My house is located near the Urban growth boundary. I realize that this term is not generally used in most of the United States, and probably not really throughout the world. The urban growth boundary means that on one side of a road I generally drive down is endless suburbia, houses upon houses upon houses and street signs, sidewalks, elementary schools, cyclists, and the occaisional starbucks.

The other side of the road contains miles and miles of farmland.

This was not taken by my house, but is an adequate illustration of what the fields look like, minus the adorable miniature donkeys.

I love where my home is located. Even though the buses run irregularly and I live with my parents and there’s nothing to do after 7pm on a weeknight (besides roller-skating, but that doesn’t really count anyway*), there’s something to be said about driving less than five minutes and being surrounded by endless fields and the occasional old barn.

I’ve been learning a lot about boundaries in the last few years. Learning to set my own, and to break the ones around me. The boundary of how far I can walk in my new teva sandals, (and whether or not it’s worth the blisters to break it), the boundary of where I’m willing to travel by bus, the boundary of how far I’m willing to go to make a relationship work, and how setting boundaries with money affect my daily life.

Last week, I broke a boundary. I flew 679 miles to San Jose, California by myself, to visit my boyfriend. Not only did I fly (!!!) by myself (!!!!!!), but I went to visit my boyfriend (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). I was pretty much knock-kneed and stressed my entire flight. Excited, nervous, afraid we’d crash and I’d end up on an island with Matthew Fox, I tried to ignore the sensation of my feet slowly freezing into bits (a side-effect of wearing flip-flops on the plane, where the air-condititioning is, I don’t know, directly on your feet) and nervously took photographs of my newly-painted turquoise fingernails as the pilot announced we were making our descent.

Of course, the vacation went off without a hitch. The visit was glorious, the sun was amazing, and I’m now completely discombobulated in Oregon, wishing there were more palm trees in my neighborhood’s vegetation.

So, I’m changing my (previously-set) boundary of Oregon. I’m moving my weekly boundaries to include graduate-school planning and trying to make myself work more this summer, instead of working less.

And while I still have yet to break the how-far-can-I-walk-in-these-shoes-before-I-die-of-blisters-boundary, I’m working on breaking the “stay forever in Oregon” and “be safe with my school choices” and “never take any risks” boundary. I’m not skydiving yet, but it’s a step.

And I’m so excited to see where it takes me.

*I say this because I cannot walk upright without falling over, let alone successfully attaching wheels to the balls of my feet and attempting motion, not out of any prejudice against Roller Derbies or the romance of roller disco.