3/19/23

As promised, a part two.

 I'm really only doing part two because I got too lazy to talk about everything I wanted to last week. This week is going to focus on the feelings, the movements, the emotions, and more details, because I know if there's one thing the people want, it's more of Christian talking about his feelings. :) 

The unfortunate thing is I'm definitely going to mention some things I already mentioned, so consider this somewhat of a requel, if you will, to my initial post. Not necessarily only a sequel, but also not a complete rehash, a requel. 

So Phoenix sucks. We knew this, we know this. However, I didn't always feel that way. Christmas break of 2021 was rough, as was the following Summer because I had become so attached to being in Arizona and seeing my friends every day and almost always having something to do. But when I returned after Christmas break, it felt like a resurgence. I spent a month away and coming back, I gained a new perspective and a newfound appreciation for the life I was building for myself. When I went home again, in the Summer of 22', I distinctly remember crying, repeatedly, because I felt so out of place. Spent a year making friends and memories, building habits out of my morning walks for coffee, and doing homework on the patio of a nearby park, and then very abruptly being brought back to my childhood home where everything is different and I no longer have friends and can't just go out and do whatever I went, its a very de-realizing feeling. But unlike coming home after Christmas break, returning last semester was no longer a coming home feeling. On one hand, I physically wasn't in the same place, I moved out of the dorms and got an apartment further North. The view wasn't the same, the lighting wasn't the same, but worst of all I now faced North, so I couldn't even see the city I had become so attached to. Mentally speaking I was no longer living in the same city. And since then, I've been clamoring to figure out why that is. Why did I love it so much and now I can't wait to graduate and leave? One of the main reasons is the people. The number of stale memories I've made with the wrong people that now tarnish the good memories I had made months before leaves a sour taste in my mouth every time I walk outside. Who am I going to see that I don't have the energy to? Which ex am I going to see getting out of the elevator as I get in and we pretend we've never met, resulting in a half-hour panic attack about all the people I've trusted that I should not have? It overpowers the positive, and I hate that. I know I'm capable of seeing the good in things, and what's more, I know at one point I loved Phoenix, and what's more, I have no other option but to do what I can to love it while I'm here. So "The Plan" was born. A plan to remove myself from the equation for a short period of time, and allow me the time to gain a new new perspective, so that when I returned, it would feel like coming home. 

When we embarked, it didn't even feel quite real yet. Whether as a result of the plan changing so close to its execution, a lack of time to plan the details I wanted to, or simply the headspace I was in when it came to, by the time we landed in Oregon, I had yet to even process what my week was about to look like. However, I think it was Kate's excitement to show me her hometown, the shops, and the stories that came with, it that allowed me to accept where I was and appreciate its uniqueness and differences from the scenery I absorb every day otherwise. By the time we had packed and left Oregon, I was only excited. Beaming from ear to ear every time a mountain range appeared in my view, I knew, regardless of how the trip went, it was going to feel amazing not being home for a week. And the further away we got from anywhere either of us had been, the "perspective" I was hoping to gather was slowly clicking into place. On one hand, we can all acknowledge how good a vacation feels, and that feeling is largely what I was experiencing. Getting away from the same daily activities, and I mean the same, my day-to-day is exactly the same, almost to a T, every week for an entire semester. Same classes, the same work schedule, same tasks I do to fill in the blanks. And by simply not doing that, I was already halfway to the point I needed to be at. On the other hand, and in correlation to the first hand, doing these same tasks, walking the same roads, and talking to the same people, your worldview becomes so small. That's something I think so many people, in college and especially afterward, struggle with more than anything. A University itself is a community, but for the most part, it's usually very large and you have all the opportunity in the world to do pretty much whatever you want. But in my experience, and I know multiple people who have fallen victim to the same thing, I'm on an even smaller campus. A smaller community, a smaller population. And every single one of us does the same things for fun, and in a smaller area, we go to the same places with the same people to do it. Our options are limited, and life slowly becomes an echo chamber, comprised of people who you know so well you've genuinely run out of things to talk about. We put ourselves in a bubble, focusing so hard on having fun where we are, we, or at least I, tend to forget how much else there is out there. That's why the second I saw a pine tree, a stream that isn't in a concrete canal, or an animal that isn't a pigeon, it immediately brought me back to see, literally, how large the world actually is. 

That's why even though everywhere we went was absolutely stunning, California and Washington meant so much to me. You spend enough time only in Phoenix, you forget how diverse plants can be, how big the mountains are, and how clear and blue the natural water can be. Washington and California were the most far, visually, from where I am in Arizona, and it was an instant click in my head that I was seeing things I'd never seen before. The sheer mass of redwoods is actually insane and as cheesy as I know allllll of this is, seeing real, uncut, genuine, natural nature is one of the most humbling things I can experience. Seeing trees I can't even wrap my arms around reminds me of how small I am, and how big the rest of the world is. In the echochamber (this is how I'm going to reference Phoenix from now on) it's hard for me to remember how much I still have left. I'm very difficult on myself because of how much I want to accomplish and because I'm pretty aware I most likely won't be living for very long, I'd give it another 30 years max. So when I'm in the place I am where I feel like I'm going nowhere, experiencing nothing I want to be experiencing, it's difficult for me to remember how much life I have left to do it. But then I leave, and I see physical representations,  the redwoods, of how large a life is, how many different lives I can live in a single lifetime, it feels refreshing. Because up until this point, your life is effectively prepared for you, and as ready as I was, the realization that you're now 20 years old and fully in charge of what you do with yourself is genuinely terrifying, and sometimes you need a break to remind yourself that you're allowed to have fun and do things that aren't about progressing your career. 

Things got bad once we got to San Francisco. Prior to this, I was entirely focused on the natural world. The views and landscapes feel like a painting that could never exist in real life, and that dissociation was greatly appreciated while it lasted. However, when we got to San Fran, the vibe changed drastically. Now our views are other people's lives. Their homes, their walks to work, and their group of biker friends that take up the entire road despite there being a designated bike lane. And all I felt was jealousy and a good amount of resentment towards myself for moving across the country and picking The Echochamber as my place of residence. I wanted to move to San Francisco. The overwhelming feeling of longing, longing to experience the kind of life everyone there got to experience. Simply put, the layout of the city is simply better than any other city I've been to, but what's more, the lifestyle there was so refreshing, especially coming from a place whose lifestyle is daygers on a Tuesday night and what should be an organized Buzz Ball cleanup crew every weekend. And yes I know the grass is always greener, but I think this moment opened my eyes a little bit to how I can enjoy my life. I like variety, that's why I get so affixed to new places like San Francisco because it's known, and why I end up wanting to leave wherever I am after a few months and my cute little daily activities become grueling tasks that I already did yesterday. I think the main cause of this is my parents' divorce (lmaoooooooo). Growing up I never stayed in one home for more than two weeks at a time. Now I'm living in one location for months and months and months. And I could see that San Francisco offers variety. Modern downtown with glass skyscrapers, beautiful green parks with just the right length of grass, and cute neighborhoods to fantasize about moving to with small family-owned cafes, sushi bars and produce markets on every corner. There was enough there that I could see myself not getting bored with it anytime soon. Also now finally clarifying, things didn't get worse when we arrived in San Francisco, but the point of the road trip became skewed. I didn't want to go home anymore. Yeah Camano Island is gorgeous and it was everything I wanted, but the closest coffee shop was a 30-minute drive to a Starbucks at a strip mall, and I can easily appreciate the natural world while I'm there without a deep-seated longing to live out the rest of my life there. That changed in San Francisco, I wasn't seeing the trees and hills that I longed to frolic through which would allow me a greater appreciation for my life when I returned to my warm bed. Now I didn't care about my warm bed, I didn't appreciate how big the world was, and I wanted San Fran.

Then the trip continued and everything was fine. By the time we got home, I was ready to be home. I won't say it completely changed my view on Arizona and I love every second I live here, but it did what I wanted it to do in the long run. It made me feel what home was. I got back and went for a walk and got coffee which I always do, and felt happy doing so. Above everything though, it took the pressure off my back. There is so much else in the world beyond what I can see, even when on a road trip, we only saw four states. I don't need to be killing myself because Im 20 and not a known designer yet, Im 20. And I have all 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25 to continue building my future before I need to be depressed over a lack of moving in the right direction. I'm cutting myself off at 25, if I hit 25 and I don't have a nice little life in a pretty city and a stable job that I somewhat enjoy and can see my best friend at least once a week, I'm giving up and joining a cult. 

I hope you all have a good start and the rest of your week. Song suggestions for today are El Alfa, please listen to El Alfa, La Romona with Bad Bunny is probably one of the littiest songs. My neighbors were from Puerto Rico and used to blast El Alfa every Sunday morning when I would be doing the dishes with my window opened so I could listen and I will always love them for that. I also have been listening to Korn a lot recently, especially Falling Away From Me, oh my gawd. I love you all, have an amazing day, catch you on the flippity flop.

~Christian Reid