route 70

i wish the kids outside making noise would fucking GO to 7-11 already and leave me alone to sit on the deck and stare at those stars. who knew that the sky got that dark? i wish i had a telescope. this might be the closest i will ever get to them. i'm never going to be an astronaut.

the ocean is still pretty. my shirt still smells like the laundry detergent my mom left me at home. my feet are pretty cold and i'm still hating myself for not bringing a cardigan.

as much as i love it here, it feels like my heart isn't in it as much as it was the last time. almost as if i didn't reach the threshold of a personal breakdown enough before i left to really enjoy the vastness of the water i am around. that might change. maybe.

the shell hunting has generally been unsuccessful thus far. i saw many jellyfish corpses, not enough mussels. the wind off the water gave me a permanent chill and now i can't get my feet warm enough. i love marinas and swung on a swing set in front of shoal harbour. i'd be terrified to be on some of those boats in open water. i feel safer in lakes and think that jellyfish are literally terrifying. although the little white ones we saw in beacon were really cute.

i'm on an island and i feel like i am, myself, an island. long distances charges are always daunting, so instead i am not calling anyone. as i elect to travel solo on the majority of my jaunts west, i feel pretty alone at the moment. but i don't think i'd even change that if i could. shopping is always harder in groups and i don't want to compromise. my stress rash is still bothering me even though i am not really stressed anymore.

also, i think i'm actually getting tired of 1901.


i still haven't seen mt baker yet. i'm not counting the view from 40 000ft either. i want to see it from the ground.

i just wanted to tell someone all of that.