The Summer Blues

I don't know why I tend to be really whiny on this blog, because earlier this year, all I did was complain about how depressed I was in Moscow/Pullman.

I moved down here to Phoenix, and at first, life was amazing.  I was so free, I was looking for new, exciting jobs, I got to hang out with all of my old friends again, I was living in the sunshine, there were a million more gays here than I was used to, many of whom immediately took me under their wings.  I felt like I was living the life.

Something has gone horribly wrong.  I think that all of that stuff was like living on an extended vacation in dreamland, because it isn't the reality of life here.  Most of the people I spent so much time with at first kind of got bored with me once I was no longer shiny and new.  I have a job at my favorite restaurant in the city, whom I was elated to receive a call back from, so I am thankful for that.  But now I've sort of fallen into a sad routine where I've realized that I work in food service among co-workers who all seem, in variant ways, to be extremely miserable with their lives as well.  I enjoy the exercise I receive walking and biking to/from work, but with that comes all of the homeless people and rude drivers who seem to be intolerant to the very idea of pedestrianism.  By that, I mean, I often feel like people are annoyed that I am not also driving, and I nearly get run over on a daily basis.

On top of all of the near-death that comes with living car-free in Phoenix, Arizona, the city is so vast and spread out, that I am very limited in my range of travel, and I am guaranteed to be a sweat-drenched beast upon arrival to any destination, regardless of the distance.

I just really want to be happy.  But I don't feel like I know anyone here who actually is.  I catch myself slipping into a slump of negative thoughts, and I don't understand what's happened to me.  I miss how I was when I left Moscow.  So idealistic, optimistic, uplifting to all.  I'm really afraid of becoming one of the drones around me.

I ventured back to Moscow, Idaho, last weekend, as I had promised to do.  It was SUCH an amazingly fun and friend-filled weekend! Everything came back to me, being around my uplifting circle of people.  I was immersed in love, friendship, philosophy, and beauty.  It simply was not enough time.

Up there, I have friends with whom I will just go on long walks and discuss life, treading along the train tracks until we're far out into some golden fields.  We're the kind of people who will be walking along and see something unique about a building and stop to admire it, or point out the brilliant red color of the leaves on a tree and appreciate that moment in time.  Here, I have no nature.  Lots of pollution and cars, cars, cars, cars, cars.  No Main Street to meander along.

Also, while I hate how the elements always ruin my shoes, and nothing is worse than having wet socks, I also do not like that it is way too hot here to wear a cute outfit.  I don't like wearing shorts all the time. Maybe when I was a child or something, but not these days.

I can't believe I'm saying this now, considering the content of many of my past entries, but I now gravely miss the Northwest.  I miss the eco-friendly frame of mind that is ubiquitous there.  I miss gay marriage and marijuana being legal.  I miss nature.  I miss the progressive, liberal attitudes.  I miss being able to picnic with friends, whether it's in a park or alongside a river.  I miss people who chose to be where they are and are happy about it.

Also, can I please point out that while there are millions of Mexicans here and Spanish is very widely spoken, it is not spoken by white people, and the divide between the two cultures is palpable.  I haven't even been to a Mexican restaurant since I moved here, and all of that was originally part of my incentive to come! I literally eat 100% more Mexican food when in Idaho than when in Arizona.

So, please tell me: Am I unhappy here because I'm letting myself be? And then allowing it to feed off of itself? Did I adjust to the Pacific Northwest a little too well after living there 5 years on my own? Have I not given this fair city enough of a chance? Would I be crazy to consider moving to someplace like Seattle or Portland or Boise in hopes of finding a better fit? Do I have a "grass is greener" complex?

Regardless of anything, I don't regret moving down here.  I never regret.  Had I stayed in Moscow, I would've been miserable.  Had I never come here, I would've always thought so highly of Phoenix and wished that I had, or I might've just done so at a later juncture in life.  At least right now, I'm not attached to anything, and I'm young, so I can afford to bounce around a little bit.

Anyway, I have just been in a sort of deep-seated funk about this for several weeks now, and I don't want to be negative anymore.  Any advice will be much appreciated.