Two Roads Diverged
After watching some YouTube videos, I diagnosed myself as having anxiety. Some of the symptoms matched up perfectly. Mostly the fact that I’m usually convinced everything will turn out for the worst.
“What if the worst thing DIDN’T happen?” a friend asked. That has become my new mantra.
When I was talking about this trip to my therapist, she asked where I was going.
“I don’t really know,” I said. “I’ll decide when I come to the forks in the road.”
She started laughing. “You’re not a terribly anxious person, you know,” she said. “A truly anxious person would never have said what you just said.”
This freedom is odd to experience. I literally don’t know where I will be from one week to the next.
I ended up where I am completely by chance. A bartender mentioned the place. Then I told my host in Ashland, Ross, about what the bartender said, and he agreed. Driving Gladis this direction, I still wasn’t sure I would come here. But the right fork looked nicer than the left fork, and I thought it would certainly be cheaper to buy gas in Oregon than California, so I decided to come here for at least an hour.
Seven days later, I’m having a hard time figuring out why I should leave Brookings, Oregon.
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Suebob's Red Stapler 
Maybe you shouldn’t leave Brookings.
I am going back home for the holidays. It’s hard to travel and work when the days are so short – by the time I’m done with work, it is dark, and I don’t like to drive in the dark, especially on these unfamiliar windy little roads. But I would love to return at some point.
You’re on a penny-pitch trip. My dad took me on a couple of those when I was a little girl. When we came to an intersection, we’d flip a coin.
My favorite kind!
What a beautiful spot!
I saw so much beautiful stuff on this trip that my brain is full!
I would never encourage anyone to move to the PNW because it is gloomy and gray nine months of the year and I am perpetually planning my escape. But Rand-McGoogle tells me Brookings is near the California border, so it’s probably more moderate, although I remember the first time I drove across heading south mainly because even without the signs, I immediately knew I was in California. Almost instantly the landscape went from David Lynch to John Steinbeck. Still sorrowful, but clement. OTOH, that second picture with the quizzical dog? I could live in that picture forever.
I love gloomy and grey weather, though. It makes me feel right and gives my hair a nice curl. Brookings, like everywhere else, is suffering the effects of climate change. Zero inches of rain so far this season, and the old-timers told me it normally would have had 15″ by now.
The quizzical dog was very funny. Ran up and played with me and bounced around…while his humans very pointedly ignored me. I mean, would NOT acknowledge my existence in any way whatsoever. And a good day to you, ma’am.
My new neighbors are extremely anti-social (they’ve been here a couple of months but haven’t talked to anyone; my theory: Witness Protection), but they have a big floppy Bernese Mountain dog who always smiles and gives me a WOOF! when we’re both in our back yards at the same time. The couple is always playing with the dog, taking his picture, and talking to him using goofy voices, which makes me like them, even though when they see me, they immediately go stone-faced and go inside. They’re the perfect neighbors!
Oh, Bernese are wonderful – at least their color scheme is, which counts for a lot. I think you should yell “What is your problem?” at your neighbors. Neighborhood drama is always fun.