It’s 3 years and counting. . .
We came down here for a year, and there is no leaving now. At least for a long time.
Island life has bewitched me, and there is no place I can truly imagine myself, except on an island.
I don’t fit in anymore up there in the lower 48. I go back these days, people are busy and frustrated overall. They have obligations that they hate, and things that they do because they have to. I’m not saying that nobody here does things that they don’t want to do, but the priorities are very different.
Back on the mainland, everyone is very “busy” and very “tired”. They believe that how busy they are determines their worth, and how tired they are is the excuse for not doing what they don’t want to do in the first place.
Simply saying “I don’t want to” has become rude, and lying to ourselves and others has become the norm.
They move around a lot, change lanes a lot, and are miserably frustrated on the road.
And how is it that they can keep their cows in the fence and off the road?
70 mph feels like I am flying a fighter plane.
I no longer know how to drink in the states. I was never actually good at it. Jesus was basically my “driver” for about a decade. It’s come to be completely normal to drink behind the wheel, and respect Darwin’s law, since we are basically a mountain sticking out of the sea.
You fuck up? You are fucked.
Of course, you’re only going 30 miles an hour usually, and slower if you need to, so it’s much less likely to be an issue. If I were keeping score, I’m only one side mirror down.
Do you know it’s only acceptable to have breakfast cocktails at Sunday brunch in the states?
At first, when I am there, I bask in the convenience of everything. Every single trip to the grocery store warrants whatever I want! Oh, and cheap too. I act like Mrs. Gotrocks, throwing anything and everything I haven’t had in awhile or haven’t tried at all in my cart.
I may be spending $300 bucks at the grocery, but god damn it, I have enough food for an army instead of just barely 3 people.
People always look at me funny when I am RAVING over just how beautiful and inexpensive the strawberries are, “Get OUT of here, $3.99? HOW can that BE? THESE ARE GORGEOUS… smell them…. NO, REALLY, GET YOUR NOSE IN THERE”... That is me, at the Hyvee, acting like I’ve never seen a fucking ripe berry in my life.
Before you know it I am sporting “the blump”, because I no longer have self discipline and like a puppy, if it is there? I am eating it.
I’m jumpy about water usage. I get all weird around people who are excessively using H2O. I can’t handle it. A meal with family can send me into a tailspin. “WHY IS THE WATER STILL FUCKING RUNNING?”. It’s not that I am judging anyone, it is that I am now programmed that water is precious.
I won’t lie, the minute I get into a hotel, I do take a long leisurely shower, shaving everything I possibly can, but I’ll never be the same, I’ll never be able to truly enjoy it.
People don’t want you talking to them in the states. I’m not saying no one does, but the ratio is really different. I say “Good Morning”, “Good afternoon”, or “Good night” obsessively as a greeting here. Mostly because nothing would get done when I am out and about without saying it. They take their greetings very seriously here.
People look at me in the states like I am going to take their wallet. And “Good night?”, well, they think I am titched.
Ahh, 3 years, seems to have went by in a blink. The days of velvet breezes, patchwork blue and green waters, new friends, and the simplicity of doing as I please have made me unsuitable for where I came from.
Truth be told, I probably never really fit in there to begin with.