Sometimes my life in Portland doesn’t seem real. I spent so much of my life in San Jose, and 5 of the people I’m closest to still live there. I tell them about my life, but they don’t have any point of reference for my stories, and they sound listless to me, hanging in the air without context. Fortunately, breaking my leg spurred a rash of pity visits.
Most of them, of course, somehow couldn’t make it until I was able to walk (OK, limp) around and show them some semblence of a good time. Seeing my history in the face of my friend while she watched me sell my art sewed it all together. Past met present. When I broke my leg, I couldn’t take care of myself. And I’ve always taken care of myself. Depending on other people so completely devastated me in ways that I was surprised by.
As part of my post-broken breakdown, I’ve been trying to figure out why I started selling Snarky Cards in the first place. Thankfully, Arlette is sensible and kind. “Because you’re good at it.” She said in between bites of Ole Dirty Bastard (Voodoo Doughnuts completed her Portland experience). “Are you sure I’m not just trying to make up for a shitty childhood?” I asked. “Nope. You like people. And you’re making your art.” She said. She sounded sure. And she is one of the people who knows me better than I do. So I believed her.
Trusting her made me feel light, and peaceful. After I shoved her onto the MAX line to the airport, I floated over to Radish Underground, to see if they wanted some of the new cards Arlette and I had made while she was here. They bought them all. (So, newnewnew Snarky Cards at Radish Underground, now! Check it out! Doesn’t it look like a freaking party in there?) Celeste, who co-owns the shop, has her own clothing line, and we talked about a dress I want her to make, so I’ll have something new to wear selling at the bars.
Afterwards, I had a relaxing drink at The Teazone, where the cute bartender chuckled over the new Snarky Cards I restocked them with.
And I just spent 3 hours getting some new cards ready for the internet. Here’s the first one, all ready for you to send it to your best buds who make bad sexual decisions:
Making my Art, and selling it takes faith. And like all faith, sometimes mine falters. So I need to borrow better faith from my friends.
Thanks to everyone who keeps buying my cards, and telling me stories about how you used them to make your friends laugh, and decorate your fridge, and confront your exes and hit on strangers.
And thanks, Lauren, for telling me that your Mom loved them. I like your Mom. She gave me an Easter basket full of chocolate for Passover last year.