Westward-Ho!

And....weeeee're off! I think almost everyone's father historically yelled that phrase when pulling out of the driveway in the family van or station wagon bound for summer vacation fun (for me this occurred at the Jersey Shore. Enough said.) and clearly somewhere along the way this phrase became a requirement for dad-hood. It's gotta be written in the rule book. So just for posterity I gave a good 'ol "and we're off" as we saw Meadow Lane fade away in the rear-view of our loaded jeep at 4:30 am yesterday as the embarking of our Westward Road Trip Extravaganza 2007(-8)! came to fruition (henceforth WRTE07-8!).
It was an impressive first-day-out to say the least.

WRTE07-8! by the numbers:

hours since departure: 43
states hit to date: 7 without counting PA. (total will be 10)
number of deer carcasses on Westbound I70 between PA and MO: 21
number of hawks, alive not dead, mostly perching:43
number of "This American Life" audio episodes heard: 6
number of hours without legitimate sleep: 29 (turns out I'm not that young anymore. I am subsequently achy and sick-ish after pulling this impromptu all-nighter and I know the last few hours in the car I was belting out my accompaniment to the "Rent" medleys one minute, then felt my head drop and realized my eyes had been closed mid-lyric... snapped back up still singing and repeated the cycle.)
Roadside America attractions spotted and detoured for: 1


All day I've been wondering, what happened to the good old days of invincibility when I could easily go out drinking on a Saturday night, roll home at last call, wake up to an alarm I had set correctly, get to my 8am dance rehearsal on time, and still finish the day like a hummingbird?
Camped away in one of my favorite cities, Boulder,CO for the next two days, I hope to rediscover the insights to this time-frugal method of existing and apply them in a less self-sacrificial way, and heal the sleep deprivation for the next phase of our rally Westward. Ho!

Christma-cuffs

The funny thing about Christmas is, no matter how hard you try to fight it, how hard you try to get back to the basics of the holiday: void of material purchases and crazed-shoppers' syndrome and centered around quality time with those who are cherished and loved (the "jesus is the reason for the season" ideals), there's always a breakdown of the minimalist mentality and an all-too-natural slip into the conventions of the American-bred-and-fed materialist expectations. The Hallmark holiday-ism, so to speak.
Thus, due to said expectations, a small and simple but well thought gesture never seems enough. And spending the day just like any other day makes others mutter some cliché about "its nice not to make a big deal out of it" or some other equally banal sentence with an underlying tone of "what an unfortunate circumstance". The yearly duty of answering the question "what are you doing for Christmas" is equally as torturous as the semi-daily " are you in school?" or "what are you doing these days?" to the 27-year-old overeducated underachiever, a title which I am proudly toting while brewing coffee and serving pastries at my local coffeehouse. Temporarily. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I have a time line, a schedule, some goals, and an agenda. I've packed them up in an orderly fashion to be dealt like flashcards at the onslaught of life-goal questions and applied my holiday mask of fun, family, and positivity. My game face. Now show me to the ring.
As we load up for another holiday-centered gathering my brother says from the background "...that's why I hate the holidays"...

P. A.

Wow. I'm finding it hard to believe its been nearly two months since I posted. Not that anyone's reading...
The lack of insightful writings is a result of my current locale.
As it turns out, I'm wintering in Pennsylvania. I'm sure if you are reading you're thinking that I change plans like underwear. I can empathize with that opinion. I like to think I learn by doing. In truth the story of how this keystone winter came to be is tiresome and unfortunate, but revolves around bureaucracy and paperwork, two things I despise. And the concept that I absolutely must go ahead and try to do it to realize I shouldn't have tried to do it or didn't even want to in the first place. Thus I have nestled away in the snow-covered lane named for long-expanses-of-wildflower-land-in-which-to-romp until weather and finances permit me to head back up. I'm craving big north.

( no, this is not a meadow in P-A)

"Nestled in this snowy lane" may sound cozy and nice, but believe you-me its certainly not like wintering in the Rocky mountains, or Hawaii as many of Alaska's residents do, or even wintering in Florida where at least for the sake of killing boredom you're close to the beach. No, here in P-A, ("the only state" someone recently epiphan-ized to me, "where people call it by the letters...P...A") one gets stuck in a rut for lack of things to do. I'm not talking in terms of giant adventures to ski slopes or cabins in the mountains. I'm talking basics. I just want to see a damn film that doesn't have some simple horror theme and two teeny bop celebs or some urban slang in the title, but here in mid-state P-A the "films" rarely arrive. I would even settle for a day in the art community, say looking at art or watching a show. Unfortunately the art museum is featuring some 19th century Parisian prints and its specialty: some local artists who specialize in the all-too-unoriginal photos of the Market Street bridge and Capitol Building or watercolors of a coffee mug on kitchen table. The only show of the season is none other than the Nutcracker, put on by the ballet school where I used to teach (picture low low budget renditions of your favorite musical performed in the attic or living room at family gatherings and holidays)
On the other hand, if you're in the area and want to find me, I'll be serving up coffee and bagels at the best local business in town. Turns out my mean tortilla wrapping skills from Fairbanks have come in handy...and my sarcasm and body art have found a place of acceptance in Republican-ville.

But no worries, all: I'll be camera-toting on a cross-country road adventure to ring in the new year, so my ho-hum attitude and general blasé will soon vanish and I will enlighten this blog with visuals more appropriate for its hefty title...earth-see. and sky. ahead.