Freedom

So I got in my first car accident this week. I'm totally fine, and Delilah only has a broken turn-signal light on her front left side, but I guess it counts as an accident. Ironically, I wrote the following prose two days before my accident. Life's funny like that, right?

Freedom

I am lumbering forward, onto worn asphalt that is a rural quilt of patches and scrapes. Steam is rising from the ancient road, recovering from an early-summer deluge that preceded my ride by a few hours. I am passing through familiar, bucolic countryside that has since prepared for its nightly slumber. I show no regard to my inky still surroundings, and I disrupt the black night with the two beams of light emanating from the front of my ride. With the windows down, loud and fast music wafts into the night. I know I'm instigating an awakening--albeit a brief one, yet I show no regret, or cause for concern. I am preoccupied with my own dissatisfaction. With a cigarette in my left hand, and my fell phone in my right, I manage to fumble the wheel in the right general direction, using my knees, and the car's intuition to do the rest. No, this is not safe. But that's never been my biggest priority. At this moment, I am deep in thought.

Some people have their designated nook or cranny in the world, where they can go and allow their mind to diffuse, or mull over something. My place just happens to be on wheels. It acts as a place for travel, for recreation, for 'business meetings', and as an occasional cure for boredom.

At this point in time, it is helping me to solve my most recent self-inflicted problem, loneliness. For some reason, I've been stricken by a dampening mood, and no desire to see anyone. Paradoxically, I am sad because of my solidarity. You could call this self-induced discontentment. I would prefer to call it PMS.

I go through the mental motions of restless, nostalgic, self-doubting, and plain gloomy. I feel the best solution would be to drive, with no destination. I have an immediate desire to get lost. Maybe the land of the unfamiliar will cure me of my current funk. Or maybe it will scare me out of my adolescent ho-hummings, and make me thankful to get back to familiar terrirory; counting my blessings as I safely close my front door behind me at the end of my adventure. At this point, either outcome is possible. I'm not planning the now that's unfurling itself before my four wheels. Rather, I'm just auto-piloting through silent territories of countryside, pioneering a trail to my own mind's content. 

Stories, Shotgun

So I have this new summer project. It's more of an intellectual challenge,  but I'm stubborn enough to try it. I've decided this summer I'm keeping a list, "the compendium", of all things that happen to me this summer that make for a good story. I will, every so often, look at the memories from the list, and reflect upon one like a narrative. These things are stories of funny/bizarre things that happen to me, shitty things, and great days. I'm calling it Stories from Summer (a working title). It will be something to look forward to in the future. I have a few of the stories written, theyre fun. This project was inspired by a book I'm reading called 'I Was Told There'd Be Cake' by Sloane Crosley. It's kind of a girl-version of Tucker Max (much less vulgar), and is reminiscent of the writer's voice and setting of a young Carrie Bradshaw. DEFINITELY read this book if you come across it, its hilarious. 

Also, I'm considering starting another smaller project that documents all the people who have/will ride shotgun in my car this summer. It would be aptly called "Shotgun Summer 09" and I'm thinking of having a log or some kind of documenting of who rides as my co-pilot. I just think at the end of the summer it would be cool to see how  many people I've chilled with in my car, and the variety of people as well. It would also be neat to see who do I actually drive around the most? Who's the most random person, things like that. I thought it would be cool to have a disposable cam over on that side of the car, for entertainment purposes,  but I'll probably nix that idea. Flahsbulbs at night in cars don't make for flattering photos. 

wonderings on the wind down.

"OH instincts are misleading

You shouldn't think what you're feeling

They don't tell you what you know you should want. " -death cab.

Maybe there is a second first time for everything. 

I've been adapting to summer mode for a little over a week now. It's much better than I anticipated. I'm surprisingly charmed with being back in Doylestown, and it seems I'd forgotten a few of my favorite things while away at college; these things include playing/making music (I wiped a thick layer of dust off of my violin upon returning home), driving (delilah is happy to have me back), the gazebo, blasting shitty pop punk music and driving through the countryside, and alone time. I feel like there's a serious loss of alone time at school, but I'm back to only child mode, and I can do pretty well by myself for extended periods of time. It's refreshing. I never realized how much I missed these things. 

     So, what the hell am I doing with my time? This week, I slept until at least 1pm every day. sweeeeet. i've been catching up with some friends, and cruising around with them. Also, I've been cleaning and rearranging the room, unpacking the life I brought home in assorted duffle bags from 80 Boylston, Boston, Ma. Aside from that I've been having some fun, smoking too much, and job searching. Today was my first day at Gerenser's Ice Cream in New Hope. After the first day I can tell it's gonna be a long summer. But a fun summer. It's a cool job, without much responsibility, and all the free ice cream I can manage to eat. It is what it is. And it's a job. Thank goodness. 

        Yesterday was my first day upon returning home to escape suburbia. I took an impromtu trip up to NYC to visit the darling Christopher Hutton (working stiff extrordinaire), and I also got to spend time with Amelia & Michaela (and some guest star friends), who managed to meet me in beautiful May-smitten Manhattan. As soon as I reached street level after exiting Penn Station, I saw three homeless people and countless cigarette smokers. I kind of miss the rough edges of city living. Alas, I'm adapting to slower paces for the time being. I'm predicting in a month's time I'll be in full-on summer mode. This means bronze hippie-ness, curly hair, and more of an interest in...interests, doing stuff I want to do because I like it, not because I'm required to. ex: Reading Voltaire, painting my room, writing a lot.

I hope when you read this you think about your summer self. It's always different than the normal, structured self of the school year. This is the off season. What freedoms do you adapt to? What activities have you started again, that maybe you forgot about?

PS. This happened to me yesterday. It made my day. 

http://www.iwon25bucks.com/

(This big prize patrol interviews you on the street and gives you 25 bucks, just for being you. Cool, thanks!!)