It's been a while since I've walked the streets at night. I do miss the semi-quiet embrace of the dark. It's almost like a velvet blanket, wrapping me close. But oh how it makes me feel even more lost.

The rows of houses seem so comforting, but it reaches the uncanny valley quite quickly. It rolls down the mountainside, ever destined to that floor where embrace becomes envelopment.

Yet I sigh. One cannot let these kind of things get too close to the soul. I like to think of this place as a cartographic maze; a labyrinth which spirals into its self, but cannot seem to find a way out. The identity of the suburban town does not retreat after completing its journey to its core. It simply keeps looping in circles unable to make its final, defining connection.

And so I am stuck here, listless, wandering and observing. I know there is more for the eye to see, but it is difficult trying to live in the happy medium. A friend told me quite quaintly: "It's a strange town. There is no access to life as in the urban area, nor is there the solitude of a rural area. It truly is a 'sub'-urban area, with a happy medium for many, but an off-kilter balance that cannot swing in either direction for us."

The Map of Trees and Fields Through the Houses

Today I wandered.

I found the blurry boundary between county and city. The spot where the suburbs are slowly creeping outward, through the remaining fields, slowly popping up, and colonizing with its shaped topiaries and curved lanes. Planned everything. Sidewalks. Roads. Lots. Playgrounds. The monotonous houses only broken by a reversed room or a bend in the road.

Yet, I felt more at home here then I have within the city. It reminded me of Pickerington. A new growth on the land, not quite realizing how to fit in, but not unwelcomed either.

Spread. Radials. Loops and Twists. I guess that is what living in a suburb is like? I never have, but I've seen them enough to guess.

Beside the houses were fields of clover and alfalfa. Nearby was a dairy barn, with an active sign warning against cows crossing the road. The sun shone, and for a second I glimpsed the hills of Southern Ohio. I went into an autopilot for my car, instinctively rolling with the well known curves, only to be interrupted by another development, which I wound around.

Eventually I hit the end of the road at a private gate to what amounted to a super mansion in the valley below. That is the thing here, the roads always end. There is no wrapping around to take a left at another T in the road. No curves winding down the old canal route. The only roads that don't end are the Interstates. But those are no fun to drive on.

See, in Ohio, you can take one road, and it will keep going until it T's into another road. You can then take that road forever, until it T's with another road. And if you drive around enough, you will loop (albeit it takes about an hour or so in the country).

Here in Washington, the roads just.

There are no convenient roads to take you through the pastures here. There are no "T" signs, only Dead Ends. One road goes on, and on, and on, but no loop to get back. No easy to see grid with county and township roads going on forever. Its a "come back the way you went in" situation, seeing everything twice.

I take large loops whenever I can. I get out whenever I can. But I've been out everywhere my little car can go. I've covered all of the roads that actually continue, and don't just. end. The only loops you can make are in the city blocks cluttered with houses and buildings.

The murky lines marauding around county and city are one of the few reminders. The sliver of agriculture still shining in the narrowing valley of the Columbia is the closest I can get to home.

Settling In.

These past two weeks have felt like a whirlwind which would never end. I've traveled more places, and seen more things, than I ever had expected. I was able to be a kid again, and enjoy the wonders of the natural world with my family; responsibility free.

My grammar let loose, and my silliness resurfaced, and it felt like a true "vacation" for me. I taught and showed, and participated with no previous judgment or anticipation or preparation.

It felt like we were on our summer vacation again, in the tradition of the days when I was a kid.

I don't know exactly what to call my feelings right now. It isn't "normalcy" because this wasn't "normal" but it was content. Enjoyment? Comfort? Familiarity?

Whatever it was, it was so... Unconscious. I was living without realizing it. With no worry or fear. I never realized how quickly two weeks could go by.

Me showing off my feminine side.

Seaside Beach

Mt. St. Helens from an overlook.

St. Helens from the Johnston Ridge Observatory

A nifty Auto-Awesome photo added by Google. I think it looks pretty cool for a kayak shot.

I choose the "Indecisive- Wavering" on the menu, and this is what I got. Classy Vancouver. Classy.

I now am back to the grown-up life, working the 8-5 job, making the money, to pay the rent, to live in the house, to go back to work, to try to make the world a better place. Its a weird thing, being a "grown-up". So many people tell me they haven't grown up, but I think many people's lives fall outside my basic definition of being "grown-up". Being an adult, to me at least, means having to do things all by myself. I wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean the room, buy food, keep up with my well being, all by myself. I never seem to do all that unconsciously. I am always struggling to do those everyday things.

When my family visited, I didn't have to worry about the everyday laborious tasks. They were taken care of for me (thankfully! My mother could have easily had me do laundry, cook dinner, and clean, but she didn't.) I didn't have to worry about the essentials, therefore I could focus on the auxiliaries. The having fun, the running around, the enjoying time with my family. It really brought me back...