Dear Alaska,

There will, in fact, be things that I miss about you.

But YOU will not be one of them.

Because, in fact, I did not experience Alaska this season.  I experienced Anchorage.  And, naturally, there were and are things here that I genuinely enjoyed.  My cohort.  My roommates. The stories that I now have to tell about my crazy landlady, our psychotic and hermit-like neighbors, and the misadventures of one wildly moody housecat.

I enjoyed the mountains in the distance and the strange sense of community in this strange northern town.  Dogs everywhere, street people making it a point to yell at me.

The Bear Tooth Theatrepub and Chilkoot Charlie's Trivia night.

I cannot, however, say that I will miss the town as a whole.

Again, nor can I say that I will miss Alaska.  Alaska- the big wilderness, the big sense of wanderlust and glamour and loss- did not exist for me.  Not this season, anyway.  Plans foiled; mischief never quite properly managed; fashioning of nonsense and no-good constantly foiled...

I gave up on the BIG Alaska.  I cannot regret it or regret will eat me alive... but I will be saddened by the world outside that I never quite got my act together enough to engage.

Alas- I blame myself, Alaska, not you. It is my ache, my pain, my mistake.

Love,
Kate