Skip to main content

The Mother Road

 Kansas City Industrial

One thing I was thinking about today at work was my old photos from our road trip in 2006 and wanting to see them again. We are getting personal computers pretty soon, and I was thinking about if I want to put my photos on it for background, screensaver or what, and I remembered driving by this abandoned industrial district in Kansas City.

 Route 66 2

This trip was so incredible to me. I don't think another trip will top this one. I mean that. Germany, France. Okay, maybe going to that park where La Belle et la Bete was filmed. That's the only thing that would top these experiences.

We ate at so many diners. We walked along abandoned portions of Route 66 and examined abandoned buildings. The whole reason for this trip was because my husband's band was playing in a music festival in Beardstown, Illinois. Every single detail, every moment, every hotel, every diner, every sight-seeing, most of which were not museums or anything tourist-geared, was everything I had dreamed of in experiencing Route 66.

Another thing I was thinking about today was that I used to be so much better at editing my photography. I need to re-learn that. I need to learn to take better photos, and I need to become a better editor.

I have been thinking about how maybe we're expected to be happy, yet we grow through our sadness and loss. You can't develop through a series of happy experiences. So I want to embrace the pain that comes from daily disappointment or loss. I want to understand it and grow.

And at the same time I feel isolated by that need. I don't think other people understand the unusual amount of seriousness or melancholy within me. I feel embarrassed, and often I put up a false cheerful front, but I want to be real about what I am feeling and experiencing.

I don't know that the purpose of life is to continually grow and develop toward enlightenment. To have ambition to that end is not restful. However I do want to fully experience the hurt and sorrow of each day. I want to face the pain with self-honesty and open eyes. I don't know that this will always be me, but it is me for now.

And I do feel isolated by that. I do not totally understand my place in the world or where I fit in. I continually protrude like a pointy, bony elbow. You could even say like my own pointy, bony elbow. Ha. I'm sharp, startling, silent. There. Not fitting in with the wheels and cogs of the machine.

But I am more than that. I am a witness. I am watching and listening. I am recording. I don't miss anything. I misinterpret, but I reinterpret till I get it right. It doesn't matter where I am, because wherever I am, I will do this. I will watch and experience life.

I don't really care what happens with my career or whatever, because that's not exactly the pathway toward wisdom for me.

Popular posts from this blog

New place

This is the second lunch I've passed in this downtown Barnes and Noble. I like this place. If I worked here I would undoubtedly come here for lunch. It is going to be hard forfeiting the hour and fifteen lunches, but normal life is less stressful than this. I am not cut out for city living. I still had driving troubles today. These one way streets are so difficult. I don't understand parking, and I like finding locations that I "cain't miss" from the road. Everything is so densely packed. Everyone else seems to have walked somewhere, but I celebrate lunchtime as the time to get as far away from the work as possble with as much comfort as possible, and Subway, I'm sorry, is not comfortable. Last night I slept from 7 p.m. to 5 a.m. when I had to call in. I have slept so much lately, but I feel in such a muddle. My head is pounding. If I were home I don't think I could put myself together enough to do any of my things. I really long to do things, too. Writing...
more &

Gervaise

1789 Gervaise was the first one to enter Delphinia's bedchamber. Golden light spread through a crack in the white curtains, throwing a lacey pattern onto the silk-shrouded bed. Delphinia lay in the finest guest bedchamber in the castle. It had been converted from the room of the dowager Markgrafin upon her death. Though Gervaise's entrance was not quiet, there was no stirring in the midst of the great bed. Gently Gervaise laid down the tray of chocolate and great cinnamon rolls and approached the bed, pushing aside the curtain to view the prone figure there. Delphinia lay in a contorted state, her limbs drawn up against her protectively, looking like a frightened child, though she was in the depths of sleep. Her hair, dark-colored, the finer strands gilded and curling around her face and brow, was mangled, freed from its pins without a combing. She wore a loose white shift, no nightgown. Gervaise was not offended by disorder or carelessness, but Delphinia's disarray gave he...
more &