I'm tired of the random spurts of poetry I've been posting on here. It's time to get back to the original purpose of this blog, which is to write about how I got to where I am now. I've always wanted to write about my travels, or whatever, since last summer when I returned from Maine. That's what this is for:
I've never thought of myself as brave. I still don't. Before I tried moving to Maine, though, I was chatting online with someone I knew from high school. She and I talk maybe once a year and it's now been a good two or three years since we last saw each other. When I told her about my plans to move to the North East she told me she thought me and my twin sister have always been brave.
In high school I was painfully insecure that I always saw the "popular" kids as the brave ones. Even when I moved away to college and nearly every one else went only as far as an hour or two from where we grew up. Out of a class of thirty only four went out of state and three stayed out of state.
Maine was an adventure. I was really excited when I learned I got the job at Acadia Shop. I'd be moving to Bar Harbor and from there it'd be smooth sailing to get acquainted with the state, figure out where I wanted to live and learn what I wanted to do with my life. I just knew it had to be out there and with a degree in Literature the possibilities on the East coast were endless! Yeah, that was more than naïve. I'm not sure I've ever been so wrong about anything in my entire life.
I'm not exactly superstitious. I make wishes at 11:11, I knock on wood, but they're more things I do for assurance. I don't disregard magic entirely even though it isn't something I believe in anymore, but I still like to think that magic is what science can't explain (like why bumble bees can fly). Anyways, the entire road to Maine was covered in bad omens. I could say it even began when I started to pack. I had those vacuum seal bags and almost right away one ripped. That was just stupid. I used it anyway and jammed everything into my tiny car. The fact that it was hell to get everything inside is not a sign itself. Anyone who has packed up everything to move somewhere knows how difficult it is to make everything fit. But the drive to my mom's was almost going to be completely on the interstate. I had chosen to drive through South Dakota instead of Nebraska so I could stop in Wall on the way to see my Father figure and his wife (Ken and Karen). The visit was way too short, but it was good. It was strange to hear a father figure telling me he wished I wasn't going so far away, but he was glad I was doing my own thing. It was something that, until then, I wasn't used to. It made me not want to go, but I'm not one to want to be near family. It's easier to love my family from a distance. At the time Ken was like a dad, but not quite there yet. It's still surprising to me how close we came in our first four months of working at Wall Drug together, despite everything.
Even though it was difficult to say good-bye I got on the road. I was headed East, a direction that, after I left home, I'd hoped to never travel in again unless it was for visits (most of my family lives east of me). But there I was going against my most recent plans. This was what I had wanted to do before going to Chadron, NE for college. I had hooped to go to Maine to study. It was far away and in the region where most early American Literature was set. Although, after studying American Literature in college I'm no so impressed by what the writers spat out.
So, Chadron it was. That took me twelve hours from either parent, but still within driving distance so I'd get the car and it was easier on my wallet. Manette was going just three hours further than me in the opposite direction (to Edinboro, PA), so she'd have to fly.
I was living the original dream, going to Maine. I had few problems getting to my mom's in Strawberry Point, IA. I saw a lot of red wing black birds when I got to East River, SD. The birds themselves aren't a bad omen, just the fact that they're black and black traditionally is a bad sign was enough to put me on edge. Of course, I just told myself I was being silly and kept driving. I stopped in Mitchell, SD to eat at Culver's. I'd always heard a lot about them and wanted to give it a try. I didn't see anything special in it, to be honest. It was a burger and a shake. Big deal. But, it probably marked the first of many disappointments to come.
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