes! Shoes are not clothes- they are the life-giving essence of my existence...well, maybe not, but I love them.

I have been reunited with my shoes, but my apartment is a big huge mess. It is bad. There are boxes, packing material, and clothes everywhere. But it will be okay.

It is weird to be in a city where I do not know one person. Moving to Toronto and Oxford, and then Malibu for school was different because we were all in the same boat, starting a new shared experience. There was a group of interns in France waiting for me when I arrived. OC was close enough to LA that I could drive up every weekend. This time, I do not have any of that. I am really here...on my own...with no one. This will be an adventure!