Downtown P-Town.

I've been living in Portland for coming up on a year. Only recently have I begun to trench myself out of my apartment to venture within the city. I don't know what it was that's kept me--my old relationship, stubbornness, fear, or maybe an overall sense of discomfort in this area--but regardless, I'm expanding my independence.

Having traveled internationally a few times by myself, I know that sense of feeling completely unshackled and unchecked; as though I've been dropped into a brand new world where no one knows me, and anyone I know is infinitely far away.

Going downtown lately has imbibed me with that feeling. Every restaurant I pass looks unique and exotic, strangers say hello to me on the street and I have no clue how to respond (this is America! who the hell says hello on the streets?) I walk for hours and just peruse the area and get caught up so deeply in the experience that I forget I'm alone. The pestering thought in the back of my head informing me of my own suspected mediocrity is silenced and only before me is another street block I haven't seen. A bridge to cross. A dive bar with tired locals whose daily life I've stumbled upon seems permanent and repetitive, but no. Not mine. I'm a tourist simply passing through, getting a drink before I head back to my 1 bedroom hostel, 25 minutes to the west where I spend every night.


I write when I go on these adventures. I haven't written in months, but these nights are invigorating. Poetry is flowing again. Creativity is brewing. My camera lens is freshly cleaned. And a blog...well it might be about time for a blog.