The thing about living in a city and blogging about it all is that I don't know what to write about. In Missoula and Moscow, it was always easy. On a day to day basis, there were maybe one or two things that stuck out to me as interesting enough to write about and pick apart. In a city, I want to write about every single thing I see. I want to write about the traffic and aggressive manner in which everyone drives, I want to write about the way the city looks as I inch closer to it on the boat, I want to write about the faces I see every single day that are never the same twice, I want to write about the interactions I have with people in every shop I go in who tell me their stories, I want to write about what everyone is wearing or doing on every single street corner, and I want to tell my every story.
There's a lot to write about. There's a lot to think about. My brain is bombarded with information and every little thing I do is an adventure. I don't have to make an adventure out of going to Walmart at 1AM in Missoula because just walking one city block is enough to write 1,000 words about. In fact, when it comes to the end of the day where it's just me, a floral couch, my pen and journal, I don't know how to write it all down. I feel like everything I'm documenting through writing is doing it all a massive disservice. The lady who owns a tea shop from Japan on the corner of Pine and 3rd isn't just funny, she's a Lorelai Gilmore mixed Mrs. Doubtfire; mothering, understanding, quick as a whip, blunt, and carefree. And more! The skyline doesn't just shimmer when I leave the city every day, it flickers with the reflection of the sunset and the water and mirrors the excitement of the people below on the boardwalk riding the ferris wheel and eating at Ivar's for the first time. It's brimming with things to talk about. It's not so much of a problem as a huge and brand spankin' new challenge.
Can I record this city and my life in it for 3 months accurately? Can I tell its stories and do it in a way that I can look back in six months when I'm back in school and remember the moment I felt inducted into the city by way of high-fiving a man for making the commuter boat with twenty seconds to spare after sprinting across the terminal in shared rejoice? A common thread with another person I've never met but share what is a huge chunk of our days that is commuting and catching the right boat's so we are on time for things? So when we high five it's like a I get you and your happiness right now completely and I know we're both thinking about the extra 40 minutes we have in our night to read a book or make a nice dinner kind of thing when we make eye contact?
I don't really know. I just know I like to blog as if I'm the only one who cares about what I'm saying and writing it all out so that it means something to me in the hopes that if I can enjoy it, someone else can, too. This is an adventure of a lifetime and I want to blog as much as possible even if it means I'm posting every single day. Hopefully it's not boring. Hopefully it isn't just personal as it is relatable. I really don't think too hard about these things and I guess I only am now because my blog has been the same for the past three years and I wonder if it's about to change with me.
Or maybe it won't. Because like I said, I'm here to lay it all out honestly as I have always done. Including the moments I mess up and accidentally call a mister a missus and apologetically explain to everyone around me that I'm from Montana and don't know what I'm doing- though, as I'm realizing, no one really freaking cares. I'm a number. I'm anonymous. I'm a little itty bitty piece of nothing that will get my car towed if I'm not careful, be charged with a $90 parking ticket for being a minute late to my parking meter, or get lost in the wrong part of the city after the buses are closed with no one to call to give me a ride back to the boat terminal.