(no subject)
Alright. So. I'm home.
I guess no one really reads my journal anymore, probably because I don't really write in it. I don't really mind though. I just need to get some stuff down once in a while, and sometimes publicly is the way to go with this. Sometimes.
I just spent two weeks driving across (half) the country. It was an enlightening experience, if only because I rediscovered my love for national parks (and any sort of natural beauty), and had way too much time in the car to stare out the window and think about things.
In case you care, here's our story (I'm thinking I'll break it up into seperate entries. Too much to say to fit it into one):
The cast:
Me (duh)- overly introspective and totally lost student who just finished freshmen year of college, but is probably going to start school all over next year on the other side of the ocean (despite her doubts that are multiplying like rabbits on espresso)
Maggie - One of the two people I spent the year in a Trouble with. From California. Finds the whole east coast to be not at all like the west, and thus dismisses it frequently and mercilessly in front of its natives. Incredibly moody. Likes to go for long periods without talking. Still, somehow can be quite a fun person to hang out with. I think most of her mood was just from the "poor" weather on the east coast, and not seeing her dog Zoe. Transferring to UC Merced next year. Two hours from home, and a new smaller school.
Audie- Lived on my hall. Owner of car which was to be driven back to Colorado, her home state. Has the best, most contagious laugh of anyone I have ever met, and uses it frequently. Incredibly patient, but also not confrontational. This means you can never really tell what she thinks of much of anything (including you and your behavior). Transferring to Michigan next year. Goucher is too small, so go BIG.
*** NOTE: We are all transferring next year, and live pretty much as far from each other as possible. Thus, we don't know when (or if) we will see each other again.
Day 1: We leave early-ish, take one last loop around Goucher. Maggie doesn't seemed at all moved, but Audie does. I am of course moved, despite the fact that I will probably see it again very soon, because symbolic things like this always get to me. Afterwards, we go to Trader Joe's and use Maggie's gift card to buy supplies:
-Dried Berry Medly (blueberries, strawberries, cherries)
-Golden Berry Blend (golden raisins, blueberries, cherries)
-Salt and Vinegar Chips
-Cereal
-Granola Bars
These will be our breakfast for the next week and a half.
We finally get on the road late, and get stuck in some bullshit traffic jam caused by a pair of cars which appear to have no damage. Maybe the owners wanted to stop for a tea party? Finally, we hit the open road, and on our way out, we see the infamous sign that has distances to far away cities. Denver, 2200. And that is assuming we take a direct route along I-70 (which we aren't). Lord have mercy on our souls.
We drive for a while, and decided to take some back roads. Back roads are fun! That is, until you have been in the car for 4 plus hours, and realize that if you had taken the god damned interstate, then you'd have gotten there an hour ago. We stop for lunch at New Market Battleground. Maggie reads to us about its history in the car, and she is probably the most psyched of the three of us. I am intrigued. Audie is unreadable, yet excited. She's always excited though, so this means nothing. We see lots of confederate flags plastered on the bumpers of the cars parked there. We go inside, and find out admission to the museum is 8 dollars. We decline, buy some postcards, and then head outside.
One would expect that the park (ie the battlefield itself, and the area around) would be free... But no. We find a sign that says "Tickets required beyond this point) fixed to the fence that surrounds the field. In the end, we take the long way around, figuring that if we don't cross the fence we aren't violating anything. Then, we decide to play dumb, and explore the area without ticket. We don't get caught, which is a slight disappointment for me. I sort of wanted a car chase.
Next, we drive to Luray Caverns. To get there, we drive over the Shenandoah Mountains. When we arrive, we find an hour tour costs 18. I feel like the gods are mocking us, because we were too cheap to pay before. We almost leave, but then change our minds, and fork over the cash. Twenty minutes later, as we ascend into the cave with a group of noisy tourists, I wonder if it was worth the money and time.
The tour is amazing. The stalactites and stalagmites are amazing. They are EVERYWHERE. The cave is well lit, and there is a paved path with hand rails. Everything is dully accesible. The best part is the reflecting pool, with a surface so smooth it reflects the ceiling above it perfectly. There is also a stalactite organ, made by some guy who clearly had no life, but did have an imagination. Our tour guide is an old man who has worked there since he was fourteen. All through the tour, a group of Indian tourists pretending they do not understand English touch EVERY single rock formation they can get their hands on. When we reach one formation that is particularly shiny, every single person in our tour front of us rubs it with their hands. Like it was some bronze statue on a college campus. I want to die right there, but don't. We emerge from the tour, stroll the the complimentary Carriage and Car museum, and then hop on the road again.
After a bit of driving, we reach the skyline drive. It costs us 15 dollars to get in. I inwardly shake my fist at the heavens, until we reach the first look out. The view is spectacular, if a bit smoggy. I'm sure one of the best feelings in the world is standing on top of a mountain, and looking out for miles and miles on the world below. We drive and drive, until we find a campsite. We pay the little brown box, set up our tent, and then leave for a quest for dinner.
At this point, Maggie is not talking. Something has happened, but neither Audie nor I know what. We ignore it, and hope that food will solve it. I compensate by talking, which never works. Food does not chase away the mood, maybe because we are fed barbecue sandwiches from a gas station full of people with strong southern accents who tell us repeatedly we will be eaten by bears in our tent. Audie and I watched the sun set, and Maggie sulks in the car. Right before it disappears, I am afraid to blink. I think I might miss it, and so I keep my eyes open until they water. The sun set is nothing spectacular, but it still gives me the chills. We return to the campground, and Maggie disappears to talk on the phone. There is no reception, and the horrible person inside me laughs at her difficulties. Finally, she comes back into the tent, and suddenly everything is okay. This is how it will always go. Things are awkward one second, and fine the next. I'm already beginning to get used to it.
Okay. So. One day took this much room, i am thinking that I should probably cut back on the rambling. Then again, who says you have to read it? Ah well. Done for today. Pictures to come eventually, maybe. Though they will just go on Facebook.
I guess no one really reads my journal anymore, probably because I don't really write in it. I don't really mind though. I just need to get some stuff down once in a while, and sometimes publicly is the way to go with this. Sometimes.
I just spent two weeks driving across (half) the country. It was an enlightening experience, if only because I rediscovered my love for national parks (and any sort of natural beauty), and had way too much time in the car to stare out the window and think about things.
In case you care, here's our story (I'm thinking I'll break it up into seperate entries. Too much to say to fit it into one):
The cast:
Me (duh)- overly introspective and totally lost student who just finished freshmen year of college, but is probably going to start school all over next year on the other side of the ocean (despite her doubts that are multiplying like rabbits on espresso)
Maggie - One of the two people I spent the year in a Trouble with. From California. Finds the whole east coast to be not at all like the west, and thus dismisses it frequently and mercilessly in front of its natives. Incredibly moody. Likes to go for long periods without talking. Still, somehow can be quite a fun person to hang out with. I think most of her mood was just from the "poor" weather on the east coast, and not seeing her dog Zoe. Transferring to UC Merced next year. Two hours from home, and a new smaller school.
Audie- Lived on my hall. Owner of car which was to be driven back to Colorado, her home state. Has the best, most contagious laugh of anyone I have ever met, and uses it frequently. Incredibly patient, but also not confrontational. This means you can never really tell what she thinks of much of anything (including you and your behavior). Transferring to Michigan next year. Goucher is too small, so go BIG.
*** NOTE: We are all transferring next year, and live pretty much as far from each other as possible. Thus, we don't know when (or if) we will see each other again.
Day 1: We leave early-ish, take one last loop around Goucher. Maggie doesn't seemed at all moved, but Audie does. I am of course moved, despite the fact that I will probably see it again very soon, because symbolic things like this always get to me. Afterwards, we go to Trader Joe's and use Maggie's gift card to buy supplies:
-Dried Berry Medly (blueberries, strawberries, cherries)
-Golden Berry Blend (golden raisins, blueberries, cherries)
-Salt and Vinegar Chips
-Cereal
-Granola Bars
These will be our breakfast for the next week and a half.
We finally get on the road late, and get stuck in some bullshit traffic jam caused by a pair of cars which appear to have no damage. Maybe the owners wanted to stop for a tea party? Finally, we hit the open road, and on our way out, we see the infamous sign that has distances to far away cities. Denver, 2200. And that is assuming we take a direct route along I-70 (which we aren't). Lord have mercy on our souls.
We drive for a while, and decided to take some back roads. Back roads are fun! That is, until you have been in the car for 4 plus hours, and realize that if you had taken the god damned interstate, then you'd have gotten there an hour ago. We stop for lunch at New Market Battleground. Maggie reads to us about its history in the car, and she is probably the most psyched of the three of us. I am intrigued. Audie is unreadable, yet excited. She's always excited though, so this means nothing. We see lots of confederate flags plastered on the bumpers of the cars parked there. We go inside, and find out admission to the museum is 8 dollars. We decline, buy some postcards, and then head outside.
One would expect that the park (ie the battlefield itself, and the area around) would be free... But no. We find a sign that says "Tickets required beyond this point) fixed to the fence that surrounds the field. In the end, we take the long way around, figuring that if we don't cross the fence we aren't violating anything. Then, we decide to play dumb, and explore the area without ticket. We don't get caught, which is a slight disappointment for me. I sort of wanted a car chase.
Next, we drive to Luray Caverns. To get there, we drive over the Shenandoah Mountains. When we arrive, we find an hour tour costs 18. I feel like the gods are mocking us, because we were too cheap to pay before. We almost leave, but then change our minds, and fork over the cash. Twenty minutes later, as we ascend into the cave with a group of noisy tourists, I wonder if it was worth the money and time.
The tour is amazing. The stalactites and stalagmites are amazing. They are EVERYWHERE. The cave is well lit, and there is a paved path with hand rails. Everything is dully accesible. The best part is the reflecting pool, with a surface so smooth it reflects the ceiling above it perfectly. There is also a stalactite organ, made by some guy who clearly had no life, but did have an imagination. Our tour guide is an old man who has worked there since he was fourteen. All through the tour, a group of Indian tourists pretending they do not understand English touch EVERY single rock formation they can get their hands on. When we reach one formation that is particularly shiny, every single person in our tour front of us rubs it with their hands. Like it was some bronze statue on a college campus. I want to die right there, but don't. We emerge from the tour, stroll the the complimentary Carriage and Car museum, and then hop on the road again.
After a bit of driving, we reach the skyline drive. It costs us 15 dollars to get in. I inwardly shake my fist at the heavens, until we reach the first look out. The view is spectacular, if a bit smoggy. I'm sure one of the best feelings in the world is standing on top of a mountain, and looking out for miles and miles on the world below. We drive and drive, until we find a campsite. We pay the little brown box, set up our tent, and then leave for a quest for dinner.
At this point, Maggie is not talking. Something has happened, but neither Audie nor I know what. We ignore it, and hope that food will solve it. I compensate by talking, which never works. Food does not chase away the mood, maybe because we are fed barbecue sandwiches from a gas station full of people with strong southern accents who tell us repeatedly we will be eaten by bears in our tent. Audie and I watched the sun set, and Maggie sulks in the car. Right before it disappears, I am afraid to blink. I think I might miss it, and so I keep my eyes open until they water. The sun set is nothing spectacular, but it still gives me the chills. We return to the campground, and Maggie disappears to talk on the phone. There is no reception, and the horrible person inside me laughs at her difficulties. Finally, she comes back into the tent, and suddenly everything is okay. This is how it will always go. Things are awkward one second, and fine the next. I'm already beginning to get used to it.
Okay. So. One day took this much room, i am thinking that I should probably cut back on the rambling. Then again, who says you have to read it? Ah well. Done for today. Pictures to come eventually, maybe. Though they will just go on Facebook.