Sometimes people who live in small towns spend hours daily dreaming of escaping the dull confines of underpopulated living. They spend 48 weeks sitting behind their desks planning and imagining the fun they'll have on their 4 weeks they'll be given free as a reward for their invested time. They label someone who has travelled beyond the next two towns as unique, bold, and mysterious. A soul simply plagued with wanderlust is an intrigue, and treated as such. They coral the bold adventurer and fire question after question about experiences. Which place was the best? Where were the people the most eccentric? Why did you go to THIS country, why did you visit THAT one? Were they racist there? Did you drink the water? How do you FUND this? Aren't you scared to travel alone?
They quip about the doldrums of small town living. They scoff at the scenery from their windows saying things like, "There's nothing worth seeing HERE," "You must have cabin fever being stuck in THIS little town after the things YOU'VE seen," "You'll NEVER find a view as beautiful as (insert random vacation resort/country here) in THIS shit hole." Day after day the adventurer listens to their complaining, all the while wondering why, if they are so discontent with their surroundings do they insist on remaining there in said small town? Is it the town with which they are truly dissatisfied or could they find flaws in paradise? The adventurer is perplexed, as her presence in this hole in the wall forgotten oasis was a deliberate decision, and over 3,000 miles had been driven solely to be there.
Further confusing the adventurer is the reigning dissatisfaction with local culture among certain individuals. The adventurer enjoys the friendliness of the young people working at the local cafe. After two days, they'd ask upon her arrival if it would be the "usual" or something different for the evening. She has been recognized as an out of towner, and accepted by the older community as well. There are not only many friendships to be had, but also many trails to run, hikes to take, rivers to see, mountains to climb, slopes to ski, movies to watch, salsa to dance, open mike nights to attend, and potlucks in which to participate.
Moments after being told how there were no beautiful sights, the adventurer walked outside and experienced an incredible sunset. The sky, set ablaze and chilled simultaneously in blazing crimson and icy blue, beckoned her to run back inside and grab her camera to return snapping away frantically at the sight. The vibrant pastels that followed made her want to climb a mountain and shout out to the world, "OPEN YOUR EYES! THE BEAUTY IS RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU!"
You see, to the adventurer, the world is inherently beautiful as people are inherently good. There is a moment in each day that will take your breath away if you open your eyes and allow it to touch your heart. There is beauty around each corner, in each day, each morning, each evening.
Look up, look around, turn off your phone or computer, and smile at somebody or something tangible. Guaranteed, it will make you appreciate your life more, and you might even find yourself inviting somebody to visit the newly discovered awesome town in which you live.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Hardly Hindering Happenings and the Hitchhiking Hoodlum
I left California twelve hours later than originally planned. It's ok. I know. Typical Rita. Got it. I found myself procrastinating, not wanting to leave without saying goodbye. I took the dogs to a dog park where they romped, drooled, and rolled in everything I had hoped they'd avoid. I did laundry. I walked. The warm sun was a welcome change to Seattle's dreary skies. Finally, when I found the strength to leave, I began my trek east.
I popped "Why We Suck" into the cd player, and proceeded to laugh spastically for the next several hours, replaying choice pieces of unfiltered truth about Americans, politics, kids, and fat people *see aforementioned Americans. Satire. I love it. If you haven't read it or listened to Why We Suck, go buy it. Now. Really. It will make you laugh until you cry, or if it applies to you, maybe just cry. Either way, it will be a teachable moment, one to remember and hold dear. Go buy it. Really. Go. Right after you finish reading this...even simultaneously, if you have Itunes. :)
I got sleepy before I made it to Flagstaff, and since I hadn't done my homework and made plans there, I decided to pull into the darkest spot I could possible find to spend the night. You see, last night was the Geminids Meteor Shower...something I refused to miss. I sat, mouth agape as 63 blazing balls of rock and fire burned their way across the midnight sky in absolute silence. A concept so grand, so otherworldy, it rocks my world to consider. I stared into the abyss that is space, trying to wrap my mind around the distances and speed, the raw unadultured beauty of a night alone with two furry friends in an unrecognized land. Finally, I let my mind rest on the events of the day, and I drifted into a dreamless sleep with a slight smile playing on my lips.
I awoke yet again to the soft pastels of sunrise this morning. There is no way I'd rather do things than opening my groggy eyes to the promise of warm rays of light on my sleepy face. Both of the furballs had crawled into the sleeping bag with me. I maneuvered to the front seat as Corky scowled at me for having disturbed his beauty sleep, and started the car to thaw the windows...Yes, it was frigid last night in Arizona.
I watched the sunrise as I continued east. I considered detouring to the Grand Canyon for a spell, but I promised my mom I'd be back by my birthday, and faced with a temptation like that, I'm not sure I would have been able to make it even if I had told myself, "Just for a few hours." I played with the idea of the sun resting its rays softly on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, and as I reached with my neck towards the source, opening my eyes to the vast openness. The Grand Canyon is magical. The scene played, teased, tempted, but I had the strength to stay my path. For this, I am proud.
I drove, sipped tea, sang a little, but mostly played tag with a tan sedan for hours. When he pulled off the road to a rest stop, I was a bit disappointed. Nobody else seemed interested in my game of pass and be passed. Suddenly there was a car approaching, gaining, gaining.
Shit. A cop.
If you didn't know, it's illegal to drive faster than the speeds posted in bold black letters on the dingy white signs along the road. Apparently, driving over 85 anywhere in Arizona is grounds for arrest and a mandatory court hearing. So, 95 in a 75....well, you see where this is heading. I had just driven past a sign that said "Purple Heart Trail." Surely that would work in my favor. If a $125 fine is in my favor, then yes, the tags worked with flying colors. HOWEVER, I AM writing this from my car in Amarillo, so I didn't spend the afternoon in jail. I don't have to return to Arizona for court, and my ticket says 84, so I have to grin for small victories. Although, now that I think of it, I could have gotten that on a smile and a polite apology. My plates were slacking today. There's always next time. :)
I continued my drive chuckling about how wasteful that was. I could buy 3 tanks of gas for the price of that ticket! I promptly put on cruise control, lest I should begin to feel my foot hardening into a lead stump again. I pulled off after having seen a sign for Red Rock Park. Red Rock. Sounds fun. I was looking for a place to run, explore, scramble, and that's what I found. I decided not to change into running clothes, just to change into my trail shoes. I began my jog/trek/scramble with the pups, having no idea what to expect. I trotted down the sandy path with my furry friends, stopping occasionally to pull Russian Thistle from their paws when they strayed too far from the path. We climbed slippery slopes, jumped across small crevices, we ran, walked, huffed, and puffed. I forgot about the elevation out here.
After a few miles I turned around and barrelled back to my car as hard as I could. I reached the vehicle, had some gorp, a swig of water and got ready to leave. I checked my center console for my important things, i.e. id, credit card, cash. The id was there, but the card....
Ah. Must be in my pocket.
Nope.
Oh. Well, maybe it fell between the seats.
Nope.
Crap.
I trotted back to the trail head, braving gusting winds and stinging sand at this point.
Nothing.
Bummer.
I walked up to a security guard and he directed me to the lost and found, just in case I had dropped it in the parking lot before hitting the trails. Nope. He seemed hesitant to let me leave, and offered food. Now, as I had walked into the convention center where the lost and found was located, the smell of tortillas, beans, rice, salsa, and pork had invaded my senses immediately. I was probably noticeably salivating. Apparently, the Navaho were having a banquet and had prepared food for 900. Only 400 showed. After convincing me it would indeed be free, I followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a steaming plate of amazing. (Yes, that was the end of the sentence. Amazing is a noun in this case. :D)
I lost my card on a road trip with a quarter tank of gas in the middle of nowhere, and I had the biggest grin on my face as I returned to my "house" to choke down the plate as fast as I could. It was classy. I'm telling you, minutes after I put the empty plate in the trash, I felt behind me just to be sure the card hadn't slipped between the cushions of the seat, and I found....a piece of tomato. I ate that, too.
As I turned the key to the ignition, I looked up. The moon was staring back at me. A half moon. I took the moment as a sign. A pivotal moment in life. Is the moon half full or half new? I chose the former, and chuckled at my silliness. Life is good.
The first stop I made was a gas station to sweet talk the cashier into allowing me to use my checks. The next stop was to pick up a hitchhiker, dressed in all black and looking like a thuglet. I laughed as I pulled over. Black clothes in my car. Cute. We started driving east together. Mike was his name. We spoke of experiences, life lessons, travels, education, and close calls. You see, Mike was raised in Arizona, but was sent to Chicago as a tween. He got involved with gangs there, and began a meth lab. He finished school at 14. I was impressed.
With a GED?
No. A diploma.
WOW! How'd you manage that?
Everyone has a price. I was selling meth, making over 5k a week. I bought my principal and teachers. Paying their rent and shit..
Hmmm. *Inwardly I thought...No. Not EVERYONE has a price.*
His stories were intense. Forty something fire fights, 20 something injuries, his heart stopped twice after overdosing on meth. He was better now. But the kicker? He is 18 years old. EIGHTEEN!!!!!!!
I had to admit, he was the coolest person I've picked up thus far. Usually, my hitchhikers are just kids like me, wandering the world in search of light, love, and beauty. Not that that's not interesting, but having died once, woken up, kicked the doctor's ass, then died again? Really?! You can't make up stories like that!
My lesson to you *things to be gained from today's blog*
Speed limits are suggestions...except in Arizona.
Live free, laugh loudly, and love with everything you have.
If you see a rock, climb it.
Wake up outside to a sunrise. There's nothing like it.
A half moon is ALWAYS half full.
Pick up hitchhikers.
Learn something from a stranger today.
Now go buy that damn book. :)
I popped "Why We Suck" into the cd player, and proceeded to laugh spastically for the next several hours, replaying choice pieces of unfiltered truth about Americans, politics, kids, and fat people *see aforementioned Americans. Satire. I love it. If you haven't read it or listened to Why We Suck, go buy it. Now. Really. It will make you laugh until you cry, or if it applies to you, maybe just cry. Either way, it will be a teachable moment, one to remember and hold dear. Go buy it. Really. Go. Right after you finish reading this...even simultaneously, if you have Itunes. :)
I got sleepy before I made it to Flagstaff, and since I hadn't done my homework and made plans there, I decided to pull into the darkest spot I could possible find to spend the night. You see, last night was the Geminids Meteor Shower...something I refused to miss. I sat, mouth agape as 63 blazing balls of rock and fire burned their way across the midnight sky in absolute silence. A concept so grand, so otherworldy, it rocks my world to consider. I stared into the abyss that is space, trying to wrap my mind around the distances and speed, the raw unadultured beauty of a night alone with two furry friends in an unrecognized land. Finally, I let my mind rest on the events of the day, and I drifted into a dreamless sleep with a slight smile playing on my lips.
I awoke yet again to the soft pastels of sunrise this morning. There is no way I'd rather do things than opening my groggy eyes to the promise of warm rays of light on my sleepy face. Both of the furballs had crawled into the sleeping bag with me. I maneuvered to the front seat as Corky scowled at me for having disturbed his beauty sleep, and started the car to thaw the windows...Yes, it was frigid last night in Arizona.
I watched the sunrise as I continued east. I considered detouring to the Grand Canyon for a spell, but I promised my mom I'd be back by my birthday, and faced with a temptation like that, I'm not sure I would have been able to make it even if I had told myself, "Just for a few hours." I played with the idea of the sun resting its rays softly on my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, and as I reached with my neck towards the source, opening my eyes to the vast openness. The Grand Canyon is magical. The scene played, teased, tempted, but I had the strength to stay my path. For this, I am proud.
I drove, sipped tea, sang a little, but mostly played tag with a tan sedan for hours. When he pulled off the road to a rest stop, I was a bit disappointed. Nobody else seemed interested in my game of pass and be passed. Suddenly there was a car approaching, gaining, gaining.
Shit. A cop.
If you didn't know, it's illegal to drive faster than the speeds posted in bold black letters on the dingy white signs along the road. Apparently, driving over 85 anywhere in Arizona is grounds for arrest and a mandatory court hearing. So, 95 in a 75....well, you see where this is heading. I had just driven past a sign that said "Purple Heart Trail." Surely that would work in my favor. If a $125 fine is in my favor, then yes, the tags worked with flying colors. HOWEVER, I AM writing this from my car in Amarillo, so I didn't spend the afternoon in jail. I don't have to return to Arizona for court, and my ticket says 84, so I have to grin for small victories. Although, now that I think of it, I could have gotten that on a smile and a polite apology. My plates were slacking today. There's always next time. :)
I continued my drive chuckling about how wasteful that was. I could buy 3 tanks of gas for the price of that ticket! I promptly put on cruise control, lest I should begin to feel my foot hardening into a lead stump again. I pulled off after having seen a sign for Red Rock Park. Red Rock. Sounds fun. I was looking for a place to run, explore, scramble, and that's what I found. I decided not to change into running clothes, just to change into my trail shoes. I began my jog/trek/scramble with the pups, having no idea what to expect. I trotted down the sandy path with my furry friends, stopping occasionally to pull Russian Thistle from their paws when they strayed too far from the path. We climbed slippery slopes, jumped across small crevices, we ran, walked, huffed, and puffed. I forgot about the elevation out here.
After a few miles I turned around and barrelled back to my car as hard as I could. I reached the vehicle, had some gorp, a swig of water and got ready to leave. I checked my center console for my important things, i.e. id, credit card, cash. The id was there, but the card....
Ah. Must be in my pocket.
Nope.
Oh. Well, maybe it fell between the seats.
Nope.
Crap.
I trotted back to the trail head, braving gusting winds and stinging sand at this point.
Nothing.
Bummer.
I walked up to a security guard and he directed me to the lost and found, just in case I had dropped it in the parking lot before hitting the trails. Nope. He seemed hesitant to let me leave, and offered food. Now, as I had walked into the convention center where the lost and found was located, the smell of tortillas, beans, rice, salsa, and pork had invaded my senses immediately. I was probably noticeably salivating. Apparently, the Navaho were having a banquet and had prepared food for 900. Only 400 showed. After convincing me it would indeed be free, I followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a steaming plate of amazing. (Yes, that was the end of the sentence. Amazing is a noun in this case. :D)
I lost my card on a road trip with a quarter tank of gas in the middle of nowhere, and I had the biggest grin on my face as I returned to my "house" to choke down the plate as fast as I could. It was classy. I'm telling you, minutes after I put the empty plate in the trash, I felt behind me just to be sure the card hadn't slipped between the cushions of the seat, and I found....a piece of tomato. I ate that, too.
As I turned the key to the ignition, I looked up. The moon was staring back at me. A half moon. I took the moment as a sign. A pivotal moment in life. Is the moon half full or half new? I chose the former, and chuckled at my silliness. Life is good.
The first stop I made was a gas station to sweet talk the cashier into allowing me to use my checks. The next stop was to pick up a hitchhiker, dressed in all black and looking like a thuglet. I laughed as I pulled over. Black clothes in my car. Cute. We started driving east together. Mike was his name. We spoke of experiences, life lessons, travels, education, and close calls. You see, Mike was raised in Arizona, but was sent to Chicago as a tween. He got involved with gangs there, and began a meth lab. He finished school at 14. I was impressed.
With a GED?
No. A diploma.
WOW! How'd you manage that?
Everyone has a price. I was selling meth, making over 5k a week. I bought my principal and teachers. Paying their rent and shit..
Hmmm. *Inwardly I thought...No. Not EVERYONE has a price.*
His stories were intense. Forty something fire fights, 20 something injuries, his heart stopped twice after overdosing on meth. He was better now. But the kicker? He is 18 years old. EIGHTEEN!!!!!!!
I had to admit, he was the coolest person I've picked up thus far. Usually, my hitchhikers are just kids like me, wandering the world in search of light, love, and beauty. Not that that's not interesting, but having died once, woken up, kicked the doctor's ass, then died again? Really?! You can't make up stories like that!
My lesson to you *things to be gained from today's blog*
Speed limits are suggestions...except in Arizona.
Live free, laugh loudly, and love with everything you have.
If you see a rock, climb it.
Wake up outside to a sunrise. There's nothing like it.
A half moon is ALWAYS half full.
Pick up hitchhikers.
Learn something from a stranger today.
Now go buy that damn book. :)
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