Well, I'm an idiot, so of course after rambling on about nothing for a bit, I find I have something actually important (to me) to write.

Somehow, I feel compelled to tell the story of my blog title. For a long time, it was called "She's my Arizona". It's been this slight variation since I changed it, I'm not sure how long ago.

We begin in the Philadelphia airport, where a friend and I are picking up plane tickets to Colorado. She looks at the connecting flight, having not seen it before. Phoenix, Arizona.

I like Arizona, she says. It always seemed like this magical place I would really want to live, and I never wanted to ruin that by actually seeing it.

Because anywhere I end up, if I really don't like it, I know I can escape to Arizona. Even if it isn't real, I need that illusion. That there's a place to escape to, and it's warm and cozy and home.

(These are, of course, my words trying to emulate her voice. I remember what she meant much more than the words, because it stuck with me.)

At some point on this trip, I realized... she's my Arizona.
We weren't together. We'd never really considered it. We were friends. But in some way, on some level, she was the girl who, if things got really bad, I could go to her and she could be mine, if I only needed her to be.
But I didn't want that. I just wanted to feel like she could be there, like I had a safety net, like things aren't bad yet, because I still don't need to run away there, but I still have that safe place.

She was my Arizona.

I'm still not really sure what broke the illusion. (It happened a while back.) And I'm not entirely okay with it. But it turns out, I'm just fine without my Arizona. Perhaps even better, because when you don't have a safety net, there's no choice but to get yourself the fuck out of danger.