the “out there” older sister

I live in Alaska.

Like, backwoods, two-hour-drive-to-town, population of 2,000 at most, type Alaska.

Which, in Alaska, isn’t even considered as rural as it can get.

Though I fancy myself an explorer and adventurer, I never thought I’d find myself living in a place where, when you google image search it, only a picture of the local grocery, a highway sign, and a moose pops up.

That’s it.

For as Anytown, USA as it is, I’ve never had more to do, more to see, more to eat, more to drink, or more going on than I do in this very remote, small town.

Not because I haven’t lived in places that offer up infinitely more choices for entertainment and leisure to it’s residents, because I have. (I moved here from LA.) And not because there haven’t been more more hectic busy and exciting times in my life, because there have been. (I’m a post-grad millenial arts and humanities major with no career path to speak of who’s finally finding that a much slower pace of lifestyle is a good and welcome thing. This moment in my life is surprisingly relaxed.)

The reason this place feels like there’s so much going on, is because the people who live here make a point to have things going on. They make plans and they keep them. They throw potluck and board game nights, bonfires, and costume parties, just for the hell of it, and then, they all go through with the plans that they made with one another. It’s the community of people who make up a hodge-podge, transplanted, family of misfits and weirdos who just enjoy life and like to enjoy it with others.

It’s that feeling that kept me here through my first Alaskan winter, and it’s those people who make me want to stay a bit longer.

More soon,


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