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rabbit, rabbit

June 21, 2017
Californiacation, Musings
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He thinks he is a rabbit. Small, young, jovial. Walking through fields, past lakes, hiding in caves. He thinks he will never die. He wants to look for something but doesn’t quite know what it is.

It is a big world. A huge, beautiful place. And even more, the universe, but one planet is more than enough for most of us, for a lifetime of adventures or of hiding in caves.

I have been old for many years. Since I was 10, knowing I was no longer singular. And now, 26, four or five gray hairs on my head, a candle flickering beside me, burning away.

I see you sitting there and growing old. I see your armchair is comfortable with you.

I know there are many different types of stories. What I don’t know is what kind mine is. How can it plot out a path if I keep moving? What if it never forms to anything? I’m not running away, just searching, running towards.

I had a dream last night that I was in school. I got good grades. I showed my grandfather. He said something like, “good, you can be a teacher.” And I replied with, “maybe when I’m older.” And he laughed, implying I’m there now.

When does youth leave you? What day? When do you become old and no longer young?

Count the days. Count the lines on your face. Count the moments of happiness. When does it happen?

So far it has been mostly the same. Wonderful days and days we wait out. Bunker down to hide from them. Seek the weekends. The two of seven days that belong just to us. The freedom.

I hear a door shut. I can hear my neighbors upstairs. I don’t know them. I never will. I am leaving and I will never have said hello.

I sit at the traffic light often, waiting, almost home, or almost to work, or almost to somewhere. I watch people drive by, alone, their turn to move. No more waiting. Still ignoring everyone except those who might cross their path.

We made this world. It has grown up with us. We raised it, taught it how to behave, how to drive, how to wait. We showed it what to care about, what not to. Together we ignore the man standing in the middle of the road with a sign. We tell ourselves he doesn’t need us. He’s a trick. He’s a lie. We can’t love him like we love our mother, we’d never get home to her. Maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s not.

I am not done searching. I haven’t found anything yet. All I can do is keep going and hope the world doesn’t ruin me. It hasn’t so far.

I love you.

winter palms

November 27, 2016
Musings
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It is dark and 1 am and the cat is sneezing somewhere in the kitchen. The blinds are slightly open and I keep seeing this ghost of light fly from the top of the doorframe to the ceiling. At first I thought it was the cat but then I realized there’s nothing there to jump on.

It’s 1 am and there’s still traffic outside; there are too many people here so they never sleep and always drive their cars. People are always busy but I never see them get anything done. Everyone says they’re creative or musical but I don’t see it. What the hell are people doing here? I look out the window to see my car parked on the road, taking up whatever piece of cement it can.

I don’t know what people are doing out there, but the blinds are closed now and the cat is sleeping on my pillow. It’s so expensive to live here I don’t think people have time to do anything but work to make money and then use the rest of their time spending their money on things that are easy to buy: fancy cars and expensive clothes and whatever health or food thing is popular. Do people even talk to each other? I don’t know. I’m remembering this one time a grown woman from here recorded herself crying on her laptop and sent it out. I don’t think that’s the way to deal with sadness but maybe it’s the easiest way. If you send picture proof you don’t have to talk about it or think about it after you push a button.

It is not worse or better here than elsewhere, not yet. It is almost December and the tourists still come to take pictures of the palm trees. The palm trees are still lovely. And now they are covered with lights and giant decorative snowflakes hang down from them in a place where it never snows.

sweet and salty

September 8, 2016
Californiacation, Musings, Topics
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I am almost in tears standing in the cereal aisle staring at the price tags on the granola bars. Three dollars. Three fucking dollars. I grab a box and tuck it into my basket, because everyone needs snacks. Even me, even for three dollars.

Wandering around the store, and out of it, I wonder what everyone does for a living. I want to ask them, I want to walk up to them and say, ‘excuse me, I see you’re looking very well put together, how do you manage to make money in this city?’

I don’t do it, but I keep thinking it, keep wondering. On my walk home I pass a cardboard sign that someone has taped to a streetlight. It is large and written with black marker. It says, “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” Some homeless man took the time, and the ink from his marker, to write this and post it up for all of us people walking by to see. 

Walking home with my granola bars stuffed into my backpack, I nervously spin my phone in circles in my hand. I need a job. I need a job. I need a job. There are so many stories of people who went to a city almost penniless and made it. But how did they make it? How do I make it? There are so many people here. There are so many people walking with me, crossing streets, running, biking, rolling along on their skateboards. Driving. They all have a place. There must be a place for me. I have to be able to contribute to this. It’s been a week of looking. A week. I can’t tell if a week is forever or no time at all. It feels like both. My phone spins in my hand as I turn the corner.

The street I’m staying on is nice. Somehow there is always parking, even in the middle of Los Angeles, and there are trees and plants along the sidewalk. A lovely place to walk, and a lovely place to be. There’s this huge, leafy palm plant that catches my eye as I walk toward it. It’s very green and calming somehow, just sitting there, growing. The trees are pushing up the sidewalks as we walk on them, going wherever it is we’re going.

I feel a little bad for being afraid or being worried, because I’m fine, really. I have friends to help me, and a family who cares about me, even if they are across the country. I have plenty of access to cardboard and markers. I have a roof to sleep under. I have time. I have some kind of place already. I have granola bars. But I no longer have that three dollars.

 

waging a war

August 3, 2013
Musings
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Here’s a question for you: What are you most afraid of?

Me? Not the dark, or heights, or strangers. I’m afraid of living the wrong life.

I’m afraid that I’ll take a job in San Francisco, or Los Angeles, because it’s in San Francisco, or Los Angeles, and I’m afraid I’ll be satisfied with doing a job that isn’t satisfying, and, therefore, living a life that isn’t satisfying.

Maybe me saying this negates all my worries. Maybe I’m  waging a war that hasn’t happened yet; that won’t.

Maybe what I’m most afraid of is not being able to find it, the job I always assumed was waiting for me, somewhere. I still believe it’s out there, I just don’t know how to find it, where to look. I’m afraid I’ll miss it, pass over some link on the internet, or walk by the man wearing a puffy winter coat (I’m imagining this will take place in Chicago, in the winter, of course.) who could make it all happen.

Then again, I feel like if I can’t find what it is I’m looking for in San Fran or LA or wherever I end up, I’ll just make it. I’ll make my dream job. I honestly believe it’s possible.

This is my war, my battle. My I-just-graduated-college-and-have-to-find-a-job battle. I’m off into the real world (because people tell me the real world is a real thing), yet refusing to let the real world happen to me the way I’ve always expected it to attempt to.

And yet here, at the end of this thought, I’m still left where I was when I began a few sentences back. The war is still waging, the fear is still real, and there’s no one-liner that can end it.

Things To Do When You Are Bored In An Airport

June 3, 2013
Californiacation
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I’m in California. Again.

You can't tell, put this picture contains the head and backpack of the British boy I met at LAX and temporarily planned on marrying.

You can’t tell, but this picture contains the head and backpack of the British boy I met at LAX and temporarily planned on marrying.

I’ve been here for two days now, wandering around the scary-busy streets of Los Angeles and getting a sun burn. It’s been fun, though, if that previous sentence doesn’t prove it. I’m staying with a friend, and her friend (who’s from England), and her friend (who’s also from England). It’s turned into a USA vs. England competition, which so far has brought a lot of humor (not humour) to the dinner table, phone conversations, etc. Basically everything.

We’re staying in L.A. for four days at a hostel/hotel. Because it’s a hostel/hotel, there are tons of people here from elsewhere (read: not America) and the poolside hangouts we’ve been having quite frequently are even more entertaining because of it.

But, before all of that, there was the trip here. The four of us were set to meet up at LAX – which was fine, except for my flight landed at Long Beach air port. I left from Detroit, got another plane from Phoenix, and booked a shuttle bus from Long Beach to LAX. During my layover in Phoenix, I got bored, and typed the following useful information on my Ipod:

Things to do when you are bored in an airport:

Stare. At people. Out the window. At the T.V. on mute and is so far away you can’t see what it says anyway.

Play “Guess the Air Marshall”. Consider every man in a suit. The Asian girl. The man who ran up to the terminal late. The old guy reading a newspaper. The toddler?

Fiddle with every loose belonging you’ve shoved into the side flaps of your carry-on bag, Laptop bag, purse, etc. Fiddle for at least thirty minutes.

Closely examine everyone around you in a stealthy way, glancing away right before they catch you looking. This skill takes some time to develop, but that’s fine, because all you have is time.

Examine your surroundings. Take note of every electrical outlet – not because you need to charge your cell phone (although you might if you’ve been playing large amounts of Tetris) but because you’ve got nothing better to do.

Read. Wait, what? You didn’t bring a book? Don’t worry, crappy magazines are available for $8 in your nearest terminal convenience store. 

not everyone can be everything

April 9, 2013
Musings
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Not everyone can be everything. This is still something I’m struggling with. Someone has to be onstage at a concert, someone has to be the crowd. Someone has to mop the floors at McDonalds, someone has to collect the neighborhood’s trash. Someone has to work at  that grocery store for thirty years, wearing the same blue-collared shirt until it goes threadbare, wearing the same faded black pants until the boss declares it’s time for a new pair. Not everyone can be everything. Not everyone wants to be. This is still something I’m struggling with. The cashier likes her job, she likes to talk to people. The janitor hums while he mops. They aren’t in constant pain. They’re okay. I can’t understand it. I’m not like that.

“This is why there’s smog in L.A., because if there wasn’t, if people could see the stars, they’d realize how tiny they are, and they’d never audition for a McDonalds commercial ever again.”

At a concert, someone’s on the stage. In the crowd, the people stand, watching, swaying, singing, bobbing their heads. The performer has his dream, but the people have dreams, too. They want something like what’s on that stage — maybe not that exact thing, but something. Not everyone can be everything, but everyone can be something. I don’t understand what happens to those dreams. This is something I’m still struggling with.

Californiacation, pt 8

July 18, 2012
Californiacation
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This is it. This is the day I leave California. Leave LA, leave this beautiful ocean-bordered state and go back into the scorching desert.

Also known as Las Vegas.

Yes, all this is in the write-up for today, but we didn’t head back to Vegas first thing in the morning. Why? Well, one look at the weather forecast for Vegas gave us pause; it was 108 degrees there – at 10 in the morning – and it was only expected to get hotter.

Sure, that’s a dry heat, but, still, we decided it would be best to stay in LA’s cooler weather for a bit longer.

That was totally ok with me, because I really didn’t want to go back to Vegas at all. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to California. Not yet.

So, what does one do in the middle of somewhere in LA with a few hours to kill?

Go to the movies!

Which is what we did – after breakfast, of course.

Breakfast. We were used to having breakfast at breakfast time at this point in our trip, so I whipped out my handy-dandy phone and used Urban Spoon to locate us some foodstuffs.

We ended up at this place called Dinah’s family restaurant, and my pancakes had strawberries on top of them and I had fresh-squeezed California orange juice and I was a very happy camper.

LA seems to be hectically busy at all times. Dinah’s was packed from the moment we got there until the moment with left, with the wait-staff eager for us to finish as soon as they set us down with fresh silverware. (I realized later that it was a Sunday morning… in LA… so, understandable.) Very busy.

I wonder if there are ever empty roads in LA, like there are at home in Michigan. At 3AM, is there still traffic on the 405?

Again, though, I will ask the question – What does one do when they’ve got a few hours to kill? (You, enthusiastically: “Go to the movies!!” Me: “That’s right!”)

We had to drive a whole 2 miles to the nearest movie theatre. Good grief, LA! We happened upon this cool little mall-sort-of-complex – with $2 parking! Hello! Will take!

Then, The Amazing Spiderman happened. During the movie, I found myself thinking: “Didn’t I see this movie already? Didn’t they just make this movie? Really, I’m supposed to believe that Emma Stone is 17 years old? Ooh, hello there, Andrew Garfield! Wait, he doesn’t shoot webs out of his hands?! WTF?” Etc.

It was a good flick, though.

Overall.

You know?

Yeah.

Ok – I’m just stalling! The next part of my journey is coming up and I don’t want to think about it let alone write it all out in excruciating detail!

…

Then we left California.

Nicole drove, so I got to sit in the passenger seat and stare glumly out the window as LA disappeared, and the entire state of Cali flew by. It was honestly kind of a beautiful life moment, though. While I was in California, I realized how much more there is in the world that a lot of people miss out on. I don’t know why they do. Voluntarily. I found myself thinking that, in a year, after I graduate from college, I could move out there – to California. Or, I could go anywhere. It was kind of a wonderful realization.

Yes, I had to leave behind California and all of the wonderful places I had been – but, I could come back. Or, I could keep going – to new places; see the world.

The world is as big as you let it be.

We drove East to Vegas, (while I booked a hotel on my, yes you guessed it, phone) and spent the night at the Tropicana hotel.

The end.

Wait, no. There’s more! A lot more. We were in Vegas, baby! And we weren’t ready to stop exploring just yet.

Nicole had never been to Vegas, though as this was my third time there, and I felt like a Vegas pro. So, we wandered out to walk the strip – and find dinner, of course! Who do you think we are?

Uh, Vegas is hot. Like, really hot. Yes, sure, it’s a dry heat – but that’s like saying the inside of your oven is a dry heat. That’s pretty much where I felt I was – inside of an oven – as we journeyed down the strip and snapped some photographs. After a half hour of baking, we decided to duck into Outback Steakhouse, and out of the heat.

I then proceeded to guzzle down three glasses of water.

Nicole got her steak, and I my burger and fries, and we sat there munching happily as the cute waiter guy came back every 5 minutes to refill our water glasses.

Oh – did I tell you the story about the waiter guy? No? Let me fill you in!

He was cute. And funny. And, it turned out, from Michigan! Just like we were! Was it a sign?! Also, he was pretty great at bringing us water. That’s how you know he’s a good catch.

Anyway, that happened, and we left Outback with very full stomachs – and my number on the receipt! Oh my god! That happened! Yes, it did!

It was kind of a big deal to me – I don’t give random guys my number! But, hey, I do now. Or, maybe I only do that in Vegas. (What happens there…)

He wouldn’t text me anyway, right? It was just a funny, exciting thing to do.

We pretty much ran out of that restaurant so we wouldn’t see him on the way out. So much for us being daring souls, right?

Then, back to the Tropicana. We were so tired! Stretched out on our (very comfortable) beds, we watched T.V. for a little while. It was getting late. Wait, no, it was late! It was midnight! When had that happened? Time for bed?

Then, I realized, we hadn’t had a drink yet.

When we first set off on this adventure, we talked about how one night we should go to a bar and have a drink. Newly 21, this sounded like an exciting idea to both of us. However, we found ourselves there, in Vegas, on the last night of our trip, with no drinks on our record. What? Unacceptable!

So, we went out. Again. Into the Las Vegas night.

And it was still fucking hot. 110 degrees at midnight? Really?

Nicole was on a mission to find an icy sort of fruity drink. What we ended up with was large cups of pink, icy, pretend-strawberry margaritas. Honestly, I have no idea what they were. We found an outside bar (with these cool fans that blew water on you!) that had some sort of pink business sloshing around inside a machine, and ordered two.

It was really, horribly strong. But I drank the whole thing. With lots of grimaces.

Then, we went back to the Tropicana and went to sleep.

Oh, wait! No we didn’t! I mean, yeah, that was the plan – but then waiter guy texted me!

I may have been a little too excited about the whole thing, but I’ll just blame that drink I had. Anyway, I then busted into the bathroom while my friend was in the shower and proceeded to cackle hysterically while attempting to explain that the waiter guy had just texted me.

It was a good night.

It was a good last day of our vacation.

And as I continued to cackle for the next hour or so, I realized that we still had almost an entire day left of our adventures before our plane ride home. The fun wasn’t over yet!

Californiacation, pt 7

July 13, 2012
Californiacation
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More free hotel waffles for breakfast in San Francsico!

Then, we were out of that town…

And on our way back to LA.

I was pretty excited about that fact – more LA!

I guess I’ve sort of fallen in love with that city. It just seems like something is always happening there.

So knowing that I was going to be able to spend another night there before I headed home, well, let’s just say the 6-hour drive back from San Fran to LA went a little bit faster.

It was a sad drive, though, going back.

Going back.

I don’t like going back! And going back to LA was exciting, but it also marked the first leg of our return journey home.

I wasn’t ready to leave! I didn’t want to go! Say it isn’t so!

Sometimes you have to pull yourself together a little bit, and make sure you’re focusing on the present. Which is what I did, and then I realized that I still had three whole days left of my adventures.

I’m going to skip telling you about the 6-hour drive, which was uneventful, but I do want to describe me attempting to drive up what must have been the steepest road in San Francisco, and possibly in all of California.

My car wouldn’t go! I had to floor the gas in order to get up that hill. And, to make the situation even better – there was a stop sign at the top! So, I had to stop my car once I got there, and then attempt to turn off of the road without rolling backwards and smashing into the car behind me.

Sure, I pulled it off smoothly (with minimum honking from the car behind me), but it was quite a stressful and interesting experience!

And then the whole 6-hour drive thing happened.

And then, we were partying at the Holiday Inn!

Not really. But the room was really nice! I love a good, cheap, quality hotel room! That will make or break your night as a traveler. (Wow, look at me pretending I’m a seasoned traveler now! After a week! Ha!)

Then, we were off! Guess where? To get food. Typical.

As everyone and their mother had told me about In N Out burger, that was our fancy restaurant of choice for our last night in LA.

When we pulled in to In N Out, there must have been 30 cars in the take out line, waiting to order – and that many people inside the building itself, both ordering and waiting for their food. So, I thought, this place must be good!

I ordered a number one – cheeseburger, fries, medium drink.

And, honestly, I didn’t get it.

I still don’t! Why is In N out so popular? Jack in the box is way better! Yet, there was not a mile-long line at Jack in the box. Am I missing something here? I really feel like I am! Sheesh, just when I thought I was beginning to understand LA.

I mean, In N out was good, but not great. It just tasted… well… like a hamburger! Ah! Help, somebody! I’m so confused!

Anyway, then we headed back to the Holiday Inn for the night. I really like saying “Holiday Inn” because it just reminds me of that one song. You know the one.

Californiacation, pt 5

July 7, 2012
Californiacation
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I’ve fallen in love in California.

His name is … frozen yogurt.

Yes, it’s true, I’ve found a new love. It is either very good or very bad that there are no frozen yogurt shops where I live. Both, I guess.

Yesterday we drove from LA to San Francisco.

The end.

Really, the drive took 6 hours, and it took another hour to find our hotel. So by the time we got settled in, it was getting late, and cold, in our new town.

But since we were starving, as per usual, we went out in search of chow – and got our first pedestrian glimpse of San Fran.

The first thing I noticed were the buildings. They’re small, compared to the buildings of LA, and cramped closely together – packed in tight on the hilly roads that are found here. They are beautiful – they look old, at least by big-city standards. The hotel we’re staying in here in San Fran is one of these buildings, and I can tell from the way it’s built that it’s definitely not a modern building. I think these structures give San Francisco a certain charm – and because of them I fell in love with the city a little bit as soon as I stepped foot into it.

I noticed the people of San Fran next. There were a lot of them – locals and tourists. I can always spot a local, no matter what city I find myself in. They have a certain look about them. They dress like they know what they’re doing. They know where they’re going and they plan to get there. The tourists here are similar to those found in other parts of California that I’ve seen – although here they’ve brought out their sweaters and long pants. Oh, did I mention – it’s cold here!

I guess I forgot that during our 6-hour drive, we were headed north. Northern California is cold, you guys! I am so glad I packed one pair of jeans and one sweater! Without them, I don’t think I’d make it here…

But, more about the people.

For some reason, I couldn’t figure this crowd out right away. Like, in LA, I felt like I understood them, like I knew how to blend in and make my way around. But here, even if I hadn’t had a bright-red sunburnt face, I felt like an outsider.

Suddenly, I didn’t know how to function. Walking down the road, I wondered, “Do I make eye contact? Do I stare at the ground? Do I smile? What do I do?”

I guess the etiquette here just seems different than LA – and it probably is. While still a big city, San Francisco is very different than Los Angeles.

Hopefully I’ll pick it up tomorrow as we explore the town.

Oh, and I almost forgot the good part!

We had Pizza Hut for dinner.

It is amazing how wonderful it feels carrying food “home” after not eating all day, and knowing that soon you will have a full belly.

And that is a fact I’m sure all San Franciscans can agree with. Yeah? See, I’m beginning to understand you already!