Springing Forward

It's great living somewhere with seasons again.  I love ongoing change, and it's refreshing to have it happening all around me.  When I was in Virginia, I always loved spring and fall.  Spring was so fresh and lush and promising.  And I've still witnessed very few scenes as beautiful as Southern autumn. Spring in Alaska is proving to delightful as well.  The landscape literally changes every single day as the snow melts to reveal new landmarks and colors and curbs.  (Not lines on the street though.  I had reasonably assumed those were hiding just beneath the snow. Not so much.)

The light here is truly amazing.  As I type, it's almost 10:30 and it isn't quite dark out.  I can still make out the outline of whatever island it is I can see from my living room window as well as the last little threads of pink light on the water. I'm realizing that I do not have a strong inner clock and should probably work on that since it's only going to get worse from here. 

To add to the list of things winning me over in Alaska, I'd like to discuss the DMV.  This weekend, I was in and out of the DMV in 15 minutes on a Saturday afternoon.  It was clean, efficient, and had validated parking.  California: take notes.  Or suddenly discover large amounts of oil beneath your surface, I guess.

I've been in Anchorage for 3 months today.  I've officially lasted for a season.  And my life, like the coastal trail, looks so different than it did on January 22nd.

I'm finally starting to feel like myself again on several levels.  My social circle is slowly growing, and I'm back to my favorite habit of filling/double booking most of my weekends and evenings with friends.  Between the warming weather and my new bike, I'm slowly becoming physically active again (and realizing how much the sedentary winter months affected by chubby little body).  I'm finding balance professionally, learning which battles to fight and which to ... postpone.  The weather and I are meeting each other in the middle, as it's relenting and I'm toughening up.

I fall down from time to time; I occasionally have a lazy or complacent day where I don't make as much progress on this life-in-Alaska project/experiment as I'd like, but overall I'm happy with my journey.   I'm as excited to see the changes in myself as the ones I see out my widow.  Every day is a discovery; every day is an adventure.  I'm looking forward to the summer visitors that I have lined up, and I'm so excited to introduce Alaska as my home.

I love DJ

When I was in law school, Diana John did not laugh at me when we did zumba.  She looked ridiculous with me instead.
When I was studying for the Bar, she made me dinner every Sunday night.
When I couldn't find a job, she:

•  introduced me to her mother, who gave me numerous job leads in Sacramento
• gave me the email address to public defender recruiters
• advised me about the hiring practices of the Alaska Public Defender Agency and encouraged me to apply for the job here in spite of how ridiculous it seemed at the time

Now, Diana has landed a kick-ass job as a DA in Brooklyn, is the world's coolest aunt, and is one of my favorite people to gossip with on Gchat.

These are some of the many reasons that Diana is one of my favorite people alive.

Also, she taught me about cake batter shots.

Who says you can't go back?

Alaska is similar to the South in ways I hadn't anticipated.  The redneck culture here is alive and well, and the love for big guns and small government runs deep.  Maybe snow machines replace ATVs, fish and game look a little different, and there's a marked absence of confederate flags, but sometimes I could swear I'm back in Alabama.

Before you cringe and say "I'm sorry," there are many things I love about the South.  The charm and hospitality is so warm and tangible, the comfort food is magic, the men are strong and self-sufficient, and -- I'll admit it -- I was always prettier in jeans and flip flops in the South than I ever was in a lace mini-dress and stilettos in Southern California.

There are negatives that carry over too.  The good ole boys' club has an active Alaska branch, racist stereotypes have their stronghold, and homophobia plays a shameful role in politics.

Maybe the reason the similarities don't bother me as much as I'd expect is that I'm much more comfortable with myself than when I left the South six years ago.  Feeling misunderstood and ostracized was enough to bring me to tears back then, no matter how much support I had from those close to me.  When I first began to question the religious, political, and cultural norms I had been brought up in, the least bit of criticism was enough to make me question my intelligence and moral compass and even to make me feel unloved.

Now, I understand that reasonable minds can and do differ, and I appreciate how resistant people can be to change.  I realize that I took the concern from loved ones and authority figures too personally.  I know that sometimes, when people react out of fear, it can look a lot like hatred.  I've also found that I'm not alone.  As much as the ego-centric college student version of myself thought that I was alone in my newly found principles, I've discovered that I am within arm's reach of kindred spirits no matter where I am.

I've been lucky to find so many here, and hopefully I'm also getting better at seeking them out.  It seems that every time in the last few month I've truly make the effort to reach out, I've accidentally met like-hearted people who are willing to be my friends.  It certainly proved true for me this weekend, when a Habitat for Humanity project turned into an entire weekend of playing and laughing and bonding with women I already feel that I've known a lifetime.  Although I don't yet have a community to rival the one I left,  I have faith I'm well on my way.

For any of my dear friends who may feel alone, I hope I can encourage you to force yourself to branch out of your comfort zone.  Meetup.com has been a great resource for me here, as well as going alone to activities which I would normally have wanted to go with a friend (volunteer opportunities, cooking classes, trivia nights.).  Give the strangers around you a chance to surprise you. We're never as alone as we think we are.