Mercury Says:

I've returned to Texas after a long time elsewhere, and I sometimes find myself looking at it like someone who's not from around here. What I love about Texas now is what visitors would love. That is, I love the quaint idiosyncrasies, the "other-ness," that which is to be found in far-off corners but becomes popular and consumable through blogs and The New York Times. I'm the one who's changed, and I can't fault Texas for being (or staying) what it is. Texas is a study in extremes. It's about the audacity of the hugeness and the beauty of the smallness; it's about high and low culture and a confusion of the two. The mundane here becomes institutionalized elsewhere as "outsider," grandiose, or just plain bizarre, but that's taking it out of context. Yes, the personalities and pride here can be as big as the borders, and growing up, I went to church potlucks on Wednesday nights and ate canned green beans. But it's not as strange as you would think. It's just what you know (and what you learn to question with time). When you get past all that embroidery spun around Texas, it's just another place to live. I hardly feel like I can get my mind (or arms) around Texas at times, but I'm pretty sure I like it. That's about all I know about Texas, and when you're here, it's all you need to know.