Sunday, July 28, 2024

Expanded Horizon

"Omaha, somewhere in middle America

Get right to the heart of matters

It’s the heart that matters more." 


~ Counting Crows

Of all the places I imagined we would end up when we quit our little mountain town and headed out into the world in a pop-up camper, Omaha, NE, wouldn't have even been on the honorable mention list. In fact, I would even go so far as to say it was on our "definitely no" list, for various reasons.

Yet, here we are, with everything, which took multiple trips over the last month. We are one probate court date away from being completely removed from California. Two years ago the possibilities were endless, and we were wandering around in search of a place that felt like home, and people that felt like community.  We obviously didn't find that in the time allotted by the universe before we found ourselves once again in the very place we were trying to escape.  We met some amazing people in San Diego, and our lives evolved dramatically, but we never really fit there. Once San Diego spit us out, our options were reduced pretty quickly, as well as time to decide on one.

Our options were basically reduced to Colorado, which is rapidly evolving into all the things we don't like about California, and Nebraska, which has some of the best schools in the States, so our deciding factor was the fact that our up-until-this-point homeschooled girls wanted to have the school experience. That, and the obvious cost of living difference. Needless to say, we were excited for our girls to have an experience that they wanted, but not necessarily excited to be in this specific place.

We are making the most of it, to say the least, still a little overwhelmed with the move and unpacking and starting a new job and getting all the final probate paperwork in order. I would give the probate process 2 stars out of 10: do not recommend. That second star is only there because when things do happen to work in your favor, it is borderline orgasmic. Aside from that little release of dopamine, it is miserable, much like many other things in life, for many other people. In a strange twist, I would highly recommend Omaha. 

It is refreshingly hilly, and the people here are all suspiciously nice. I'll write an official review after winter, but for the time being I am excited to explore here and learn the deeper history... maybe get inspired to shoot and write again... which feels like a distant, delusional past, a kind of made up reality that we create to compensate for all the mundane shit in life... but that creative life still aches in my soul like bullet shrapnel that the surgeon couldn't remove, from an epic event that I can't remember. I'm not sure I know how to do that when I feel like everything I've done is wrong to some extent, and my experience is negated by how I'm told things are supposed to be.

I feel betrayed by myself, and every choice I've ever made, but now I'm looking at the landscape of a new world, where no one knows my name, or where I'm from, or what I did, or why I did it. I don't feel the need to defend myself here, or explain things that most people don't understand. I feel free to just be me, whether you like it or not. I can just be a grey clown amongst these shades of brown. I can smile, and people smile back. I can acknowledge the strangers who wave at me without assuming they think I'm someone else.

Here we are, back again at the place where we have infinite potential, not limited to what we're told. This city is not that big, and the traffic is not that bad, but to some who live here, it is almost unbearable. 

I think you'd better turn your ticket in,
and get your money back at the door.

Everything will always be as beautiful as you want it to be.

Here we go.


*These photos are obviously not from Omaha, but from our stop in Oceano last year, where Weston shot Charis. In an ideal example of how my creative drive has been stalled, I held on to these photos to attach them to something written and significant, but nothing ever came, and now I feel the need to write something, and I don't have any significant photos to go with it. I went straight to Peru after this trip, then to San Antonio, then Grandma passed, so many things to write about, but I'm still staring at video from our first trip into the unknown two years ago feeling as if I've been crammed into this creative void, where nothing looks or feels quite right.