Looking Back

Hey old friend...it's been a while. I know I've been distant, but we have the kind of relationship where we can not talk for a while, and just pick up where we left off like nothing happened. I'd like to say I'll never neglect you for this long again, but I can't make that kind of promise. It's not you, it's me...and no, there isn't someone else. You're the only blog in my life, I swear.

So, at this time last year I was (checks the archives) leaving New York city. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the open road. Like smells and sounds, seasons bring on a flood of memories for me (yes, we have seasons in L.A. - Hot and Smoggy, Fire, Mudslide, and Earthquake), and as soon as Summer hit I got the travel-jones big time. I've gone through days where I realize I'll probably never again have the freedom that I had last Summer, and that's so thoroughly depressing. The trip gave birth to this new part of my brain, or soul, or whatever you want to call it, and that piece of me needs to be nourished with travel or it's going to die. I know that I'm so lucky to have had the chance to do what I did, and I appreciate that deeply, but like a heroin addict, one taste and I was hooked, and I can't shake the desire. I've planned mini-trips in my mind several times; I'll have four days off and think "I can make it to Denver and back, no prob." But then life comes up, and I'm lucky to make it to Denny's for a Denver omelet. The furthest I've gone since I got back has been San Diego, once, in my Prius, and it just wasn't the same. Poor me, I know, but I miss it. I really, really do.

I miss the lightning bugs in Pennsylvania. I miss the crazy Summer thunder and lightning storm I got caught in everywhere east of the Mississippi. I miss sitting in a Wal-Mart parking lot at sundown talking with wayward Winnebago retirees. I miss exploring and making myself do new things. I miss the satisfaction that comes from reading a map. I miss waking up every morning and deciding where I'm going to go next. I miss calling my friends and family every day with an exciting new story. I miss meeting people that have lived all their lives in the same country as I (or is it "me?) who couldn't be more different, yet are remarkably similar. I miss the excitement that comes with knowing there's no way today will be the same as yesterday. I miss listening to local radio and hearing the different issues that tick off different communities. I miss playing poker and the stories you hear after your eighth hour at the table in Deadwood, South Dakota. I miss the simplicity that comes with living out of a car. I miss not having to worry about rent and bills and whether or not this is the third day I'm wearing the same shirt. I miss it all.

And I've become that guy I predicted I'd become way back when I started this blog. The guy who'll work his great adventure into just about every conversation, whether it fits or not. I hear myself doing and I cringe, but I press on, regaling unsuspecting victims for hours with stories that start "I took this road trip last summer around the country..." The other day at work, and I swear this was unsolicited, I was talking to someone and somehow the sentence came out of her mouth that she'd LOVE to rent an RV and just travel around the country. Well, that was just the greatest setup line I could possibly be given - you DREAM that someone says in a conversation that their biggest fantasies is to do the one thing you're practically a certified expert in.

The trip still has the power to enthral people, but with time that power is waning. At this point it was a year ago, and if I bring it up, it lacks the same luster as when I was able to say "I just got back from..." And so now it's time for a new adventure, a new passion, a new endeavor on which to focus my energy.

I turn 30 in November. I'm scared and excited at the same time. I've been rather productive in my 20s, and I've taken the time to build a respectable resume in the profession of my choice. There were some shaky years, but on paper my radio background is solid; the very picture of a young up an comer (what a great porn title). But I have surprisingly little to show for it. While my friends are getting married and starting families and buying houses, I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I feel like I'm about to enter the next stage of my life, where I grow up and become a responsible member of society. And I'm ready to do that. I want to do that. But going off in a VW van doesn't fit in to that life, and that has me a little scared and a little sad. There's always going to be a part of me that wants to chuck everything and live by a river in Montana. Will I regret not doing that? Perhaps. But who's to say I won't somewhere down the line?

I know it's not a struggle unique to me, but these are the thoughts that have running through my head over the last few months. Will I ever again eat fresh lobster on newspaper as the sun sets over Bar Harbor, Maine? God I hope so.