Almost Free..

I have written countless times about Oregon Country Fair. Everything about the festival in Eugene, Oregon appeals to me. The utopia-esque cooperative volunteer environment, the music, the dancing, the amazing food. But most of all, the undeniable feeling that I belong.

So many people I know and see all around me have their little cliques and social niches. The metal crowd has their spiked bracelets, Iron Maiden t-shirts, and spiked or slicked down black hair. The clubbers have their short skirts, halter tops, spike heels, and bass-heavy music. I could go on and on. Always people who seem to fit enough criteria to be labeled a certain way and fall in with people just like them.

And then I find myself, who manages to have a lot of little pieces that don't add up to a whole classification. Most people call me a hippie, which I certainly respect. However, I'm not a full out natural, Grateful Dead listening, hair-dreadlocked, nose-pierced, vegetarian hippie to the max. I eat meat, I wear a little makeup, I work for "The Man". Hell, as far as most of my coworkers are concers, I AM the "man". I'm not affiliated with any specific religion, ethnicity, or community.

But I digress. My point is that Oregon Country Fair (heron in referred to a OCF) is where all that melts away. No one there gives a crap if I load myself up with makeup, or throw it all in the garbage. I've dressed up as a fairy, an egyptian, a princess, and all sorts of other things just for the heck of it. I've danced with people 1/3 of my age and 2-3 times my age. I've sang in the sauna and played in the sun. All the while, never fearing judgement. At home, I find myself crying because I don't look like girls at some random keg party: thin, high alcohol tolerance, commanding attention from all the guys in the room. At OCF, I have people I don't even know come up and tell me I'm beautiful inside and out. I've given hugs to dozens of people wearing "Free Hugs" signs. I've gotten up on stage and performed with vaudville acts. I am who I feel I was always meant to be there. I smile, I laugh, I work my ass off and feel damn proud of it. I don't take my work "home" to my campsite.

This year has been especially hard. Matt's condition isn't getting any better and I feel like everyone is putting pressure on me to find some way to fix him or find some other partner. Work is more demanding that ever, and I find that no matter how much I try, I've worked 48+ hours a week. I fear my phone ringing or making a text alert noise since 85% of the time it's something about work.

I just have to make it Monday and Tuesday at work, then it's home to my Fair family for 5 wonderful, freedom filled days..