I, Portlander

Every June, I remember when I first lived in Portland (I moved here in late May). I remember how all the buildings looked the same, how there were so many people on the streets. I didn't have a job, so I would just wander around downtown looking at stores. I remember thinking how many backlit signs there were on the sides of the buildings. I remember standing in the South Park Blocks with my best friend at 11:00 am, thinking surely there had to be somewhere to eat late at night in Portland, unaware that the night scene was all in Old Town, a mile north of the black street where we stood. I remember the horribly humid 100 degree heat, and how the sun was so prevalent that nothing cast a shadow. I would take my laptop to Starbucks and watch people go by, while I would chat with my old friends online, telling them what it was like to live in a real city. I remember dating models. I remember eating alone in restaurants. I remember spending entire weeks playing SimCity. I remember writing in my journal every night, really introspective stuff. I remember writing these exact words: "I have no job, I have no friends, I have no future, yet my worst day in Portland is better than my best days back home." Then I remember the first time I caused confusion, talking with an old friend from high school, when I told him I was homesick, but by "home" I meant Portland.

Happy fifth anniversary, me.