a few years ago i met this drunk girl. she was being obnoxious and bragging to the whole bar about her brand new porsche. she was going to different tables, asking people what cars they had, then laughed and said how sad it was that they didn't also have porsches. she was annoying but i didn't think anything of it until my friend started calling her bluff. my friend said "if you really have a new porsche, why didn't you drive it here? I don't see a porsche in the parking lot" and she said something like she didn't want to get it dirty on the ride over. they argued then it turned into a screaming match and they both got kicked out for being loud and wasted. it continued outside tho. she actually drove a honda, not a porsche. my friend, being drunk and stupid, said "see you don't drive a porsche, you drive this piece of sh*t" and kicked the bumper of her car. long story short they got in a huge court battle over it. she won obviously.
When I was 17, I snuck out of the house for the first time to visit my boyfriend in Kelso, WA. I took my mom’s Station Wagon and made the hour trip from Astoria to see him. On my way back, it was 3 or 4 o’clock in the morning. I had to rush home because I knew my mom would be waking up in an hour. The entire drive back was smooth… up until I was turning into our driveway and clipped our mailbox. I was in total disbelief. Sure, the mailbox was close to the sidewalk, but I had parked the car a thousand times and never even come close to hitting it before. I guess I was so tired that I underestimated the turn and swung the steering wheel too sharply. I parked and jumped out of the car, basically in tears. The front bumper was fine (those cars were built like tanks), but the mailbox was done for. I left everything where it was and immediately climbed back in through my bedroom window. My mom was leaving for work and saw her mail scattered across the lawn. She was so pissed! When she came to interrogate me, I told her that in the middle of the night, I heard a loud car revving down the street, then a loud bang, but wasn’t sure what it was. I let her come to her own conclusion that it was the teenage delinquents who were known to hit mailboxes with baseball bats. She never questioned me further. That was about 25 years ago… and she still doesn’t know!! This photo was taken years before this happened LOL.
Some days the cost of living out here quietly stresses me out more than I let on. I love it here, truly, but I don't think people talk enough about how expensive "beautiful and peaceful" can actually be.
I genuinely love watching a big storm roll in from the safety of my living room window. There's something about the ocean getting loud and dramatic that makes the whole town feel more alive, even when everyone else is complaining about the power flickering.
Honestly, I still don't know the names of half my neighbors even after all this time here. Everyone waves, everyone's friendly, but somehow it never quite turns into knowing each other. I don't know if that's just coastal life or just me.
There's a strange comfort in the same winter routine every year, same soup recipe, same spot by the window, same storm-watching ritual. I used to think I'd get bored of it. I never do.
I love how the barista at my usual coffee shop just starts making my order the second I walk in now. It's such a small thing, but it makes this town feel like mine in a way I didn't expect when I first moved here.
Yes, even when it's windy and miserable, I still prefer the Oregon coast. Is that controversial? 😬🖤
I love the sea air, the views, the little coffee shops, and the slower pace, but I also feel guilty sometimes for not "doing enough" to be part of the community. It's weird how easy it is to live somewhere beautiful and still feel disconnected.