What am I even doing?

I could easily make this one of those intro posts where I tell you who I am and what I am doing here but I will forgo such traditions. Why? Because I am a chaotic creature whose train of though is constantly switching rails. To know me is to experience me. And to experience me, well, just stick around.

I enjoy writing but I can't keep on one story before I start a new narrative, eventually I will let that one runs its course and circle back to the original. Sometimes stories I was in love with just need to be put away for a bit, so the stories don't become forced. Every artist has their process.

Consider this a declaration of intent rather than wishful dream.

I need a change. In 2021, I moved out of a (now ex-) friend's house. I wasn't thrilled moving to a city as I was a country kid at heart. Creek stomping, hiking in walking distance of your house, and weekends at the campground. For YEARS I ran from it. Finally, after 10 years of running, I am going to go back. Anyway, back to the city bit. As I said, I wasn't thrilled about moving into the city but I tried to think of it in a positive light, like it was an adventure or something. I would regularly walk along the river, go to niche little coffee shops, wander around and try to take in the local culture, ya know. For the first few months, I enjoyed it, for the most part.

It was spring, the trees hadn't grew its leaves back and it was rather drizzly a lot of days. I remember my first week in this apartment I was elated. I was riding couches and crashing at various places for a couple years and it was wearing on me. I needed a place to stay that was mine and nobody could take away from me. And, honestly, the guy I was living with was dating this insufferable toxic positivity of a human who's voice was grating, but that is another story. I tried to think of shows like Friends or Seinfeld and thinking of the romanticization of living in the city, imagining myself as an artist looking for their muse.

The first few weeks were rainy and a bit dreary, but there was a sort of beauty to it, so I didn't complain. There was something charming about walking by the river in the rain and going to a little pizza shop for a slice after. I figured I could get used to it. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of, how I feel, is two of the worst years of my life. I have been at my lowest mentally and financially. I've felt completely stuck and hopeless. The spark that once ignited my creativity was replaced with healthy does of cope-ium in the form of random hobbies. I would scrape serotonin of the dirty walls of my dumpy downtown apartment.

I want to go on record and say that I was grateful for it. I was riding couches and couldn't get accepted for an apartment to save my life, so having a place of my own was a welcomed relief. I guess I really shouldn't be complaining but the bad outweighed the good. Not only for my situation but seeing how poorly people in this city are treated. I have seen the unhoused removed and tucked away in a corner of the city nowhere goes to "keep the image" of Harrisburg clean, which, by the way, isn't made better with the removal of aforementioned unhouse. There are tons of abandoned buildings that could easily either be refurbished for affordable housing, but that is another post for another time.

Now that my days in Harrisburg are numbered, I am tasked with downsizing. It won't be bad, I have tons of stuff that I haven't looked at in years. I will get through.

Until then, thanks for joining me on this candid look into my situation. Until next time, next time you see someone hungry or sad, give them some food. It would mean everything to them