The Evergreen State

I have an affinity for approaching my destiny

from the southeast.

Take my hand

and we will turn in the wind,

spin with the needle,

meet our fate and move headlong

into the great northwest

I wrote this little snippet of poetic prose about five years ago in a black leather journal. I was on a train bound for Belgium. On that train I had realized that my travels through Europe seemed to revolve around a strange coincidence. Whenever I was lost, confused or bored with a place, I would move on. This happened often seeing that I was decidedly and gleefully lost throughout my European travels. I never knew where to go next and I loved it. Whenever I found myself in these situations I unwaveringly discovered, often after the fact, to be traveling in a northwestern direction. It was never a conscience decision but a mere happenstance of my unplanned travels. Somehow, being in a foreign land without direction instilled in me a subconscious drive to stubbornly attach myself to a set route of travel. Something unexplainable compelled me to gravitate northwest.

The entrance to the train station in Brugges is covered in murals that stretch all the way to its vaulted ceilings. The centerpiece of the mural that graces the front wall is a compass. The needle of this compass is pointing northwest. I smiled wide upon arriving in Brugges. In that moment I felt as if I were exactly where I was supposed to be. I reflect on this experience now because I once again find myself in the great northwest. And again I feel as if I am exactly where I am meant to be. It is a supremely satisfying sensation and I hope you all are granted the opportunity to experience it in your lives.

Katie and I are currently in the state of Washington and are roughing it in ways we previously thought impossible. We sit here tonight, our bellies full of steak, king crab, and wine, in reflection of the recently past trials and tribulations of our mobile life. Mere hours ago we were trapped on a dreadfully comfortable island outside Seattle where we wasted away sipping beer at country clubs on the beach while Sarah hand fed us blueberries. We stressed over the anxiety caused by brisk afternoon hikes, naps in Steve’s condo, and strolls through Seattle’s farmer’s market. We even had to suffer the wrath of Katie’s painfully kind and hospitable family. Even today, after our grueling two and a half hour drive, we were met with aggressively jovial and pleasant conversation while being forced into taking cool and relaxing dips in the pool. Tomorrow we face torture and torment at a beautiful lakeside beach in the most agreeable weather god has ever bothered to muster. Life is hell and I blame Washington.

Washington; the name of our first president, our 42nd state, and a lesser-known generic brand of adult diapers. No matter when or how it is used, the name represents comfort, support and honesty. Today, as I occupy Washington State, I am feeling honest and I must say that The Evergreen State lives up to its name in ways California never could. Seriously though, fellow Californians, where do we get off calling ourselves The Golden State? We all know that the “Golden” Gate Bridge is a gross rusty orange color and that our “Golden” beaches are actually brownish-grey, covered in seaweed and smell a lot like a $3.99 seafood buffet. Nobody has made a living off of gold panning since 1873. Time to update your profile, California. Let me tell you something, the Evergreen State is super ultra green and looks to stay that way forEVER. Washington, I salute you.



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