(originally published 08.17.2007 postscript: I wrote this when I was broke and didn’t know how to pay for my operation)
So I flew in last night from Oakland and still trying to settle into my parents’ house. I still haven’t unpacked since I moved here from SF and I figure why should I when I’m moving to Seattle in a month anyway. Yet, I do have a couple mics and midi chords missing that I really should locate within my mess of bags and boxes. It was nice being around my family again and especially in my humble house. I didn’t realize just how working class we were until I had to hang out with so many academics from both ivy leagues and public ivys for the whole summer. Also my trip to SF made me realize the friends I had made there were fairly well off, especially my friend in Oakland who had this huge building with over 20 rooms (a converted art studio space/building thing) filled with pieces from “cutting edge” artists, gigantic walls, all wood floors, and amazing ceilings. What made it strange was that it was in the middle of West Oakland, a section of town known for its poverty, crime, and gentrification of historically black neighborhoods. Still, visiting with her and my other friend whose family owned a building in lower haight, really drove home the point that my family really has been struggling to get to a reasonably comfortable working class lifestyle. I feel lucky to have this upbringing, and feel lucky to have the friends that I do that always ground me and make me sure of my identity even around such opulant and quasi-cosmopolitan people. It’s not like I blame my “rich” friends but coming back to Portland intensifies our differences, economically not just culturally, and clarifies the bonds between my Portland friends and myself even more so.
