Coming Out of the Clarkson Closet

I was a closet Kelly Clarkson fan.

American Idol premiered my senior year of college. I saw pieces of a few episodes and saw enough to know I hated it and everything it stood for. My friend Dee, on the other hand, was a huge fan, so I heard Kelly beat out Justin via the TV in Dee’s Mom’s minivan while we were stuck in traffic moving out her college stuff.

Dee, of course, bought her first CD and I rolled my eyes every time we listened to it that summer. But by album number two, Kelly was winning me over. And I found myself, a few years later, one slow Friday afternoon admitting to my cubemate, Casey, that there was that one Kelly Clarkson song I kinda liked. He, in turn, begrudgingly admitted to digging one of her tunes, too.

Casey and I are both music snobs and so this mutual admission was sorta a big deal. And the follow up online search to figure out which two songs we actual liked was on the side of scandalous. So much so, that when a team manager walked in and ask us what we were doing, we both averted our eyes and turned brilliant shades of red.

I came out of the Clarkson Closet in 2011. Sure, I had been spotted cranking I Do Not Hook Up on rental cars radios since it dropped in 2009, but I made excuses, like, “all the stations in Dallas suck, this was all I could find to listen to.” But I couldn’t admit the joy, nay the inspiration, Kelly provided until a few years later.

And then I discovered Catch My Breath, and people, I’m here to tell you, this lady gets me.
In this one catchy ditty, Kelly and her composing team of Jason Halbert and Eric Olson sum up the trust/truth journey I’ve been on for the last couple of years in the way only a pop song can. And I can admit that now.

This song has become a bit of an anthem for this section of my journey. I have indeed spent the last 6 months laughing hard with the windows down, leaving footprints ALL OVER this town, keeping faith and, because I’ve felt a little like life has been sucker punching me, remembering to catch my breath and then letting it go. Because you know what, no one can hold me back, I ain't got time for that.

Boromir and the Portland Summer

When spring officially faded into summer on Thursday evening I was walking through the South Park Blocks listening to The Classic Crime song Vagabonds. It’s a song about loving a city and loving living in it.

“People can't get enough
Of living in the darkness and the rain
But when the sun comes out
The streets are filled with songs
And people playing it loud
So the whole world can sing along”

OK, I know that this song is about that other Northwest city, but it still applies. I LOVE Portland and the streets WERE filled with song as I left my friend’s apartment and walked the 10 blocks home in the twilight. Summer is here and the sun will soon come out and stay out for three long glorious months. We have been waiting. We are getting kinda stoked.

In Portland, we say, "If you don’t like the weather...maybe you should leave because this is how it is." Well, that’s what we say in late February when it’s rainy, cold and forever dark because we get like five hours of daylight. Notice I did not say sunlight. The light we get is filtered through heavy gray cloud blankets.

In late February we don’t tell those weather whiners about Portland’s spectacular summers because in late February, we only a few vague memories of the sun. We remember that once we frolicked in parks without dodging random hail showers. Those few precious memories we hoard.  We guard them and keep them close and use them to strengthen our belief that we deserve those three glorious summer months.

We negotiate with our unkind, selfish selves that will use those months for good, like cycling or kickball. We tell ourselves that only we, the ones who know the long months of weather misery, can wield all of that unbridled sunshine and temperature perfection.

We put in our time! Those months are ours and ours alone!

We get a little Boromir and the Ring about it.

OK, so in the dead of winter we’re a tad dramatic. After all, the five hours of daylight and miserable weather have forced us to retreat inside reading books, watching movies, and playing board games. Drama happens.

In October, however, when the memories and effects of long cloudless days filled with sunshine still linger on our minds and on our skin we say, “Yeah, the never ceasing rain and the darkness can be brutal at times but it’s all worth it for the summer. July, August and September are awesome.”

Today is the first full day of summer and we are on the cusp of greatness. We’ve already quadrupled booked everyday of every weekend. The joyful anticipation is building. July 5, you’re Portland’s unofficial first day of summer, we’re waiting for you. The weather’s been sort of weird this year, don’t let us down.

I'm a Liberal and other Admissions

In a conversation with a friend this fall, she admitted to me that she was a lesbian. I admitted to her that I was a liberal. “Feels good to say it out loud, doesn’t it,” she said. Later that evening I sent a text message to a mutual friend that read, “We tossed around a couple of L words this afternoon, mine was liberal."

The deal is that I knew this about my friend, not because someone outted her to me, but I just kinda knew. None of us are as good at hiding our true selves from one another as we like to think we are.

Still, my friend didn’t have to tell me, but it was good that she did, for both her and me. I don’t know why, but there is something powerful about verbally admitting who you are, even if everyone else has known for a long time. So here I go:

I’m liberal. I agree with a lot of left wing ideas. This is counter to the culture I grew up in. This is also counter to the typically publicized Christian culture of which I never had any part. As a Christian, I’m more than OK with that.

I’m a geek. This is tougher for me. There is a part of me who, growing up, wanted to be a Kelly Kapowski level of cool. I was not. I am not. I love Doctor Who. I recently pulled my pub trivia team from 9th to 7th place because I know that Anikin’s home planet is Tatoonie and that Mike Tyson raises pigeons and I know this not because I’m a sports fan, but because I’ve read multiple books on pigeons.  I read The Hobbit and the Lord Of The Rings trilogy for the first time last month and really enjoyed it. I am currently obsessed with Gilmore Girls and I can kick some serious Settlers of Catan ass.

I’m loud.  My voice, my laugh and sometimes my clothing demand attention.

For most of you none of this is a shock, just as my friend coming out to me wasn’t. But for me, admitting these things is a big deal because it means I own them. I identify with them. It means that I am further defining my shape. I’ve spent a large part of my life trying to fit my life into other people's molds of acceptability. I am not going to anymore.