I've been thinking a lot about my life lately, and while I'm generally happy, something is missing. I can feel it in my core--an ache that I have to push to the back of my mind or else it would bring me to tears. I have never thought of Humboldt as home. Southern California has such an undeniable pull on me I can hardly stand being away. I miss driving through LA at nighttime, it always made me feel so mournful. Me sitting peacefully in my car, surrounded by the bustle of uncertainty. Was the girl in the car next to me an aspiring actress? A writer? An ed
itor? A porn star? Maybe just a student, like me, struggling with her future? When I lived in Ventura whenever I felt like this I would just drive to the Rincon, just as the sun had set and the lights of the oil rigs were coming on. It was so lonely and beautiful, and everything got put in perspective. Although there are many places up here I can go to figure things out, none are as comfortable or familiar to me as the other two places are. It seems to me that here in Humboldt county, everyone cares about what I'm doing, whether I am drinking from plastic water bottles or metal, if I'm destroying the environment with my gigantic truck, or whatever else they see wrong with my lifestyle. While this all may be true, and So Cal people are not as conscienctious about surroundings, they butt out of my life, for the most part, and when they do put their nose where it doesn't belong, it is from a place of ridiculous ignorance, I don't even listen. My problem is, what are these people doing about what they preach? Just by rubbing patcholi oil behind your ears, not washing your hair and smoking pot, you aren't really doing anything! Where is the money you are giving to help wipe AIDS out from Africa? Are you joining the peace corps to irrigate Latin America? Have you ever donated a goat to a starving woman and her family in Zimbabwe? No. Neither have I, but I'm not fussing about what container you drink from. I do not smoke pot, and therefore I do not fit in with this culture. Although you are beautiful, Humboldt County, you are not where I belong. And then, more pain. When I leave here, how will I be able to leave all my friends and my job behind? Will I one day be sitting in my house in Ventura county or wherever I end up, longing to be back, sitting under a redwood tree, smelling the skunky aroma of marijuana and watching the rain fall all around me. I don't know.
2 comments:
Yes, you'll be blogging about Humboldt County one of these days, reminiscing about real memories you have of this place, running with your dogs on the beach, eating in the Chinese Buffet with me, all the three-dog nights, even walking that woman's dog. Ah, these are the days, the simple carefree life.
I hope I am not the one dissing plastic bottles just because I am currently enamored of my metal one. I promise I will never wear patchouli!
"When I leave here, how will I be able to leave all my friends and my job behind?"
Do you think you will really leave here? Is it a good idea to go back instead of forward?
I wonder if being a student has given you a skewed perspective of life in Humboldt. For me life didn't really start until I was out of school. That's when I realized that most people don't do drugs and I was finally secure enough to tell people who told me what to drink from to get lost.
Plus, this is almost a tale of two cities. At the Co-Op I'm asked if I want a bag for my food purchases. At the Safeway everything is tossed into plastic bags just like in Southern California.
...and instead of wondering about the girl in the car next to you, isn't it more fun to speculate about the girl in the truck next to you?
Are you the Lucy I formally met today? If so, thanks for taking such good care of my girl Ruby.
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