Special Zest for Life

I will be the first to admit that I can sometimes take teasing a little too far. I like to laugh, I like to make jokes and since I don't mind laughing at myself I too often assume that others don't mind either. I know this is only an excuse, but it's hereditary; my whole family (especially the original four - my mum, dad, brother and me) enjoy a good tease. I have spoken to both of my parents about this, "don't you think sometimes we tease too much?" and I am always told, "no, it's all in good fun". But it always has to be admitted that not everyone grew up in a house full of jokers.

More than a joker I am also at times painfully sarcastic making it difficult for even those who know me best to tell if I am serious or not. I cannot even begin to recall how many times I have had to say, "I know it is hard to tell, but I am being serious right now".

Perhaps more than anyone my boy bestie, Peter, gets the brunt of my teasing and sarcasm. I cannot tell you why because I absolutely adore Peter. He is truly one of the most generous and genuine friends I have ever had. I have only known him for a relatively short two years, but sometimes it feels like I've known him my whole life. We often bicker like an old married couple but there isn't a doubt in my mind that I would go to the ends of the earth for Peter and that he would do the same for me, without a second thought, without question.

One of the many reasons why I admire Peter is because of what I have proclaimed his "special zest for life". I wordsmithed this phrase while we were touring Wisconsin and I was able to see my state for the first time through someone else's eyes. Peter has such an exuberant optimism about life that I envy. At times I feel old and beaten down by life when I am with him because I cannot fathom being so utterly optimistic, so youthfully zealous.

What makes this quality even more awesome is that despite the relative subjectivity of a difficult life, Peter has not had it easy. He has faced adversities and hardships I cannot imagine handling, and to make it through with eyes that are able to see the world as his do is so uniquely outstanding. It is if as though he is only able to see the good. While I am focused on the dark clouds, Peter is able to point out the small patch of blue off in the distance. And more than that he is unabashedly unashamed to express his complete and utter joy for the thread-thin silver lining.

And while I am haranging him about being so over-the-top I am secretly wishing I could acquire just a quarter of his special zest for life.

Front Loading Life

While considering a move back the eastward way it has come to my attention that I have perhaps front loaded my life. What if I peaked in my mid/late 20s and now it is only downhill from here? Certainly this has not been my intention, but I also do not intend to spend the rest of my life vagabonding about from city to city in search of adventure. I do not want the sum of my life to be the cities I have lived in and the amount of times I have moved. Yet, I fear that to settle (down) will be to resign myself to a life of boredom. I will spend the rest of my days suffering from a chronic case of itchy feet.

Last night I tell this to my mum whose response is "maybe you will find new adventure with a husband and kids". I immediately think, but do not verbalize, "maybe I will find a cure for cancer, too". At this point in my life that is about how realistic a husband and kids seems. I am still not convinced that path is in the cards for me.

I spend the rest of the evening contemplating that perhaps the larger issue here is that I am still stuck at square one. Shit.

Forward

I love to learn and am always on the search for new and interesting facts (mostly so that I can use this trivial information to impress and/or bore people). Recently, while perusing the rack of post cards at the Cheddar Head Store in La Crosse, I learned that the state motto of Wisconsin is "forward". I turned to my friends, also Wisconsin natives, "Did you know this?" Ben says, "Yeah, it's on a statue at the court house (or some such governmental building)". Hm, apparently I had missed this little tid-bit, but I was excited by my newly acquired knowledge and tucked it away in the back pocket of my mind.

However, as my dad and I traversed the country on my way back to Portland, I kept thinking about this word forward. Leaving my family and friends in Wisconsin and Minnesota had been especially hard this time, and my heart was feeling pretty heavy. Over the past few years I have slowly begun to rediscover how beautiful the Midwest is and how blessed I am to have been raised there. Yet, I always felt that moving back "home" could only mean I was moving backwards. This is something I have always refused to do in my life; I have set my focus on forward movement and tried never to look back.

But now as I review my short list of places that I would like to move, and the list of pros and cons I have mentally made for them all, the list of cons for Minneapolis is the shortest. In fact, it only has one item on it: winter. Perhaps moving "back" doesn't mean moving backwards after all. While it might mean moving through snow it feels like it might be the most forward movement I've made in years.