The Reasons I Moved to Oregon
a. Ghost Train Haze was named the most potent sativa strain in the world. In West Eugene, one could, say, if they so choose, buy a “pre-roll” joint of aforementioned champion strain for $6 at a dispensary that opens at 8 a.m. and shares a parking lot with a perfect espresso shot pulling walk up coffee shop. Perhaps, if we’re speculating, one could then mosey the 3 blocks back home, face to the perfect wind, salty sea air braided with whispers of conifers and evergreens, running one’s fingers along rows of bamboo so tall and wide they make the aspens quake. You can then, hypothetically, sit on your porch in your soft sandals with your hips stretched from the brief jaunt and you could sip your coffee and smoke just an teensy weensy little bit and of ol’ Ghosty and about 15 minutes later, you would perhaps, probably, likely find yourself lunging toward your computer, desperate to write (allegedly).
b. For me and my mind, body and spirit, there is no antidepressant in existence that takes place of the healing powers of CBD & THC and for perhaps the first time ever, it’s possible to enjoy marijuana for recreational purposes (as one enjoys a cold beer or two) rather than solely as a coping mechanism for last-night anxiety.
2. The state offers expanded Medicaid a.k.a. health insurance for everyone pretty much no matter what your income. I first experienced healthcare through expanded Medicaid in Denver, and I’ve never received such remarkable treatment in my life. Healthcare is a human right, so I moved somewhere which reflects that value of mine by actively putting that value into practice.
3. Oregon’s weird. There’s a lot of weird fucking people here. I don’t stick out in the slightest and it’s nice. Eugene in particular is like all the characters in my imagination got together and decided to build their own sort of Roger Rabbit Toontown / Exchange City in my honor and then lured me here under the guise of you only live once.
4. I get the chance to start fresh in a community. I love getting to know those people whom you’re not quite friends but sort of like, regulars, in one another’s life. The cashier, the budtender, the trash man, that guy on the corner, the barista, that one particular booth at farmer’s market, the venue owner, the community organizers…I like knowing where the obscure spices can be found, and who sells the most beautiful dishware, and which artists are currently underdogs but are going to skyrocket in the next few years, I just know it. I long for a future for more residencies. I have applied for jobs to work with homeless youth so I might meet more likeminded people in ways that help me grow and fulfill my desire to serve those in need.
5. Look. I haven’t posted pictures because there’s too many people suffering – this is not the time to brag – BUT THE WEATHER IS GOD DAMN PERFECT HERE AND I’LL FIGHT ANYONE WHO DISAGREES. Lol I walk, EVERYWHERE. I work in the park at least 3 days a week, a small cooler, a picnic blanket, there are always more trees than people, the moisture from the river cooling the wind. I’ve not bothered to Google WHY and I can’t remember anything from college or high school Science, but the humidity here isn’t a Midwestern wet blanket. It’s an agent of peace. It keeps the air cool and we are in love and probably gonna get married, me and the wind.
6. Jaden wanted to be here. She has always dreamed of living in Oregon, in Eugene. She gave up a lot to make this happen. She took a lot of risks. She put a lot of faith and trust in me. After all, I fled to the West Coast (alone) at her age (27) and I was scared shitless basically the entire year I lived in San Francisco but I fucking did it! and if there’s a tour guide you want, it’s the one crazy enough to have taken on the mountain alone a time or two.
Jaden and I, we banded together and made a lot of really intense, intimidating promises to one another and there’s really no way to get out of them. We have to see them through, because my success here is dependent on her success here and vice versa. We can both expand our mutual and individual dreams here. We’ve made investments and commitments and our cats are in love. We read the brochures about training to be whale watchers and how to volunteer with the organization that you call (instead of the cops) to help people who are dealing with substance use or mental health crises. Yeah, you read that right. You don’t have to call the cops here. You can call an organization that knows what they’re doing because they’ve been trained in these fields and people get the actual help they need and the cops can do they’re real and only job, which is to maintain the peace and protect citizens.
ANYWAY… Jaden could go back to school here. So, could I. We could also open a competing thrift store – animal adoption center BECAUSE THERE’S ALREADY ONE HERE AND HOLY FUCK WHAT A GREAT IDEA! I don’t know how we’d give them a run for their money, but I’d be down to figure it out. There’s a lot to see and do here. Everything is green and stimulating and easy on the eyes. There are no laws in West Eugene, just explosions of fruit trees and vines of fresh grapes. There are too many apples here. No one could eat them all if they tried. There are brambles of blackberries in every direction. We steal them by the fistful and eat them on our walks. The sky’s the limit here.
7. The violence of Kansas City’s streets became too much to bear. I alone witnessed 2 murders and 1 drive by shooting in a month’s time. In Eugene, I’ve barely heard anyone raise their voice.
8. I always wanted to come back to the West Coast. This time I treated it more like a gift I could give Jaden. We were living so meagerly before that when PUA and grant money rolled in, it became possible to repair or replace nearly everything in our own personal junkyards. And when all the adulting was done, I looked toward the future. I had a feeling that students wouldn’t be returning to campus and housing would be more widely available. I had a feeling we could have a grand adventure camping all the way across the country until we got here. I wanted to challenge myself to do something I’d never really done – enjoy the great outdoors, make the most of this chance to exhale from the 24/7 grind of entrepreneurship. I had a feeling this place in particular would feel like home for me, for her, for us. And it does. And it did. We got the first apartment we looked at, the one that’s like all our apartment dreams come true. AND FOR THE RECORD, can EVERYONE collectively PLEASE stop discouraging other people from moving someplace magical with the phrase, “But it’s so much more expensive to live there.” Please, just shut up! You know what’s expensive? Dying young and slowly of a heart condition because you spent your life stressed out in a place you didn’t like all that much because your job was there or your family was there or it is where you’re from or what the fuck ever. Please, be happy where you are. I do not begrudge anyone their conscious choice. But keeping other people from pursuing their dreams by provoking financial anxiety as an insurmountable obstacle that no one should dare broach – is bullshit. I will ALWAYS be a small-town farm kid who listened to every god damn country song about a girl escaping to California as if it were a promise. I set my watch by that promise. I waited round the sundial rather impatiently for the day I could make a break for it – and I would’ve gone a whole lot sooner if everyone who’d attempted to dampen my dreams with their insecurities and microaggressions, had given me $20. The statistical odds I’ve defied as a poor, queer, woman, a multi-tiered violence survivor, substance abuser… the number of times I should have been dead or incarcerated it a bit too much to think about for too long – but I know the truth. I’m lucky to be alive and if I have figured out how to survive THIS LONG through THIS MUCH, I’m sure I can figure out how to pay a rent increase of $300.
9. I just wanted a fresh start someplace I could imagine buying a house where wildflowers grew recklessly across the modest landscape and I could raise a child or two who went to school with kids whose families looked just like ours and there would be art and music and dancing, laughter and sunshine and that impossibly cold, vengeful ocean just an hour away so that I might be reminded of my miniscule place in it all when my fragile ego gets my heart broken, as its been prone to do on a regular basis since the dawn of time. It really is a gift, a relief, even, to stand on the edge of something mighty and know that no matter how hard you strive, you will never be as powerful or influential as the ocean and that’s ok, because it’s not another ocean we need; it’s you, it’s me, just as we are.