I moved to Portland, Oregon.
I was pretty unhappy in my current state of being back in the Fall. Clutter became overwhelming. Direction was wrong…not aimless, but my sight was off. Opportunity was elsewhere. After selling 80% of my possessions, I took to the open road for a little less than two months in October and November in search for my muse and a better sense of self. While the odometer clacked higher as each day hit, there was peace to be gained in solitude…and even more peace to be gained in the better direction I was steering myself.
Where was I going to end up? I didn’t know at the time. Along the way, friends from around the country and I met up for nostalgia and for the breaking-down of what existentially ailed each of us. I’m grateful for these friends. It must be more than difficult not to be able to rely on quality people of your own ilk, for they give perspective and care and love that you just can’t harbor or incubate yourself. If if you try isolation and pretend you’re getting somewhere.
Arizona serves many purposes, but it’s just not a place where I’m going to live anymore. It is my childhood, much of my beloved family, my education, a lifetime of broken hearts, the majority of my friends, the birthplace of my comedy upbringing and creative awakening…but it was time to get out. To the Pacific Northwest I went, and that’s where I am now.
Portland is a thriving city of over 600,000 people (denizens, mainly). The comedy scene up here is becoming something exciting to the effect of late-1980s Boston and mid-1970s Los Angeles, with the only way of being a part of it was to live here. So I packed up the remaining 20% of what I had (75% of it just foolish materialism) and drove my sedan from Phoenix to Oregon over the span of three days, getting here late last week. It’s new and exciting (and rainy!).
Most importantly, I’m going to get some serious writing done here. It’s going to be a wonderful year because I’m going to make it just so, with a clear head and some of this wind at my back.