Slacking again?

I don't know what my aversion is to saying I will keep a blog, then actually KEEPING said blog.

We are presently at a friend's vacation cabin near Bigfork, Montana, on Swan Lake (a smaller sister lake to Flathead Lake). A lot has happened since Minnesota - celebrated my birthday with hurricane-force winds in the Badlands of South Dakota, decided that we weren't doing the Black Hills any justice and skipped up to North Dakota earlier than anticipated, flew across eastern Montana to Great Falls, helped my friends at Malmstom Air Force Base pack and clean their house, then came here to Bigfork.

Writing is hard. I have found it exceedingly difficult for a number of years now. I don't know what it is that prevents me from being as prolific as I was in high school and the first half of college.

But either way, we're here. I rode a jet-ski for the first time yesterday and broke my toe in the process. (I'm a toe-breaker, if you haven't figured that out yet.) This may preclude me from doing much (any) backpacking in Glacier National Park, which is pretty much bullshit - but I am trying to keep my hopes up that my toe will feel great in the morning and will no longer be that ugly red-purple color in a few hours. (Shhh. Don't bust my bubble.)

We aren't sure what our plans are from this point out. We are definitely doing Glacier, Yellowstone and the Tetons, but after that - who knows. We would love to head out to the Pacific Northwest, but Patrick wants to get back to Knoxville to spend time with his kids and figure out his own future, and I'd also like to get back to Santa Fe because my sublettor (who is committed to Nov. 15) said that, if possible, he'd like to move out sooner. He's been a great sublettor so I'd like to help him out with that if I can. Before anything happens, though, we will have to head back to New Jersey to pick up Pat's car and my dog. Then there's always the question of, once I return to Santa Fe, what I will do for money and whether Patrick will eventually follow me out there.

Lots of things are up in the air. But right now I'm just looking out at the storm clouds moving over the lake, wishing I had the energy to write more, but all I really want to do is start reading a new book (finished one today) and eventually take a nap under some down comforters.

Tentative Route, Tentatively

This is what I'm thinking right now. Right this second. This may change. This is not final. Have I mentioned this is tentative and subject to change? 'Cause it is. Tentative and subject to change. (Click that image at right to see a larger version; it is, however, a cell phone picture, so it's not good even when it's enlarged.)

This entry got EXTREMELY long, so I jumped it. Hope ya don't mind.

bring me that horizon

Last anyone knew, my road trip was canceled. Finito. Done. Off. Patrick went back to Tennessee and called everything off and I came home to convalesce and I didn't know what was coming next in my life.

But then everything changed.

And everything changed again.

And before it had a chance to change the second time, it changed a third time.

And then things stayed the same for a second, then changed back again to before the second change but after the first change. So they were still gonna change but a bunch of other changes were annulled.

And here I am now - 10:42 pm Eastern time on Tuesday, June 8, and right this second I will say this:

The trip is back on.

Now, I noted the precise date and time because who knows what will happen at 10:50 pm or even 11:37 pm and don't even ask about 8:02 am. But right now, all systems are go.

Below the jump, find out WTF happened.

love is an ocean

I am in motion
I am blue
Love is an ocean
I'm anchored in you

And I am a dreamer
So you sent me away
Sometimes we dreamers
We just get in the way

But I've always known
Since I was a child
That the road is my home
And my spirit is wild

And I have my memories

And I've got lots of time

But I'm stoned in San Francisco

With you on my mind

I am in motion

I am blue

Love is an ocean

I'm anchored in you

a quickie. and road food.

Yes, it has been about a week since I posted here, but I have been pretty nondescript; been hanging out at home in NJ, sleeping in and going to bed early, driving around North Jersey, visiting family and seeing a friend or two. Nothing to blog home about.

Now I am in Tennessee again. Patrick and I have tickets to see Neil Young tonight at the Knoxville Civic Auditorium. We've spent the last two nights camping in Maryville. It was weird to camp in a normal campground as opposed to a national park/forest like we have before - there were, like, people there. And RVs. And right across the lake were houses. Like, that people live in. Weird.

We've been talking a lot about future plans, whether we will end up traveling together after all, where we will be in the next few weeks - but, since nothing is solid as of now, I'm not going to go musing on about it. Once we figure things out I will update you all considerably.

On a final note, my new favorite road food is Subway. This may sound weird coming from a girl from New Jersey, where real submarine sandwiches are king. But I've found, in my travels from NM to TN to NJ and back to TN, that Subways are just as plentiful as McDonalds on the interstates, and honestly, when you're hungry, they aren't half bad. The downsides are that there's no drive-thru and you have to actually go inside to order it, and they aren't easy to eat while driving (unlike, say, a double quarter-pounder), so it makes you lose time automatically. But the upside? They have real live vegetables on them, they don't make you feel totally disgusting, and for less money, you can feel considerably less gross and eat just as much as you would at some fast-food place.

Don't get me wrong. I will always, always choose my hometown Chatham Sandwich Shop over freakin' Subway any day. But when I'm rolling down 40 or 81 or 78 or any other road that you can refer to simply by spitting out two digits, I'm all about the tuna salad sub on Italian herbs and cheese bread with lettuce, onions, tomatoes, green peppers, cucumbers, and mayhaps some light mayo if I'm feeling frisky.

one day at a time

I've gotten over my little temper tantrum from the other night. Daytimes are always easier to contemplate what comes next.

My time at home so far has been pretty lazy - the most I have accomplished are two dog walks and driving my mom to the train station yesterday. Talk about productive.

The reason I had to take my mom to the train station is because she is a tutor for students who are in Broadway and off-Broadway plays, and she was headed into the city for a tutoring session. Today my mom and I are headed into New York to see The Burnt Part Boys, for which she's tutored two young actors. The show is a musical about coal mining, and seeing how music and coal mining are two of my favorite things in the world, I'm pretty excited for this.

So that's this evening. Tomorrow I will probably spend some time cleaning out my car (there's a LOT of dog food on the floor; it took me a few days to realize that Blake doesn't like to eat in the car, but, if offered food, he will take some in his mouth and drop it on the floor), which is extremely exciting, and then tomorrow evening Emilie, one of my best friends, will be in town for a few days, visiting from Montana. So that is likely to take up much of my weekend. Monday I'll head up to Bergen County, near the New York state border, to see family.

And then, come Wednesday, I'm headed back down to Knoxville. It's less than 700 miles from here to Knoxville, which is much less than I thought - so I will be able to leave here Wednesday morning and get there by Wednesday evening. Then Thursday evening, Patrick and I have tickets to see Neil Young. After that, I'm not sure when I'll leave Knoxville. My parents will be in Pittsburgh, visiting my brother, for Memorial Day weekend, so I may leave Knoxville and drive the 400-ish miles up to Pittsburgh through West Virginia and meet up with them there. Not positive, though.

I'm just taking all this one day at a time. If I think too much, I get nervous about what's next. So right now I'm just focusing on going to get dog food this afternoon and then heading into New York this evening. I'm not thinking about next week. I'm not thinking about getting to Knoxville. More importantly, I'm not thinking about leaving Knoxville again. And I'm really not thinking about the trillions of little trips I'll be taking around the Northeast to see all my friends; upstate New York, Philadelphia, Connecticut, Boston, perhaps Maine. If I think about all those I might explode.

And I'm really not thinking about how to afford all this. When I learned my trip was derailed, I did what I usually do: Spent money to make myself feel better. As a result, due to both necessary errands and unnecessary expenditures, I blew through my whole last paycheck (which included payment for unused vacation time) and then some. So I'm left without a dime at this particular moment - hence the other day's job applications.

The whole no-money thing really is my fault. I could have done it smartly, but I didn't. I've always been bad with money, and I was proud for a few months in there that I wasn't sucking as hard as I used to... Oh well. Back to the drawing board.

But for now, I need to shower and get dressed. Unfortunately, unlike Madrid, New Mexico and fly fishing camps in Tennessee, people in New Jersey expect you to be at least a little bit clean (if not impeccable) when you go into public.

quote of the day

"A good traveler has no fixed plan and is not intent on arriving." - Lao Tzu

call the waaambulance, i have a waaamburger and some french cries.

"Reality" TV shows about New Jersey are all the rage right now. Of course there is the phenomenon of Jersey Shore, there's Cake Boss about some mafioso-esque bakers, and today (while indulging in some joyfully mindless America's Next Top Model reruns) I kept seeing commercials for Jersey Couture, which looks simply terrible.

Of course, anyone who knows anything about New Jersey knows that the only real "reality" show about NJ is not reality at all, but is in fact The Sopranos. But I digress.

For real, though, I am a bit notorious in Santa Fe for being New Jersey's most rabid fan. I love this state. I loved growing up in this state. I still call New Jersey "home." It's the best state in the union. America's best-kept secret. All those things.

So why is it so hard to be here?

I'm not talking the whole "oh gosh gee I actually got more used to Santa Fe than I thought!" or anything like that. (Though, the first night that I arrived home, I was following my dad to a diner and went to land a high-speed merge that I grew up with... and nearly got run off an overpass, slammed my car into the curb and ended up stopped dead in traffic for a minute or so. NJ driving fail... I bet they were all glaring at my New Mexico plates while they edged their Beemers around me.) This is a different kind of hard.

A while ago, I accepted that nothing happens by accident and that there is a reason for everything that has gone "wrong" in my life. When Patrick had to go back to Tennessee and call off our road trip, I was upset, sure - but I knew that there was a reason it was happening. I knew it would show itself in time.

I resolved to come home here to New Jersey for a while in order to relax, be unemployed, do some writing, relax, sleep, relax and relax. I was looking forward to it.

So why is it that I applied for four jobs tonight?

We are each the architect of our own destiny, but I can't seem to get my buildings to look like the blueprints. I wanted to live in the moment and be introspective, but all I can do is think about the future and the outward influences that will shape my next move. I wanted to take it easy, but I'm getting swept back into the current of being the stressball that I have been for the last forever-many-years. I have spent 10 years trying to lose weight and resolved to do so this summer (my excuse was always, "I'm too tired after work to go to the gym!"... well, what about when I don't have work?), but my grand kick-off has been foiled by a broken toe and, if the last decade is any indication, this time around may not go so well. It's hard to stay positive when you've been dealing with it for almost half your life.

So here I am. I'm not hungry, but I want to eat. I don't want to work, but I am applying for jobs. I want to take time to figure out what I am doing next, but I already have my heart set on moving to Knoxville. I want to travel a bit more and see a few more friends this summer, but I don't want to even begin to think about where the money to do so would come from. I just want to go to sleep, but I'm writing a stupid blog entry.

Maybe that's an indication that I should shut the hell up and go to bed.

It rained all day today - rain like I haven't seen in years. I missed rain. I missed water. I should go see the ocean. I should let the faucet run and not worry about it.

best-laid plans

When I told my co-worker Rani about my situation, she smiled and said, “What is that saying? ‘If you want God to laugh at you, make plans’?”

I’ve been saying that for over a week now as a form of comfort, or explanation, or excusal, for what happened.

Backing up a bit, the basic fact is that my trip, as I knew it, is canceled. I was going to make the drive with Patrick, the man who inspired me to do all this in the first place. But on April 27, about two weeks before we were to leave, he had to leave New Mexico attend to a family situation in Tennessee, which would keep him in the Knoxville area probably indefinitely. I was either going to make the trip by myself, or not make it at all.

My first thought was to call it off all together. I can’t do this alone, I thought. More importantly, I don’t want to do it alone. I figured I would just head straight home to New Jersey and convalesce at my parents’ house in Morris County.

But then a few days went by and Patrick and I spoke and we decided I should go to Knoxville. If he has to stay in Knoxville, and if we decide to try to make our relationship work, I may look into moving to the area, so I figured I should at least get a feel of the place before I commit or don’t commit.

So here I am. I am presently in Great Smoky Mountains National Park, sitting at the trailhead of the Chimneytops trail, hanging out in Patrick’s car while he and two of his kids hike. No dogs are allowed on the trails, so rather than leave my dog alone in the car for four hours, I decided to stick around here and get some writing done and sort out my brain.

One thing I can say is, this park is as busy as Six Flags on Memorial Day Weekend. It’s the most-visited national park in the nation (10 million people each year), and on a cool May weekend like this, I believe it. Cars are everywhere. You creep down roads at a crawl. Last night we drove the Cades Cove Loop, which is about 11 miles, in 2 hours or more. Sure, we got out to explore on occasion, but we spent most of our time rolling along slowly behind a line of cars or waiting in a traffic jam where a bunch of idiots were getting out of their vehicles to get a picture of the bear just off in the woods.

Edit: See photos related to this part of this entry here (Pictures 2: Great Smoky Mountains National Park Landscapes).

But none of that takes away from the sheer beauty of the Smokies. Living in Santa Fe for six years and spending the majority of that time amidst juniper and pinon trees, scrubby sage and chamisa plants and harsh desert landscapes (beautiful as they may be), I was totally unprepared for the sight of Cades Cove in early summer. The trees are so green, they glow. Some roads are so covered by foliage that it’s hard to tell what time of day it is. (Driving to the Sugarlands Visitors Center today, Patrick said, “I think it’s nice out today.” I looked up and realized – yeah, it’s hard to tell with all these trees in the way.)

The Smokies aren’t just a forest, like I thought they would be. Cades Cove, where we are camping, in 1900 had a population of 700 people – about 125 families. So sprinkled throughout the valley are graveyards, old houses, primitive churches, rustic barns and cabins. The Cades Cove Loop took us past a few churches, some of which we stopped to photograph, and a walk into a sprawling meadow brought us to a tiny graveyard (maybe a dozen graves) with no other buildings even remotely nearby. Some park rangers say that some of the churches were moved from their original location, and these random graveyards in the middle of nowhere would lead me to believe that’s true.

Edit: See photos related to this part of this entry here (Pictures 3: Great Smoky Mountains National Park Settlements).

I have had a ball taking pictures with my new camera. A few days before I left, I bought my friend Jason’s old Canon Rebel XT. It is heaven. I have been wanting a camera like this since I was a kid (seriously, at nine or ten years old, I was asking my dad for what I called a “manual camera”), and it’s just the greatest. I’ll crouch down by a fence and take pictures focused on the landscape, then focused on the barbed wire. It just doesn’t get old.

On the way out I stopped a few times to take pictures – in Newkirk, New Mexico, Clinton, Oklahoma, Okemah, Oklahoma (Woody Guthrie’s birthplace), and Jackson, Tennessee. There may have been a few other towns in there. Newkirk and Clinton were my favorites. I have always been mesmerized by abandoned buildings, so many of my pictures are of old edifices I stumbled upon (there certainly are enough of them on the High Plains). Now here I am, and I got some great shots of graveyards and churches yesterday.

Edit: See photos related to this part of this entry here (Pictures 1: New Mexico to Tennessee).

I thought driving by myself was going to suck. I was prepared to stop often to rest. But it was actually great. There was no one to tell me to hurry up, no one to complain “But you just peed 50 miles ago!”, no one to say I was taking too long photographing some old broken-down stand at the Casey Jones village. Traveling by myself (well, with the dog) is actually quite glorious.

But one of the reasons I enjoyed traveling, albeit by myself, was because I knew I was moving toward Patrick. When he left New Mexico two Tuesdays ago, I was devastated. I knew I loved him, but I thought I would be able to let him go if I had to. I learned this week that that is probably not true. Being with him again is perfect. This isn’t going to be easy – especially if he decides to stay in Knoxville (judging from the number of McCain stickers and the pickup I saw with ‘Way To Go Arizona’ soaped on the back window, I don’t think I will fit in very well here) – but I am willing to try to make it work. Whether that means dealing with something long-distance or moving to Knoxville or Asheville is yet to be seen.

When it comes down to it, I doubt Patrick will want to leave Knoxville again, as much as he loved living in New Mexico. To see him with his daughter Emily is like watching a bell ring. Emily just turned 3 years old in March, and between loving camping, wanting to go fishing and being game for anything outdoors-related, they are a match made in heaven.

We’re presently out here in the Smokies with Emily and JD, Pat’s son, who is 15. Pat had wanted to (and I suppose still wants to) hike the Continental Divide Trail with JD, but staying in Knoxville would make that difficult.

All told, the kids are great. I mean, sure, the less-than-24-hours I have spent with them is just that – less than 24 hours – but I’ve had a great time. I could see spending an extended amount of time with them, and, if Pat has his way, living with JD.