Another Day 1

near the Pyramid Lake visitor's center, which was closed

Hello, internet. How are you, internet?

I'm exhausted and nothing too eventful happened today. I did things and went places and spent money and changed plans, and while today is important symbolically, there are no crazy encounters to report.

So just some pictures from the first leg of my first solo road trip.


Some of the blurry ones appeal to me, like the world is softened by dull focus, and is somehow more inviting




yeah, my windshield is mega-dirty












I was supposed to be in a campground... somewhere... tonight, but got a very late start and figured it'd be easier to stay in a motel where I wouldn't have to worry about setting up a tent after dark, or whether or not the campground would be full. On the upside: I'm less than 200 miles from the campground I'll stay in tomorrow night so I can take my time and do more exploring and some arting, hopefully.

It's not going to stop, is it?

I like how this one reminds me of the view from a plane while flying


Tuesday: dropping Reagan at Camp Pendleton and dinner with a new acquaintance (driving and social)
Wednesday: lunch and shopping with Carol, dinner and hanging out with Draco (double social)
Thursday: Six mile (2 hour) walk with my mom (travel (similar to driving?) and social)
Friday: going to Victorville to spend time with my brother and his family (driving and social)
Saturday: returning home with a new stereo (thankyouthankyouthankyou!) while feeling slight pains of having too much fun the previous night (driving)
---right now---
Sunday: repeat trip to Camp Pendleton to spend a couple hours with Reagan and take care of some little things on base (driving)
Monday: get maps from AAA, wait for my last package to arrive, drive to Big Sur to camp. (DRIVING!!)

And from that Monday, I'll be... out there. out in the world. For longer than I ever have been, alone or with others.

It's a good thing I enjoy both being alone and being behind the wheel. I sent a text message to Reagan today saying I'll be part transformer by the end of this trip.

Ah, in any case, this post is important to me (and has an attitude of slightly drooped shoulders, but that physical exhaustion is minor compared to the mental joy) because a few hours ago I heard from Reagan. He told me he had on-base liberty with visitors tomorrow. Sunday was my last day pre-trip, my day to rest up, run a few errands, do last minute packing.

Arg. *fallsover*

It's not going to stop any time soon, but I don't plan on stopping either.

And since I won't be stopping, I'll have to do a lot of my photo-taking from the driver's seat and come up with stuff like this.

(Pretty much all of these were taken in slow traffic by pointing my camera in the general direction of what I wanted to capture and pushing buttons. safe driving is more important than photos. :) )

The lateness amazes me

Chronologically, I'm one day closer to taking to the road. Can't say if I'm that much more prepared. Have spent the evening with my brother and his wife, and it's been great times. But I've missed Reagan extra.

My car will have a new stereo in the morning. But for now, here are a couple pictures of the letters I sent Reagan while he was in boot camp.

The pile of what he got from me over three months:


A sampling of a few of the paintings I mailed:


Close up of the last piece, with help from Sarah :)


Example of a typical letter. Many pages had more text or less paint than this:


And a macro look at all the mail Reagan received (a little of it not from me ;) ):

I'm astounded at the hour, but very glad I'm here in Victorville, and have some nifty photos of the drive up when I get a chance.

Midnight photo snack

No crazy adventures today, unless you count a two hour walk with my mom.

Other that, I was inside packing bags. Well, I took one break to walk on my own earlier in the day. Even though it ate up more of my oh-so-precious time, I took a few minutes after my first trip around the block to grab the watercolor set that has lain untouched since I returned to CA.



The mountains looked transparent in the haze. Our local hills are much more likely to be wrapped in smog than mist, but today was relatively humid, and it was mainly water vapor obscuring the slopes.

Other than that, today has been spent inhaling and exhaling chaos. My room is a universe of stuff, expanding and contracting. Order and organization break over the accumulated things in waves as I gather, sort, then put clothes, toys, shoes, papers, and odd ends. Much of the day my bed was a map of thoughts... pens and pencils collected over here, food items over there, a pile of bags, and other little things I didn't quite know what to do with.

I've managed to rough out a basic structure for everything I'm packing. One bag for day use, one small bag for camping (clothes and such, camping gear gets a box of its own), one medium bag for staying in town with friends, one large bag for things I'll want in MD. A backpack for electronic goodies, a messenger bag for art supplies, a tote for knitting, and so on.

A disproportionate amount of Peter Gabriel is being played on my iPod tonight. Not that I'm complaining. Shuffle has been very good to me. I've only skipped one song out of 60.

There's a photo of Reagan hanging on a wall near the kitchen. I see it every time I go downstairs. He's in the dress blues coat, wearing a hat, and looking very stern with an American flag in the background. The context of the photo doesn't consciously influence me, but I miss him each time I glimpse the picture.

I test-packed my clothes in their various receptacles, but when I got to socks and underwear, the bags didn't have proper pockets for segregating them. Luckily the sewing machine (and my boxes and bags of fabric) were still arrayed in the dining room. A couple hours later....



The sock bags (pieced-together ones) have some... issues... and the seams on the fancy looking ones are far from professional, but they will service. I have a habit of being very scrappy in my sewing, improvising everything. Rarely do I follow a pattern faithfully. I keep telling myself "next time I'll do what I'm told and even iron the seams open when it says to" but that particular "next time" has yet to come around.

Besides those little bags from fabric scraps and a pair of exercise pants cut down from a extra large thrifted pair, my other recent project is the purse-like bag I'm replacing my old green bag with.



Again, fully improvised with what I had on hand. The only thing purchased with this bag in mind was the zipper, although I used the bag without it for a week. The top part folds over like so:



And take a peek inside:


Usually it has more stuff in it, but I was making a few improvements last night. I love how it has all the right pockets. The right things fit in the right places! Except my keys. I didn't account for them, so I still have to dig around to find them sometimes. Or perhaps one of the outside pockets was intended for keys, and my new camera displaced them.

Tightly wound

Yesterday left off at the beach --

--but my day by no means ended after I lunched on cold potato soup, fresh bread, hummus, and carrots. I splashed through the water a bit on the way back to my car, the last wave breaking over my knees and soaking the hem of my skirt. No matter, it's an acute memory of the day that makes me smile.

I made some "bad" highway choices on the way back, knowing the general direction of home and the freeways that would take me there. The traffic was horrendous, but I generally don't mind such things, and spent a nice hour nestled between awe inspiring and gorgeous hills.


(hm, looks like I need to clean my windows!)


(and give my camera a talking-to)

One of the roads I took was the 91, which is notorious for being packed with cars. It was, but slow traffic and unfamiliar freeway together spun the tumblers of my imagination and unlocked my idea vault, and I jotted down some ideas during moments of "stop" in the stop-and-go. The hills got me thinking about islands and continental drift, and also dinosaurs. The masses of wedged together cars even brought to mind a tale about an intergalactic ferry being hijacked and stranded in unfamiliar space.

I miss my husband

The 91 led me to the 15--

I seem to think that if I say this at random intervals and write it wherever is handy when I feel the urge, that someday Reagan will find the notes covering our walls or filling notebooks, or etched in the memories of our friends, and realize how important he is to me.

-- so the 91 to I-15, a very familiar interstate. Familiarity leads to comfort, and sometimes it's easier to be creative when that part of my brain isn't comfortable. Once I knew what was coming physically, I started thinking about what was ahead of me in other ways. Planning and fretting, those kinds of things.

The freeway I was on, however, did take me to a shopping area that had not one, but two camping stores, both of which enriched my day. I spent money at the second, not the first, but at the first an employee chatted me up as I walked by. After patronizing the second, I returned to the first and asked said employee if he wanted to continue our conversation after he got off work. I amazed myself with my boldness yesterday.

Lou (making music as Voice on Tape) agreed, adding that it was his birthday and he had no plans. ANNIE TO THE RESCUE!

Going out for dinner... initially he mentioned Olive Garden, but changed his mind mid-drive and directed me to an Indian place ("Yoshinoya! Sorry, but no. I have to draw the line somewhere")... that catered part of my wedding reception (next to Yoshinoya). Very tasty food.

After dropping him off, I stopped in for a bit to view the art of Jon Carling and listen to music, some of it Lou's. (another link to his myspace profile). I dug it. Quite lots.

I'm sad that I'm leaving the state so soon for so long and won't have another chance to hang out with him, or any chance to hear him play. Kicking back with the artist, listening to their music in cool blue light is one thing, but nothing matches the vibe of a live show. WE'LL ALWAYS HAVE MYSPACE.

Another beautiful moment: he plugged my iPod into his stereo and put on some Phillip Glass (Changing Opinions). I was blown away by hearing it on real speakers instead of just headphones.

--

Today was less groundbreaking, but another jam-packed day... Lunch with Carol (great salad from a local Portuguese/European cafe), then a bunch of shopping for various crafty things. My bag has a zipper now, and I made a new pair of yoga/workout pants. Both of those things were accomplished (the pants were cut down from larger pants using a pair I know fit as a pattern) while hanging out with Draco later in the day.

Now I'm exhausted, listening to Hannah's music and trying to work up the ooo-rah to do some cleaning, or at least yoga.

Inexact Science

My day looked something like that. I drew in two locations: the beach after lunch, and outside Bass Pro Shop waiting for an employee to get off work. Both sessions were short, but better than nothing.

I dropped Reagan off as planned, and on time, although several things changed on the fly, such as not stopping at the bank, not getting Wings&Things, and R taking his iPhone with him instead of leaving it with me.

One of the sweetest things he said to me on the drive down was that he wanted to listen to my music, that it would calm him down and reassure him more than his own tunes could. Awww.

before leaving home

Driving on base was different this time, still very strange and alien, but in the back of my mind I was thinking "I belong here or at least I'm not a foreigner." I didn't get to/have to use my Military ID, though.

Heading towards home, I had no need to rush back, so turned off I-5 when I saw signs for Laguna. We've talked about living there if Reagan is stationed at Pendleton, this seemed like a decent opportunity to poke around. And I wanted to see the ocean.

It seems like a strange part of my day to focus on, but stopping for a grocery lunch was actually quite nice. A man who worked in the produce department whom I had passed and said hello to earlier asked if I needed anything when I had trouble finding bags.
The man in line behind me offered to let me use his club card. A woman complimented my hair as I left the store, and continued the chat beyond just "hello" and "thank you."

More driving led me to the coast! The first place I tried to park to eat said lunch didn't work out; none of the parking machines were operating correctly, and I had no small bills. The second place ended up being me picking a spot along highway 1 and feeding a meter.

UNH! Cliffhanger! I am exhausted.

Better things to do.

I have been musing these busy days, and this window has sat open for a dozen minutes or more. Then I realized that I may not get another evening with Reagan for nearly four months, so I'm going to enjoy my cheese and crackers and husband away from the keyboard.

Ciao!

There are exciting things on the horizon, and I hope to be in a position to tell you all about them.

Computers: Just another way to feel rootless

It should feel like I'm at the end of a race, but getting my husband back on Friday was just another checkpoint on this unbearably long road to stability.

Even though I'm in a familiar room with a familiar person and piles of familiar stuff around us (including familiar sheets on the bed), I can't return to the comfort of how things were three months ago.

My computer is different, half of my desk is gone, and the bed is arranged differently, too. Drawing could help ground me, anchor me to something safe, but with my physical and digital workspaces being altered, I can't find that studio so easily.

Drawing was a zen practice when I could give my computer loose parameters and be offered a delightful selection of references. Now I am much more conscious of being involved in picking out what I'm drawing. It's a choice rather than an assignment, and therefore I judge my performance more harshly.

Emotionally, I'm out of sorts, too. I have Reagan here with me, but the 10 days we have together are fewer than the days apart before and the days apart after this phase. I can't get too comfortable. And yet I can't prepare for what I'm doing for the month during his combat training, or even the 2.5 months of schooling that will follow that.

This is the last lap (I so very much hope) of multiple years of rootless limbo, but truly things are darkest before the dawn.

Info Loss

Back in CA.
I'm hanging out in Victor-Chill.

Last night my brother handed back my deceased hard drive and said, "When this is back at room temperature, put it back in the anti-static bag, put it in a box, put it on the shelf. When you make a bunch of money in the next few years and can afford a couple grand, give it to the pros. They'll put the platters in a new device and you can get your data back."

I think about what's on there that I'm missing, I wonder if it's worth the cost.

A year of pictures (2008)? Rather big deal.
Two years of collected references? Sentimental deal, but acceptable loss.
A year of random mp3s collected from the internet? Annoying loss.
Personal art and work? Don't actually care that much.

The last two I never considered in the initial gutting, but now that things are certainly lost, I do notice the lack.

What I miss the most: story notes.

Story notes are gone and will never come back. Off the top of my head I can think of four solid ideas that each had a few hours of development done on them. A few hours each isn't spectacular, but comparing that to the few minutes I've spent on most others, it feels like a big deal. I can't remember the last time I had an idea that could be built into the size of a novel. :|

I need to get cracking, tap into those wells again, plant some seeds. Starting over from nothing (or near nothing) is painful, but considering how much I've changed since I first taped out those ideas, so brilliant in retrospect, it may be better to begin from scratch instead of returning to and renovating concepts that may not have aged well.

This has been the funeral for my dearly departed data.

Mourning over.