i'm feeling fergalicious.

In an effort to anty-up with all the boys embarking on their young man-ventures lately, I'd like to again gush about the fact that I'm moving to Portland.

Sure. You have a story. A really freaking GREAT story. And I'm jealous. The settings vary: Korea. Prague. The Apalachian Trail. Cross-country road trips. Cross-country bike trips. Crossroads. Fandango.

You travel alone, free. (Who would wanna 'R' you?) Or with friends. Or you make them along the way.

You hop trains. Your work on your thesis. You buy beer for homeless men and shake their hands, introduce them to your friends.

And I love you guys. Have nothing but love for you guys.

But hang on a sec, white boy. I get a story TOO.

I'm moving to Portland.
And I'm going to talk to strangers about cats and gay marriage.

I'm going to go to art shows and make eye contact with underweight boys.

I will find a job that may or may not have anything to do with my college degree.

I will go to parties and come home thinking deeply about life.

I will eat some kind of middle eastern food and then put that middle eastern food item under "interests" on my MySpace page.

I will wear less makeup and have an opinion about my wearing less makeup.

I will camp. I will climb things. I will be well-informed.

I will write in my JOURNAL and read JD SALINGER BOOKS and listen to my iPod in the RAIN!

I will live a COMEDY and a TRAGEDY and A LOVE STORY!
An EPIC! And unlike your story, my story will contain parts about my MENSTRUAL CYCLE!

That's right. I'm moving to Portland muthafuggas. Eat your endearing little heart out Zach Braff.