Question Three:

If you were an animal, which one would you be?

I’m going to talk to you all today about something I call “The Portland Effect”.

But first, a train of thought:

I hate this question. I hate questions like these. I’m bad at making decisions period - let alone those that are purely hypothetical. I recently had this exact conversation about animal alter-egos with two of my best friends. Told them about how when I was younger I used to think I was a parrot because I was “loud” and “colorful”. Cringe. Then, my friend suggested I was in fact a baby hippo. And I was like, what the fuck? And she was like, you know, something that looks really cute but will actually destroy you. And I was like, fair.

But still no. I’m not a baby hippo. Or a parrot. I am a human. And humans are already animals.

We forget this sometimes. That we are just moderately evolved primates. That all we really, really need in this life is shelter, sustenance, and some friends.

The idea of success is a capitalist facade designed to make us work for the rest of our lives. And unfortunately because that’s the society we live in, there isn’t really any escaping. But don’t worry I’m not here to lecture you on The System. Maybe another time.

Two years ago…

I took a solo road trip up to Portland, Maine for my 22nd birthday. It was my first birthday being single in several years and I wanted to do something fun with just me, myself, and I. You know I love traveling alone.

I spent pretty much all of my time brewery hopping. I think I hit 15 or 16 breweries in the span of 4 days. It was awesome and tiring and …strange. During those few hoppy days, I noticed something different in the air. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Portland is smaller and cleaner and less expensive than New York, but I knew those things already. That wasn’t it. So then what was it?

People were happy. I’m not trying to imply that people in New York aren’t happy (though…?) No, what I’m trying to say is there was a happiness of contentment I had never considered before. These people just were. They worked their brewery jobs or in vintage shops or at restaurant bars and laughed with their coworkers and made money and built homes and had social lives and hobbies and… that was that. There was no constant struggling for more. No need to be the best. No need to be known.

This is not a revolutionary revelation. But for someone less than a year out of school, living in the most competitive, high-strung city in the world and trying to get a job in an industry impossible to break into? It was kind of mind-blowing. Now, I also understand it is a privilege. Getting to a place in life where you’re not constantly struggling - from too much work and too little money - is just not an option for some. So many people only have access to jobs that do nothing but run them into the ground trying to survive. Fucking American Dream.

So there I was - me in all my privilege - experiencing the liberation of The Portland Effect: you can survive any way you know how and still be successful. You can just live your life as is and be content. Happy as is.

Take a breath. Let this be your reminder.

We are animals. We don’t need to be the best. We don’t need to be famous. We don’t need perfect bodies and perfect jobs and perfect pictures. We don’t always need to try so. damn. hard. And we certainly don’t need to turn on one another in the process.

What we need is a roof over our heads and grass under our feet. A friend to talk to. A pizza. A hug.