the Mothership

Oh Colorado.  The trip back to the mothership was a whirlwind of food, beer, music, family and friends with a very noticable absence of our good friend sleep.  I think we are still recovering from the adventures.  I also learned a very imprortant lesson.  Nothing is as grand as you remember it.  FoCo, you know the place i idealized in my last post? Well we went there and we drank beer and we saw Chaco clad, non-hipster people riding their cruisers and I realized that maybe this place wasn't as perfect as I remember it being.  Something about the town seems a little less awesome than my memories made it seem and I'm guessing it has to do with a little thing called growing up.  I never want to be a person who will lives in the same place their whole life.  FoCo is not where I'm supposed to be anymore.  That was my home for all those years of my life, now I'm moving on.

ANYWAY...  Our trip was packed full of sports, parties, beer drinking and yeah, not sleeping.  Here's the evidence:

My besties in FoCo

At the Rockies game

John Butler Trio at Red Rocks = heaven!

9th row!!

Too much balderdash

Yeah...

We look a little tired.

Unfortunately Idealistic

I am going to Colorado tomorrow.  I'm visiting the friends and the family, gonna show Mark my life pre-quarter life crisis/ move to Oregon he never got to see.  It makes me nervous to go home because I know I am stepping back into my past life and the life I only have the fondest memories of.  I think of Fort Collins now, after living in Portland for a year, as the perfect place to live.  I loved riding my bike to work, knowing people everywhere I went, not seeing herds of hipsters with their skinny jeans and men's tank tops, but more herds of hippies on cruisers.  And Chacos. I don't know why, but I miss everyone wearing Chacos and hats and that that was perfectly acceptable Friday night attire.  

It seems silly now that I think about it.  I moved away from a place I knew I loved.  I knew FoCo would be a hard place to beat, but still, for some reason I left.  Maybe there was too much history there, with too many people.  Not enough promise to keep me there.  Or maybe I was running away. Yeah, that's probably it.  I was running away from a heartbreak, from too many years in college, from a bad relationship, from a job I was bored at.  It worked I guess.  Out of sight, out of mind.  But what now?  I never thought location would matter so much in the overall satisfaction of my life.  Not that Portland is all that bad- it's finally sunny here and I am never without some event to go to or restaurant I haven't tried yet.  I'm meeting awesome people everyday and I have that one guy named Mark who is pretty great.  But I just don't fit here. I'm not connected to this city the way I was to FoCo. And that's probably my fault.  I haven't found my niche, my place here.  

Life has a funny way of working out and I know this will too.  I was drawn to Portland but never had a reason to be.  I just knew that's where I needed to go (whether or not leaving for the right reasons) and so I went.  It took come big cahones, and I have not regretted it, even for a second.  Even in February when I hadn't seen the sun in 9 months, even when I was broke and hated my roommate with a passion.  Things happen for a reason and even though things are not going in the direction I wanted them to go, I know that right now, in this moment, I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.  

Unfortunately, writing this blog isn't helping me get packed.  So, that will be the next place I am meant to be.

Funny yet actually inspiring

Thank you Diane Matthews for introducing me to this one...

Good advice...