My realistic fantasies of Portland are that it will be different from here. It will be a change. It will not be what I have become accustomed to. The weather will be different. The scenery will be different. There will be new places and new experiences. There will be more public transportation. There will be more nudity, as there is a nude bike ride every year. There will be more beer, as Portland has the most microbreweries of any major US city. There will be more professional sports games, as they have more professional sports teams than I am accustomed to here. There will be more liberal-minded individuals, as Portland is one of the most liberal cities in the nation. There will be more legal suicides there, because it's the only city in the nation that has legal suicides (which was what attracted me to the state in the first place).
I can't say for certain if it's gonna be more fun. It might suck. I can't say if it's gonna be nicer. Cuz it might suck. I can't say if I could legally smoke pot there, because now you can't (I don't think... it's hard to tell with that because it's still illegal on the federal level, but it's been "decriminalized" on states levels... I dunno... it's legal in Washington, but not if your the Feds... it's weird...). I just don't know about a lot. It is certainly more expensive to live there, which is going to be the case almost anywhere we go, because we're living in one of the cheapest places to live in the nation. And that, honestly, is one of the few attractive features about where I live now. However, living in a cheap place and being surrounded by what we're surrounded with is like being given a free steak dinner every night while swimming in a septic tank. Sure, you get free steak every night. And even while you're eating steak, you're swimming in shit.
There are too many things that I don't know about Portland, and I don't think it will be possible to learn about Portland until we move there. I visited New York before moving there, and it wasn't anything like visiting. I didn't visit Detroit before moving there, and it was fine. I certainly enjoyed living in Detroit more than I enjoyed living in New York. And Portland is different from both of those and will have similarities and differences. I moved to New York without a job and struggled. I moved to Detroit with a job and didn't struggle as much (although I still struggled). I would like to move to Portland with a job in the hopes that it will reduce my struggle.
All of that is to say I've thought about it, I've done the research I know how to do without going to the city, and I'm about as ready as I can be to move there knowing that my move there is about 5 years away. So I'm not living in a fantasy world. I know what I'm doing as much as anybody ever does. And things could suck. And if they do, I'll change.
However...
I would prefer to think of Portland like I do when I fantasize about it. It's nicer that way. Makes me smile. In my fantasy of Portland, people are kind and they don't gossip. They're loyal and friendly and open and free from judgment. They are exciting and adventurous and honest. They don't judge me or my wife or my kids or my mom or step-dad or any friends I have now or have there. They are understanding. They are accommodating and helpful. They are good people. They try to be as well-rounded as they can be, gathering as much information as they can before making up their minds. And they're open to changes. They don't allow one noisy person to influence them blindly, like a preacher or Rush Limbaugh (who the fuck names their kid "Rush" anyway?!). They aren't fanatics about anything. They are fans of a lot of things. **Time out-- a Star Wars fan knows a lot about the movies, books, comics, action figures, the next movies, etc. A Star Wars fanatic will judge you if don't convert to Jediism and constantly ridicule you if your midiclorian count is too low. Fans are okay. Fanatics suck ass. Time in.** Despite the higher cost of living, it's not as difficult to live as one would imagine. Relaxation is possible and occurs often. I like my job. Fuck, I love my job. I have a comfortable home for me and my wife, who is also comfortable and happy. My eldest lives close by, and he is comfortable and happy. My mother and step-father live close by, and they are amazed at how comfortable and happy they are, too. They were skeptical, but have quickly become converts. Weekly I meet them for beers or trivia, or just dinner. Sometimes we do something special. Birthdays are fun, because friends come over. That goes for everybody's birthday. My kid has friends come over special for his birthday, and my wife's friends drop by when they want to celebrate her, and they do it comfortably and in a way that doesn't embarrass her and makes her feel good. She doesn't feel like she's gotta vacuum the couch before she can be seen by people, because she's comfortable with who she is, vacuumed couch or no vacuumed couch. She knows she's accepted and loved. My mom and step-father have a good, loyal group of people who hang out with them and make them feel as special as they are. They go places with these friends, and randomly stop in and see me, my wife, my kids, just because they're in the neighborhood. My youngest moves to the area to go to college at a university known for it's ties with Nike (who supports their football team) so that his father will pay for it while completely leaving out the fact that his mother and I are moving there, and once he's there he completely forgets about his father and his father dies in a fire over and over and over again, every day, no matter who pees all over him and in his open mouth screaming for relief but none ever comes and he's entirely abandoned by everyone on the planet and every day he is set ablaze anew and is completely consumed with pain and torture and horse piss that doesn't put out the fire and continues to blanket his meaningless existence with pain and torture and horse piss as he continues to be the poster child for partial-birth abortions. And Portland forgives me when I get that way, because they know I'm still hurting about it, and they would like to see me without so much pain, but they know I must do that alone and they can't really do much except sit next to me while I cry in between the high school lockers. And they sit while I cry. And they're there when I stop crying. And they hug me and give me a beer and tell me it's gonna be okay and they're not going anywhere. And they mean it. And they don't go anywhere. And they don't persecute me for my beliefs, and they don't persecute my family for theirs. And the air is fresh and clean. And when we get there, pot will be legal and cheap and great. And the amount of relaxation I will experience will be unrivaled even by Jell-O. **Time out-- the band Green Jell-O had to change their name because the Jell-O corporation said they didn't have permission to use the name Jell-O. Same thing happened with Chicago Transit Authority, except that wasn't a corporation, obviously. Same thing happened with Mozart Southwestern Bell. Time in.** And my wife and I will snuggle, often and freely, in a comfortable swing, or sofa, or bed, or something. And we'll cry a lot because we're so happy. And then we stop crying and we just snuggle.
Yeah, that's where I like living.
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