i feel like a bizarre world traveler lately. Like I should be staying at home and staying still and doing the logical and predictable recent graduate thing of working really hard at a job that is lame and feeling really confused about my life.
But instead I get this opportunity to travel around and go visit all these amazing people and conferences and places. I am collecting and gathering and trying to understand it all more. and, feeling rather privileged about it and trying to justify that, which isn’t terribly useful or productive.
leaving greensboro, nc. i’m not sure when i’ll see this place again, although I definitely said that last november. As i was leaving (wishing there was an ocean on one side so that I could orient myself, figure out which tree is which, which street is one I know or could know, where my friends are, where I fit within that vague abstract landscape shape) I was really mad at that place, at somewhere that I could put so much energy, love, friendship, time into and yet i still can just leave. How can a place a tree a house a sofa a cd you’ve listened to on end since last may not remember how much you’ve loved it? how can it just keep existing and housing new people and holding up other people’s butts playing songs over and over without knowing you have left?
anyways, before this gets too dramatic, this post is reporting that i’ve made it here to the westest of all west coasts, about as far away from lovely south florida as I could manage within the continental United States, in Portland OR. I’m in someone’s house, and they all seem very friendly and nice and my friends both in the other room (traveled from Boise, ID and Montreal, CA) and somewhere nearby apparently but basically I’m just very happy that I trucked my sleeping bag 3,298 miles across the country and that I get to sleep in it tonight.
Goodnight universe. Tomorrow is going to be so incredible. Tonight will be sweet dreams about art and friends and west coast hotties.