A Video is Worth a Thousand Pictures...

...sort of.

Here's what I've been doing for the last half hour.

Island in the Sky

Believe it or not, the adjustment to living in Las Vegas has been a little difficult for me. I feel confident that this is where we're supposed to be, but I am continually exposed to a lot of what makes Vegas cheap and sad. Which sucks.

I know. I have only been here for two months, so who am I to criticize. But it is hard living in a place that builds its economy and its personality ("What happens in Vegas" and so forth) on vice. It is hard moving from a place where my personal philosophy was frequently reaffirmed to a place where most people find that philosophy quaint, at best, and in some cases downright ridiculous.

It is hard being LA's weekend mistress.

Anyway, to the point: Since we've been here, we've kept hearing about this mythical "Mt Charleston," a supposed "real" mountain in the vicinity of Vegas. Haha, I thought. I grew up in real mountains, and what I see around Vegas are dry craggy hills, at best. "But there's a ski resort on this mountain!" So what. I'll believe it when I see it.

Today, we had our last day off before Travis starts school again, and we decided to check out this Mountain of Charleston. So northward we went. Up past the strip, northward, westward, and out of town completely. Then we turned left, went several thousand feet straight up a gentle incline.

And suddenly yucca trees gave way to pines. The temperature dropped steadily. The air was fresh and comfortingly thin. The ground was almost--dare I say it?--green! We arrived at the base of a long loop trail (which we only did about 3/4 mile of, being unprepared) and just stared and stared and stared. It was like...a REAL MOUNTAIN.

One of the signs described it as an "Island in the Sky." An ecosystem so isolated and so unlike the surrounding Mojave Desert, that there are species of plants here found nowhere else on earth.

And the best part is, for the first time, I thought--I really thought--I could love living here. I mean, not just in a "it feels like we're on vacation here" way. But in a visceral way.

Guys, this place is totally LEGIT.

Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

I don't know what I thought I would escape by leaving Utah. I think if I tried to explain it, I would just come off sounding like a jerk. And I also see the irony of this statement in reference to a previous post I wrote in defense of many things Utah. I still stand by that post.

But I will say, that in the move to Nevada--and, consequently, on my quest to redefine myself--maybe I thought to escape the culture of politely pretending to be perfect. I know no one, anywhere (with probably a very few exceptions) actually thinks they're perfect. It just seemed like everyone was trying really hard to be really good, and it made me uncomfortable sometimes, because I knew how really flawed I was. How really not into some things I was. How many doubts and questions and struggles I had with things that everyone around me took for granted--or at least seemed to. And I was mortally afraid of being judged for not trying hard enough to pretend that everything was all right. In some ways, it has been a relief to just...leave.

Now, that being said, let me share with you an observation of behavior here in Las Vegas: pervasive rudeness. Not everyone all the time. In fact, almost everywhere we go we meet genuinely cheerful people. But there also does seem to be a lot more out-and-out incivility. And feeling the dampening effect of this incivility on my spirits has caused me to reflect on the one thing I mentioned above that I thought was "wrong" with Utah. It made me realize that, though the hypocrisy of someone pretending that everything is all right bothers me, it doesn't bother me near as much as someone who doesn't even bother with the veneer of civility. It made me realize that it is not my problem if someone judges me for not being perfect.

That being polite, being nice (I know people hate that word) is totally, and wrongfully, underrated.