same as it ever was

I touched ground in PDX on May 27th. That means I’ve officially been living in Portland for six whole months. From my 21-year old perspective, that’s a damn long time. Since then, I’ve gone through about 40 containers of plain nonfat yogurt. I figured if I ate enough of it the flavor would grow on me. I still don’t like it; it’s tangy and, well, plain. On the other hand, I’m still going on the same bottle of hand soap, which either means I’m frugal with my resources, or I don’t always wash my hands after I pee.

Anyways, thinking back on my time in the Pacific Northwest, I realized that I'm torn by two sides. On one hand, I love adventure. For me to fully have life, it’s all about new experiences, places, people. I want to be somewhere long enough not to be touristy and learn some of the ins and outs of a new world, but also short enough to challenge my mind and soul from getting stale.

I grew up a Boston kid, but I applied to colleges everywhere except New England. I only got into one, so I shipped off to Ohio for school. I never went abroad, so I spent a full four years there, and even though I was ready to get out after year four, I loved it.

At Kenyon, I was a molecular biology major, but I’ve already forgotten just about everything I knew about the Ni-Fe catalytic subunit of hydrogenase-3. What did stick with me is my friends. I loved all those early Sunday mornings suffering on hungover 15 mile long runs when someone feels the need to drop it to 6 minute pace when we're still 5 miles out from campus, and also all those late-night-caffeine-driven working sprees spent on senior projects.

At another stage of life I spent a summer in Wyoming waiting tables. Before that summer my conception of the west was Kansas, which I later learned is the center of the country. I didn’t know anybody out there, but I jumped on the opportunity to have more story-worthy experiences. It turned out to be that and more: I climbed Middle Teton, recited Robert Frost's poetry to drunk Turks, ran a 100 mile week, experienced alone time with God for the first time. Wyoming will always be a part of my heart.

As I reached the end of college I applied to jobs everywhere but New England and the Midwest, but I knew I wanted to see the west coast, and the Northwest in particular. Again, I didn’t know anybody out here, but a lab from Oregon contacted me, and within days I had committed to a two-year stay. When I told my friends about my sudden move to Portland, I was told on multiple occasions, “Such a Ken thing.” I was proud to be associated with such a bold decision.

I loved the thrill of these adventures. I love going to sleep at night thinking, “Wow, I can’t believe my life is real. This is so much cooler than I expected.”

But at the same time, at every stop, I feel like I’ve struggled with the same thing.

When I first got to college, it was hard to swallow seeing my high school friends sprout new lives. In Wyoming, I spent hours on the rec hall payphone isolating myself and talking to my then girlfriend while my friends would stroll in and play some pool. Now in Portland, some of my biggest highlights are waiting for my old friends to visit and experience my new world with me. (Sidenote: two of said old friends, Amulya and Keyser, are visiting me in the next two months!)

This struggle is my second side, one that asks, “Why make new and different friends? I already love the ones I have!”

So maybe, the more the circumstances in your life change, the more it reveals how your core character stays the same. Going from farmland Ohio to picturesque Wyoming to urban Portland, it's made me realize that at every step of my life, my core has revolved around missing my old friends and seeking out new friends.

Kind of a sidenote, but if you’ve ever read the news, you’ve probably realized the world is fucked. Earthquakes regularly target the most vulnerable, the Middle East will always be at the end stages of war, and sex will always dominate everything else. I guess, in such a world, relationship is the one glimmer of hope of what I think life was meant to be. People were meant to have friends, to love and be loved.

But I guess adventure forces me to branch out and find new and different friends. I just need to remember different doesn’t mean worse, it just means, different.

So after six months in Portland, this is what I know: white guys really knew how to dance in the 80's, I’m excited for the new relationships I’m finding, and I count myself as incredibly lucky to have old friends that will put up with me even when I’m miles and miles away.

from ken

Are you trying to change your life? I'd love to hear about it! ken.e.noguchi@gmail.com