I do adore portland. I really do.

but something has truly caught my eye since I’ve been here. and I am not entirely sure how to put this into words. but I’ll try. it’s amazing how much people care about little meaningless things, like their cup of coffee. how much portlanders feel good about bagging their groceries in paper, riding a bike to work and eating quinoa. everyone feels like they are caring their part to save the planet. I used to be one of them. I never took stock of this before, I never noticed to such degree before, but looking at it as an outsider, it truly seems a bit ridicilous. removing myself from the city that thrives on the frontlines and progressive thinking of climate change and sustainable living, kinda makes me notice how little the rest of the world gives a shit. and how uneffective we really are.

living in montana makes you truly give up a lot of things. things, as it turns out, you really don’t need. it’s nice to eat good food, visit art galleries and buy jewelry, but I can’t help to feel so removed from it. I just don’t care enough anymore and find a large portion of what used to draw me to portland, pointless. I feel like I care about real things. living in a city doesn’t feel real to me, though it surely seems very real to everyone else. I find myself compelled to learning the art of hunting, killing and butchering, because it seems like an important skill to know. I want to buy firearms and learn how to fill/make my own bullets. because it seems like something I should know. I never thought I’d quite say this, but I love living in a western town with a 4 block main street, where the bar jukebox plays mostly country.

this has probably been the most enlightening week I’ve ever spent in Portland. the most productive in a sense. somehow I am really doing stock of my life here and looking at it from this perspective, I am grateful and relieved I made my escape. that I truly saw and understood that there is a different, much easier, and calmer, way. I have a spent a lot of time seeing old friends, catching up with people, and I can’t help to feel like I sound like I am bragging. I don’t meant to, but how else does it sound “yea, I work about 10-20 hours a week as a graphic designer for myself, I ski patrol a bit in the winter and was a river guide this summer.” how else do you explain to people what it is that I do and how it’s possible I can go to Finland for two months. in the world I live in, it’s completely ordinary to leave seasonally. it’s also completely normal to live out of a camper trailer at the ski hill, the boat yard or the grass lands. it’s totally normal, and kinda sweet, to not have furniture as much as having a garage full of boats, bikes and skis.

one friend told me I was too old to live out of an airstream. another told me how brokenhearted she was because her boyfriend wouldn’t grow up and move out of his sailboat and buy a car. she wanted to fix him, and the dude is only 34. does he think he needs to be fixed? whither the answer there is yes or no, does he then want to be fixed? should he be fixed? and, really, why are you so convinced he needs to be fixed, and what are you fixing him from? I get this sense, being in Portland, that a lot of people don’t know and can’t imagine that there is another way to living and when I tell them my story it sounds unreal, like a dream of sorts. I have always regarded portland as such a free thinking, progressive city, and it is, but with in it’s certain confounds. there are limitations to the process.

looking at it from here, I live an amazing life. seriously.

the run in with my ex was kinda amazing and I’ve thought about it a little. I am proud of myself that I let everything go, that I had the courage to not only walk away, but to completely change my life. I have made lots of bad choices, but some of the fundamental choices have been really good ones. seeing the drama he was surrounded by, and feel sorry for the girl who is now in the middle of it, made me feel like I won. I had won a long time ago, but I didn’t see it until now, well, I haven’t thought about it anymore. so much time has passed.

despite my little identity crisis, infused by serious bouts of depression, I have found my way again. I have made a lot of choices about where I am going and haven’t let anything or anyone truly alter my path. I am incredibly grateful that I have stuck it out with my incredibly selfish ways (as I have been told a time or two by ex boyfriends), because who’s fucking life are you living if not your own?

so, order up! every dessert on the menu and a bottle of champagne all to yourself! because you never know when you might not get to again. I took a hike in the oneonta gorge with a dear old friend this week who has been diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. he was somewhat physically challenged with some spots, he pushed through just fine, we took our time and hung out. it was great to spend time with him, he has always wanted to do the hike (as have I) and finally got to do it with me. he appreciated going with me and not his usual care group. I appreciated going with him. he told me he loves his life. it made me incredibly happy.