Last night I dreamed I lived in Ketchikan, Alaska. I worked at a small church and wore flannel and jeans and cowboy boots all the time. I drove a beat-up Chevy with rust and dents along the side. Every morning I had eggs and toast at a local diner and then walked the boardwalks and felt the rain. I woke up sad. Alaska still haunts me. I From what I've heard, Alaska holds some sort of mystical power: even those who have never been there long to be there. Having been there, if only for a week, the longing grows and grows within me. I dream of it often, waking and sleeping. Not simply Alaska, mind you, but the Inside Passage; especially Ketchikan, where the picture above was taken. I would do anything to just move there, get a house, and then advance God's kingdom in that rainy place. But, alas, here I am in Dayton, Ohio. Still living with my parents. Driving a dying car. Not making enough money to get my own place and barely paying the bills that I have. *sigh* I do want a change. I want to get my own place and build my own life. The economy is so bad here that all I can really do is make coffee; don't get me wrong, I love the job, and never really dread going in. The people I work with are fantastic, the customers are great, it's a wonderful job. But I can't afford my own place with it. Oh, if Alaska were here right now, or if I were on a plane there with a job and place awaiting me... That would be wonderful. But I guess I'll just keep it real "down south" (as those Alaska people would say) and keep doing my thing, walking tall against the rain (to quote one of my favorite house songs).
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