Dispatch from the Longship of Glory

Truly epic weather has descended upon Portland. These days, my commute typically encompasses me on my bike, descending the long slope of Hawthorne Blvd. into the river and across the bridge, and then ascending the long-buried watercourses that Portland's downtown core has long since stratified into a grid of asphalt streets and paving bricks.

Tonight, Odin the All-Father thought best to send a mother of a storm from over the seas, lashing the bridges with 60 mph winds and rain that bites with chainsaw-teeth. There are streetlights that toss on the wind like ribbon right now. Stormclouds are rolling across the skies. Trees are swaying exultantly. Walking indoors with soaking raiment and helmet emblazoned with soaked leaves and twig-scratches, it's like disembarking from the longship of glory.

Recently I realized that a lot of my friends process things verbally, and I don't necessarily do so, and that this might be why I constantly feel as though I put more energy into my friendships (paradoxically enough) than I get from them. Usually this is okay, but I must needs be careful to avoid the habitual resentment and frustration that seeps into things whenever I usually feel as though I'm being taken advantage of (damn chauvinist pride won't let me suck it up and be a chump every once in a while). (Point being that it's important to recognize the friendships I choose, and that the personal cost of friendship is a choice I must own.)

The whole time I was fighting and climbing against the wind and rain, I could not stop smiling. I hope this weather lasts a good long while.



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