Trailers can be useful.

You can settle for a less than ordinary life. Or do you feel like you were meant for something better? Something special?

A friend recently wrote me and said “what really makes you stand out is how you value relationships above all else. i deeply respect and admire you for that. also for your crazy work ethic, your DIY attitude, and your down to earth unpretentiousness.” When I combine this with my recent musings on the duality of Bryan of the city and of the woods, something feels right.

I’m back to being tired, anxious, and unsure what or where is really up. I spent much of the day sorting email, a bleak reminder of how very much I have to do. I’d rather be playing in the woods.

Jerry’s Pond will always be there. Girls come and go, but memories usually stick around for a while.

I’ve been reading this book entitled Hindsight. I’ve got a few other non-fiction books half finished as well, and when I read Where Cool Water Flow this last couple of days I realized that the other non-fiction I’m reading is relatively hard. The latter is stories from a Maine guide from the Grand Lake Stream region of Maine while the others are nearly academic works.

I suppose I need to remind myself to have faith that everyone will work out alright, and that I don’t need anyone special to be happy with life and who I am. While a bunch of friends sent me birthday wishes today, a handful took the time to write me a note and I had at least three people tell me today that they were glad I was born. Some were joking, some were serious, but I appreciated it. I was thinking today about how unimportant I am to M, and the clarity that lens can give me. Being back in Seattle is strange, and while it shouldn’t take too long to find the city groove again, I’m hoping that I can keep some of the burden at bay.

M once commented on my opening doors being the best part of our relationship. Not literally, but that a cross country road trip, moving to the city, or any spontaneous adventure being within reach with me.

Drinking coffee in the woods, listening to tales being told, I ponder the difference between these people and those on the west coast. My mother offers the explanation that this is a way of life and not just a hobby.

I tend to measure life since around when I left high school. On the eve of my 28th birthday, that’s about ten years. But I’ve been going to Jerry Pond camps for nearly 26 years then. That number strikes me in a way that makes Seattle feel awfully distant. Even with my appreciation for my connection to M, which feels like a diamond in the rough, this makes Seattle feel like an adventure in finding myself, what was already there.

There was a lot of talk of bachelor’s in the area. I realize in my fear of settling I never considered that I’ll simply end up alone.

My phone hasn’t worked the majority of my time in Maine. That’s alright. Headed deeper into the woods tonight, up to T5 R7.

I feel like I’ve squeezed ten years of dating into three. That I’ve come full circle and love is back up to fate, at least the first step.

I talk with Mom’s family about the 1000 acre backyard, think about the land carved out of that where a cabin needs to be built still. I realize I only lived in my fathers house for five years, where he’ll likely die, sooner than later. The family keeps saying he’s holding on to it for me. My grandfather speaks of the 150 acre farm up north, now a tree plantation, and how nobody has wanted it. Dad tells him I might. I’ll look at it today on my way up to camp.

I bought another book at LL Bean, while replacing the camp sleeping bags I took west. It’s about a musician and his family who moved up north and became a Maine guide, supporting his career via the internet in the interim.

It’s nice showing Tori all of this. Over 700 miles driven since Saturday, we’ll break 1000 by the time we go home. I want someone in Seattle to understand where I come from and get an idea of who I am because of it. I’ve mostly avoided the shadow of M from detracting from the meaning of it.

How to reconcile these two lives with a partner? Who would want to live in the woods, how few would understand what that really is, beyond the romanticism?

I feel doubtful I’ll meet that person again. Back to trusting fate and surviving.