Can I See Your Papers Please? The woman behind the counter decided that she was going to need to check my ID before letting me use my credit card. I guess she was afraid that I was some kind of street thug trying to purchase three packs of on sale cigarettes with some poor soul's stolen card. Perhaps she suspected I was just making a test purchase to see if it was safe at which point I'd return later for a carton of Dunhill's, a DVD player, and the Cadillac El Dorado they have next to the display of energy drinks. Whatever she was thinking I fished out my ID and handed it to her. "Oregon?" So yeah. My current ID is not only from out of state, it's long expired. Technically I've been violating the law (which, I imagine, would be more significant if I were doing something like driving or stabbing hobo's just to get an erection) since about ten days after I moved here. An enormous part of the problem is that I have no interest whatsoever in spending any time at the DMV and if I don't have to I won't. So there. Stalking around the fringes of my mind, however, is something else. I don't want to give up the last symbol of my ties to my home state. Yeah, I know that's pretty strange, and it's not so much that I miss terribly Oregon so much as it is that I have found it very difficult to think of this new place as my home. Even after such a long period of time. Don't get me wrong, I love where I am and feel pretty lucky to be here, but at the same time I have never been able to get a sense of permanence. I have no real idea of what makes a place a home, but I know I have yet to feel it here. On some occasions I entertain the thought of returning to my lovely emerald state, but those are only fleeting notions that never stick. I went through too much shit to get here, and stay here, and put together some kind of vestige of an adult life to leave just because I am overtaken by geographical ennui. Then again... * * * 
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