What were we hoping for?

The Pioneers:

(key)

::blocparty

::me

If it can be broke then it can be fixed, if it can be fused then it can be split

hope with desperation. failure with success. good with bad. dichotomy is our lives. and there are two sides to everything.
It's all under control

it's how life is designed, and there is nothing we can do about it but to realize that it might be this way for a reason.
If it can be lost then it can be won, if it can be touched then it can be turned

everything can be had, yet nothing attained. everything changed, yet it will always be the same.
All you need is time

time will heal all. life is short, and yet we have all the time in the world.

We promised the world we'd tame it, what were we hoping for?

tasks such as these require a loss of expectations.

A sense of purpose and a sense of skill, a sense of function but a disregard

meaning is everything. significance is desire. but how can we?
We will not be the first, we won't

if we think we're alone in this two faced existence we're kidding ourselves. we aren't the first to forge this life.
You said you were going to conquer new frontiers,
Go stick your bloody head in the jaws of the beast

certain death lies in this pathway. evolution won't come without a price.

We promised the world, we'd tame it, what were we hoping for?

Breath in, breath out

it's possible. none of it's possible.

So here we are reinventing the wheel

nothing is new under the sun, son
I'm shaking hands with a hurricane

pleasantries with a disaster. certainly an inappropriate interaction
It's a colour that I can't describe,

It's a language I can't understand

this life is beyond what i know, what i understand. all modes of analysis are lost on this.
Ambition, tearing out the heart of you
Carving lines into you
Dripping down the sides of you
ambition is a bitch. it will beat you into submission and then grant you the world.
We will not be the last.

the world will be ours, and because of that, it will be everyones.

-Bloc Party

And it is good.

I just saw Synecdoche, New York. It's Charlie Kaufman's new movie. It was... It's the day after Christmas, and that's a relief more than I thought it would be. But Steph is playing and writing next to me which is more pleasant than I thought. It's warming up in here finally, my dashboard says its 48 degrees here in LA. Not that that's unbearably cold, but it's chilly, there's no denying. 

"The more we know someone, the more we disappoint them, and they us." And I guess if you don't want to disappoint anyone, you kind of have to lower your expectations of others so as to never be disappointed by them either. That doesn't leave much room for doing anything. Cause I guess once your expectations are low enough, your life begins to mirror what you expect from it. It is awful funny being in a city so big, and feeling alone. Alone because everyone is still at home for Christmas. Well, nearly everyone. It feels like everyone. I can't believe I've never been in love. And how ironic now that I'm not even sure it exists. Romantic love, not love of mankind or anything. That I can jump on board with for sure. 

Have you ever had the experience where you feel as if you are a part of the music your are playing or listening to. As if it moves through you and you move as a part of it. All of you moving in the direction of truth, beauty, good things. I guess it's been happening more and more, and I think it's beginning to save me. Why there is hope in music I couldn't even begin to explain. But, it is community. And it is good. And it is rectifying, and redeeming. It's a struggle, therefore makes you grow. Makes you see what it is that really matters. 

Everything can just get so contrived and convoluted sometimes that you loose yourself in something that was never meant to be so complex. 

quid pro quo

Life is such a funny thing. I am hopeful about life, and believe that you should be hopeful in life. But I definitely have a certain desperation in my attitude toward life. A hopeful desperation if you will. An idea that good is capable of being achieved, that love will eventually win out. But that none of this will be done with ease, with out a fight, a messy fight. Because there is a dichotomy at work. An un-actualized paradise we look toward with outstretched arm. And a realized brokenness in which we move in and out of as we wake, and as we lay down at night. It is the give and take, the quid pro quo, of creation. So though I am hopeful, I must fight to be hopeful, in the honest reality that all is not right; and all will not be right if not for the unification of people in the name of something good. So I find myself as two when thinking about what I will be doing in the future; where I will be, what I will be doing. One side, hopeful, seeing the ideal as a viable option. The other side seeing certain failure, and having the ability to accept that and move on. I don’t know if this a depressing, or fatalistic way of looking at the world, or just an honest one, but it’s just the way I see it for now. I’m grateful life is able to teach us and help us grow and evolve though. 

what? i was outside. it was cold. so i wrote

The cold

the rain.

They match my pain

my depression 

hitting with each rain drop

in attempts to prop

my heart open 

to truth and despair

the brotherhood of the fates

staring me down like a motherfucker

standing still

the chills not quite penetrating me

the burning timber of my soul

eats at the tobacco in my hands

cold cold cold

its winter

and I am seasonal

part__xvii_seventeen

Blog via explodingdog photos:

This is about where it started. I'd like to think at some point, everyone has a life crisis and begins wondering where they are going and what the hell they are doing. And after traveling the country and talking to people in dozens of different states, it looks as if I'm not the only one. Though I don't see this picture ceasing to represent my life anytime soon, I take comfort knowing that it doesn't just represent my life. I have companions in this debacle: life. Knowing that I am not alone in not knowing makes me feel stronger, more capable of victory one day. I think that is important. 

I have spent most of my life trying not to fail. Even if that meant failing on purpose, to ensure the fact that I wouldn't actually fail. If I didn't try and I failed, then I would know it was because I didn't try, thus making it impossible for me to actually fail. Or succeed. Fear of failure kept me from success my whole life. And now that I have been provided a wealth of experience and knowledge through my recent travel, I know that failure is nothing to be afraid of. That failure is the only road to success; without it there is no progress, no evolution, no achievement. This I have learned. Now all that scares me is success, and what I would do if and when I find it. But better that then the converse.

Success, however, is an allusive thing. Something that even when confident of it, seems like it might never be reached. That it might, at all times, lie just outside our ability to achieve. Something too far away, or something that will take too long to get to. Even though this feels like the case; that this thing, this success, is all the way over there...I know it is there, and even which general direction it is in. And, somehow, that is enough to satiate all that there is within me that thinks it must know where I am going in order to move forward. It's almost some sort of faith I have acquired. A faith that things will be okay, that if I continue to try things, to put myself out there, that opportunities will continue to present themselves. A faith, in that I haven't the slightest clue what my life will look like in three months; if I'll have a job or not, if I'll be in California, and if so, where in California will I be. Orange

 County? LA? But I'm not worried. Success (whatever that means) will come. It has to come. It must.

just jump:

After returning from my travels, I find myself in a position to choose. On the edge looking down, seeing what life could be. The life of possibility; of potential. From this point, you can also look backward, seeing how life has been, and how it could continue to be. The life of comfort; of dependability. Now, I expend a lot of energy trying to avoid situations that require me to make decisions. Because I've learned that if anything scares me, it's responsibility and commitment. Just terrifies me. So do I jump? Having tasted what could be. Do I jump? If it's true that the core of man's soul is in new experiences, then why would we not bend our lives to be one full of experience. And maybe it's that we can do that anywhere we are. Maybe it's not a decision such as jumping or not, but of whether we jump or stay put, how do we live? 

I realize that it is a luxury to have the problem of wondering what I should do with my life. The fact that not being sure of what I want to commit my life to is my greatest debacle in life, is a phenomenon that is only explainable by seeing how untouched my life is by real hardship, or pain thus far. I say this not to cheapen my life as it is, but to explain how fortunate I think I am to be in a position that allows me such ability to self explore. And there are times when I think it doesn't just allow me to explore myself, but demands it. So I am free, and I enjoy being so. It is a luxury I must take advantage of, or I will resent myself forever. It's funny that my current freedom of responsibility and commitment is actually a call to take responsibility and commit to something in and of itself. My freedom is challenging me to find what it is my life can be most effectively spent. Sometimes luxury is the greatest of impetus. 

_____________________________________________________

And remember: 

if you get tired, dancing helps.

part__xvi_sixteen

Well the trip is coming to an end. I'm in San Francisco right now writing from the most comfortable couch I've ever sat on. Scott and I are watching the Hills. It's amazing what you resort to when you haven't had TV in over a month. It is literally the best waste of time show I've ever seen or imagined. I can't stop watching it, and yet with every episode, I hate myself a little more.

Our trip is officially done on Wednesday. Just like that, six weeks of traveling the country, is over. I ran out of money about a week ago; needless to say, I've gone on a special diet. Luckily I have some cigarettes left. And I'm willing to go into debt to get a cup of coffee where I can. Just hoping everywhere I go, that someone will want to feed me. I feel like I have a better chance of finding an untouched freshly cooked meal sitting on the streets of San Francisco than I do of having the guys we're staying with here feed us. I'll be fine, and hungry, until we get back home and I get paid. Probably won't last very long, so I'm trying to see where I can make a few bucks when I get back. Maybe in LA.

It will be good to be back in Southern Cali though. I'll probably spend some time in Orange County, then hike up to LA and spend the rest of the time before Thanksgiving with good friends and my family. Leaving having to decide about what to do with my life until after Thanksgiving. Prolonging. That's what we'll do. Prolong.

part__xv_fifteen

Halloween '08

It is October 31st here in the Green RV. I have nothing orange to wear. So to offset my physical celebration of this glorious day, I'm saying thank to Satan for being born today 2000 years ago ever hour on the hour. 

Okay, that's not true, but seriously, today is Satan's birthday. I'm just saying, it tells me a lot about you if tonight you are doing any of the selective things people who love Satan do on this day:

I. Wearing either orange or black. And yes, suburban mothers, this even includes your cutie jack-o-lantern earrings, and your festive candy corn broaches. 

II. Eating candy. Look out especially for Smarties, Tootsie Pops, and any mini chocolate bar that upon eying, your mom would instantly ask for, i.e. mini Snickers, mini Almond Joy, mini 100 Grand , etc. saying "Oh, you don't like those right?"

III. Trick or Treating (this is a big one). In making up a pros and cons list for Trick or Treating, I discovered there are thousands of cons, and only one pro. 

Cons including: the myriads of razor blades thousands of people across the country place inside their Halloween candy. Poison should be addressed as well; a very likely scenario. Not to mention, that Trick or Treating is practically a front-door- delivered-all-you-can-offend buffet for sexual offenders everywhere. And if pillow cases aren't an innuendo, I don't know what is. 

Pro: walking is good exercise for our nation of increasingly obese children. (however, this is often offset by the amount of trash consumed this night)

III. clause A) It should be noted that any and all Fall Festivals, Harvest Parties, and/or Autumn Celebrations, taking place at churches all across the country, are a perfectly suitable substitute for the otherwise pagan ritual of Trick or Treating. 

IV. Halloween Parties. Now this is two fold, because it not only includes your usual debaucherous party activities, but the fact that costumes are often required creates a whole new segue for evil to participate. I can think of few more scenarios pleasing to the Prince of the World than a roomful of young men and women pretending to be someone else in hopes that they can forget how pathetic they themselves are. Girls, using the event to dress like a whore without the consequences of actually being one, including often a form of captivity, or financial crisis. I think this began when the female species realized that putting "dirty" in front of anything while choosing a costume is a winner. Men, taking the chance to come up with the most clever, politically sensitive, ironic, or socially relevant costume possible in order to woo said whores also attending the party. Ugh!

I hope my words have been convicting and sufficiently condescending, as my only hopes for you are that you being such a sinner, and celebrating such a horrid holiday that stands for everything liberal and socialist about our country. 

On Another Note:

I voted today, from a freaking RV on the road from Nebraska to Colorado. But seriously, you should vote too.

part__xiv_fourteen

Apropos

I thought it very apropos

To write about this word, which you simply must know

In hopes, that in time, on you, it will grow

So that from your mouth it might flow

Constantly, constantly, to friend or to foe

Giving and taking, like quid pro quo

Upon meeting you I might say "hello"

Then you'll know, it just goes to show

How one might best bestow what is truly apropos

Like how Robin Hood carries only a bow

How if your Italian, you can probably throw dough

Or if you like to read, you'd know both Emerson and Thoreau

Or if your born an eskimo, your m.o. is definitely snow

How if care for wine, you might try a Bordeaux

Or if you've only one ear, you might be Van Gogh

Or if no name, they might call you John Doe

Or if you liked Waiting for Guffman, you'd love Best in Show

Who really knows what Palin means by joe-six-pack though?

All I want to do is plant a seed that will someday sow

That we might live in a world free of woe

Free of confusion and free of just status quo

That we might know, from head to toe

What it is, that is so apropos

part__xiii_thirteen

Let me paint a picture for you right now. I am in the RV. Fully dressed, and laying in bed (which is a pull out couch). The other three are all sleeping in the back beds. It's 11:35am. I got up at 8:00am. I've, so far, spent an hour at Second Cup– oh, I didn't tell you? I'm in Montréal...Canada, that is–and an hour walking around taking pictures. And they are still sleeping. I cannot. So, naturally, I got out my computer to see if I could pick up anyones wi-fi. I can. And I am. Thank you "mary_net". 

Montréal. It thirty minutes north of the border. Literally, a three hour drive from Vermont, where we were Friday. And, yet, they speak a different language. They exchange different currency. And it seems overwhelmingly European. I mean, obviously, it's another country, but it's just kind of amazing nonetheless. We spent yesterday getting to know the city, and went dancing last night. Lots of fun was had. However, it's important I tell you of the beginnings of our journey to Canada. Starting before we crossed the border.

So in Vermont, our contact, who was possibly one of the sweetest women I've ever met, told us we simply must go to Montréal. When are we going to be three hours from such an amazing city again? was her reasoning. Judith didn't need to say another word. We were sold. After the event at Castleton, we left and headed for the border. 

Our phones signals began to fade as we inched closer to customs. Scott pulled off at a gas station, what I would learn after the fact, was a few minutes from the border. We went to the bathroom and got gas. Then Scott nonchalantly asks if I wanna drive. I say, sure, thinking he just is tired of driving, and I it just feels like my turn was up soon anyways. After we get back on the road. I ask how much further to the border. This is when Scott lets me know it's like two minutes away. What a cheeky slag. Now you have to understand what we're trying to do now. We are trying to get a 36-foot RV filled with not only our stuff, but all the materials and what not the company we work for has given us. After all, it is their RV. As we pull up to customs, I start getting real nervous knowing I'm going to be the one getting grilled. We hand the agent our passports and appropriate papers. And then the questions started. Why are you crossing? How are you all related? Do you have any alcohol on the RV? Any tobacco? Any firearms? Put a dollar value on your belongings?! And on and on they went. Each one of them, me answering with a little less confidence than the one before. Saying things like, "We're going on holiday," and "No we don't have any tobacco, unless my cigarettes count?" or "No we don't have any alcohol on the RV. Wait, yes we do. Like 7 beers, in our refridgerator, does that count?" After this barrage of questions he ushers us forward and tells us to park for round two. The search. 

At the next station, we are met by not one, not two, not even three, but four agents ready to search our vehicle. The asked us to step out and we did. Not a warm process. They asked us about our criminal records. Lets just say Canadian customs was a funny place for confession. They immediately ask us if our fridge is broken (which it most definitely is, hence the potent, potent oder). We tell them it is, and that we aren't growing anything intentionally. Next we have to go into the building, which was a nice break from the 29 degree night, and we had to sit and wait while they checked our backgrounds. Luckily to help pass the time I brought my harmonica in. All the while we sat wondering if this debacle of a plan was actually going to pan out.

It did, we crossed and I proceeded to follow any and every sign that had the word Montréal on it. And were ushered in to the city by Ludacris singing "Pimpin' all over the world". Immediately after arriving, however, we realized that we had spent about three minutes thinking this decision, and it may lead to disaster, or it may lead to glory. And glory it was. We made it, and after about an hour of driving around and some awkward "we're not from here" conversations, we found a parking place. We didn't pay the meter, and yet we haven't got a ticket. My theory is that they simply don't know what to do with this monstrosity of a vehicle.  And our weekend has been so good. I couldn't be happier about our decision to come to this foreign country. Thank you Montréal.

part__xii_twelve

BOSTON. MAINE. NEW HAMPSHIRE.

That's where I've been the last three days. And we're on our way to Vermont tonight. 

A quick recap of the last three days in bullet format:

• All girls school in Boston. 
• Ordering pizza to our RV
• Sketchy Asian food in Chinatown Boston
• A kid freestyle rapped about me on the street calling me, "the crack-head version of Where is Waldo."
• Had a laugh about that one.
• Got treated like kings and queens in Maine
• Ate a freaking huge lobster in none other than Maine itself
• Realized I am running out of money
• Got sad about that
• Didn't shower for days
• Drove us into Portsmouth, NH
• Walked around Portsmouth for point two seconds
• Slept in Wal-Mart parking lot (the closest I'll come to supporting them ever)
• Drank unprecedented amounts of coffee
• Drinking my fourth cup today right now
• Feeling extremely shaky now
• Saw the most neon colored trees I've ever seen in my life
• Got a shower today
• It was the greatest thing I've ever experienced in my entire life, ever
• Getting real tired now
• Gonna get something to eat and drive to Vermont real quick
• No big deal

part__xi_eleven

"Keep Austin Weird"

A sort of mantra you can hear chanted through every structure, every crack, and every nook in this city. The phrase seems as a living rhythm imbibed by every step the locals take. Austin seems like a bizarre hybrid of urbanization, and organic naturalism. The kind of city that has enough city for the urbanites, and enough unaltered land for the hippies (which are abundant). It's the kind of place you need to know about if you're ever thinking about aimlessly wandering the country. Austin is the place you pass through, either intentionally or not, and though you intend merely pass through, you stay for years starting businesses and families alike. I mean that all in the best way possible, as this kind of attitude has fostered a kind of creativity and community that you can just feel in this town. It's the kind of hippie, free-love, all inclusive community that you can hardly help but love every bit of. 

We rolled into Austin approximately 1,300 miles, three states, and 25 hours later from when we left Orange County Friday night. The drive was taxing and long, but having four people and a decently comfortable place to sleep helps tremendously. Saturday night we walked around downtown for a little looking for a drug store so we could get Heather some medicine for her worsening allergies that appropriately started the minute we left California. The streets were alive and bustling in that way only a city can do on a Saturday night. The clubs were screaming their incessant house beats, or in most cases, their incessant twang. After all, we are in Texas. After failing our mission to find an open drug store, we looked one up on my phone that was just a couple miles away. The Walgreens we arrived at is where we spent our first night in Austin. They were gracious enough to let us crash in six or seven of their parking spots along side the store. 

We were all so exhausted that nothing could've kept us from sleeping like Rip VanWinkle that night. Not even the four foot couch I spent the night on deterred me from getting a full nights sleep. However, it did deter my neck from feeling awesome in the morning. We used the Walgreens restroom to wash our faces and brush our teeth, and went on our way. The first order of business was to head to a Home Depot so we could finally fix the hole in our ceiling. Scott had attempted to fix it before we left with a piece of cardboard left over from an old wine box and some duct tape. Sadly, however, we were told to fix it properly with some plexiglass and caulk. We were looking forward to this project because even with all of our handiness combined, we seem to only have enough ability to match that of one hand. And the longer we worked on this project the more it became clear that this hand did not even have opposable thumbs. Two or so hours later we had successfully given our first run at fixing our roof. In the meantime, however, we met several strangers intrigued by our giant green RV. One, of whom, was a guy named David Ansel. He has lived in the city about ten years, and has had some fairly remarkable success here. Years ago, David started a small folk/grassroots company called The Soup Peddler. Where he literally peddles soup for a living, riding his bike around Austin delivering soup. This was a crazy instance mostly because we had heard of David even before we got to Austin as someone we would be privileged to meet while here. And, as the fates had it, he found us. Inadvertently, he became our pseudo-guide to the city, telling us places we can't miss, and some joints we just must check out before leaving. 

The number one thing on this list was a place called Barton Springs. Famous for its constant 65 degree temperature and haven for dissidents. This was marked by the dozens laying out enjoying the day. Whether the high school teacher sitting on top of the hill ogling, what are most likely, his students, or the topless woman spinning a hula-hoop around her neck, you instantly were aware of the kind of ethos this place promoted. It was a place that helped explain a lot of questions you may have had about Austin prior to just seeing it for yourself. It was the evidence every seemingly fictional place needs to legitimize it. The water was cold and unbelievably refreshing. We could only imagine what kind of luxury this place would be in the dead of summer, when the temperatures are consistently in the triple digits. 

Next we made our way back downtown and visited what was said to be "the best movie theater in the world" called the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema. Here we saw the new Bill Maher movie "Religulous" and I had a beer. Definitely an enjoyable experience. After that, being both tired and non-natives, we wandered the city for a while looking for somewhere to eat. Once we did we were too tired to do anything else and headed to Scott's friends place, where we were staying the night. 

This morning, we got a shower in, which was past due for all of us, and headed to meet up with David for breakfast and a hopeful interview to get his story, and maybe some insights into life and the battle fought for what you love. Breakfast at The Boudin Creek Cafe was delicious, as was the conversation with David. His story is definitely an unlikely one, and an encouragement to follow our passions and not quit until you're doing what you love. And now here I am at Starbucks, waiting for the friend, whose place I'm spending the night at, to get off work. It's been hours, and I most certainly have several ahead of me. The team has moved on toward Dallas and then to Nashville from there. I am left behind because tomorrow I fly to Denver for what could easily be described as the wedding of the century. Though I'm bummed to miss out on the next leg of the trip, I could not be more excited to help usher in what could be the biggest and most important decision of my best friend's life. 

My time with Austin is nearly over, and as the heavy folk lyrics of Conor Oberst echo in my headphones, I am assured that I will be nostalgic when I think of Austin. It certainly was nothing like I could've imagined it to be. I mean, I have fairly purposefully lived my entire life attempting to disassociate myself with anything or anyone that had anything to do with Texas. But after my experience here in Austin, I'm convinced that this is the only redeeming quality about what would otherwise be an entirely god-forsaken state. Austin has officially won me over, and convinced me that against my best judgement, Texas is not something America should've given up on hundreds of years ago. Well maybe it still is, but, without a doubt, Austin is a hell of a good time, full of people to glean wisdom from, people to watch in amazement and confusion, and full of an attitude that contains less judgement, and more acceptance as a standard for living. All together a place I would recommend to all. 

part__x_ten

Monday, we started our events for Roadtrip Nation. Our first event was at Cal State Fullerton. We drove our huge RV up onto the student quad and set up some easy-up tents, some tables, and commenced the day of spreading the good news about Roadtrip Nation. Tuesday we were at The University of San Diego. We did the same thing, simply trying to make students aware of the amazing opportunities that we provide for them. And tomorrow we will be at UC Irvine. There are so many colleges in California it seems, maybe cause the state is so damn big. The events are definitely tiring, being in the sun all day, on your feet, interacting with students all day. But it is so worth it. Luckily I am obsessed with people, and thoroughly enjoy having conversations with new people from different places. Some of these campus events include classroom presentations and film screenings, which are always an interesting experience. 

On Friday evening we will be embarking on the journey, officially hitting the road. Our first stop is Austin, which is just a meager 1,300 miles. The trip will take a couple days, no doubt, but should be a barrel of fun. 

Can't wait to start updating from state to state. 

part__ix_nine

WEST COAST PHENOMENON (a new series of interesting insights into West Coast culture)

Can we just talk about a West Coast phenomenon right now?

Since being out on the West Coast there has definitely been a bit of a learning curve as far as adjusting to the West Coast culture. It's almost unexplainable, and I've been trying to think of specific examples, but there is simply an underlying realm of the world that I simply know very little about because I didn't grow up on the West Coast. 

Todays topic of interest: FISH TACOS

Shortly after arriving in Orange County, I began noticing several Mexican food places (obviously) several of which specialize in fish tacos. Each time I passed these establishments, and read the words "fish taco" I got a weird feeling inside and was uneasy the rest of the day. Not even in my wildest of dreams and most imaginative of imaginations could I have placed a fish inside a taco. Nor would I have thought that a fish would ever desire to be inside a taco. Over and over, this affliction plagued me, until one fateful Thursday. Not just any ol' Thursday though, $1 Fish Taco Thursdays. It happened, we went to lunch at Taco Mesa and I had, count em, not one, not two, but three fish tacos. I just manned up and looked my fear in the eyes and put down those three fish tacos so hard. 

Lo and behold, they were not bad, in fact, they were good. Needless to say, I rest a lot easier living in the OC now. And every time I pass a fish taco joint, I don't feel so weird. I just look at myself and remember, that if a fish never wanted to be in a taco in the first place, then it never would have been assumed that they were not something I, too, wanted. 

part__viii_eight

I just drove a 36-foot RV from San Diego to Santa Ana. Got sunburned like a redneck, and spent last night sleeping on the floor. I'm tired and am going to bed. But before I do, I just have to ask you a question I've been thinking about a lot. 

How valid is the statement "You can never be too safe."?

Let me just help your thought process with a little scenario. So your going to bed, but before you do, you remember that your night light is plugged in. To reduce the risk that the fuse could blow and cause a huge electrical fire in your room, you unplug the nightlight in the name of safety. You fall asleep. But then in the middle of the night, uh oh, you gotta go to the bathroom. You get up to head toward your bathroom. But you can't see anything whatsoever! You stumble in the darkness toward the door, when you trip and crack your head open on your bedpost. To break your fall you put your arms out not realizing that your roller skates are on the ground and roll forward as your hands land on them causing you to slam your face in to the ground, but you forgot, you just bought some new kitchen knives and they are on your floor, so now your face is stabbed and sliced like a piece of meat! Writhing on the floor in agony, blood everywhere, you roll over on your dads shotgun that he accidentally left out and it goes off...shooting you and killing you. 

All I'm saying is, that is a case where safety definitely went to far. It went so far that safety actually turned into it's own worst enemy: death!

Exegete that please.

part__vii_seven

You know you're in California when you're sitting outside at Starbucks and can only smell cheeseburgers. But not just any cheeseburger. An In-N-Out cheeseburger. It is simultaneously disgusting and whimsical. In no way do you wish this was what you were smelling, and yet there is something about it that wins you over.  

First I need to talk to and make aware the fact that I am a certified genius. Not but a day and a half ago I made one of the most important discoveries of my entire life. It all started with me realizing the need to continue this blog while on the road. This obviously requires connection to the world wide web. While on the road I am not sure how often I will have internet access, let alone FREE internet access. Naturally I had the brilliant idea to ask Sprint what the possibilities of getting one of those USB wireless internet cards would be. And after a brief discussion I realized how ridiculous this option was. It is a minimum of $60 a month added to your bill. I slapped the Sprint employee and told her to get a life and left asap. I then started to explore the option of using my phone as a wireless modem. I, being a modern gentleman, have a phone capable of browsing the internet, and had heard rumors of being able to use it as a way to connect my computer to the internet. So with my intensive background in research and execution, I spent some time attempting to solve this debacle. And then it happened! I CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET ON MY COMPUTER VIA MY PHONE!!!!!

It was, without a doubt, one of my proudest moments. Seriously. 

On another note, at work we have been assigned our teams and our routes for which we are to be traveling the next month and a half. My team consists of Sarah, Heather, and Scott. All of whom, are pure and unbridled champions. Our route is the Northern Route. And this is what that route entails:

Needless to say, I am super excited to these parts of the country that I have never experienced before. I was also handed the keys to the RV that we will be driving. His name is Junior, and he's 36 feet long. I look forward to the many intimate moments I will have with and in this fine piece of transportation. No doubt it will be unlike anything I've ever known.

part__vi_six

I took a trip this weekend. From Santa Ana to Los Angeles. Having no car put me in somewhat of a predicament. Then I realized, "Why the hell fire and damnation don't I just take public transportation?" So then I did. 

A 47 mile trip took roughly four and a half hours, and a combination of only two buses, a train, and a bit of walking. 

Normally this trip, done in a car would take about an hour, and be quite a non-event, simply speeding along the highways. Nothing great to see, no one to interact with or watch along the way. Granted if you don't have time on your hands, public transportation is somewhat of a joke; but if you do, its brilliant. 

The first bus I got on was the 57 at the corner of Bristol and Sergerstrom. This bus ride took about 45 minutes. The bus cost $1.25, and I paid in quarters. As I began to look around, I realized that I am literally the only caucasian on the bus. An interesting anthropological fact indeed. Then just when I thought it couldn't get any better, sure enough, we took a turn on a little road called Memory Lane. Literally. Click the link. Now. I'm not lying. Seriously.

That bus took me to Anaheim where I walked toward the Anaheim Amtrak station. On the way was a Starbucks, so naturally, I stopped to get a little something. A young woman was behind the counter, and we struck up a conversation about something or other, and sure enough, one thing led to another, and yes...she did give me my coffee for free. And I know what you're thinking, and no, I did not ask for her hand in marriage. Anyways, I reached the station and realized that I had just missed a train, and had to wait an hour for the next one. Luckily there were some interesting characters to keep me company. 

There was nowhere to sit on the train so I just found a wall to lean against and observe the surroundings. An old man sitting and talking to anyone and everyone that accidentally makes the slightest bit of eye contact with him. The Asian teenager shamelessly popping and locking to his portable compact disc player. Or the painfully awkward college freshman attempting to strike up the most forced conversation ever...with me. Most forced conversation of my life, and no doubt, hers too.  But, honestly, that was the only thing making the conversation interesting, so I reveled in it. 

The train got me to downtown LA, Union Station. From there I hopped on a bus that took me practically to my brother's front door. It was a long ride, so I listened to Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? by Metric, and read some of Jack Kerouac's On the Road. And four and a half hours later I was eating some Pad Thai with my family.  

Mostly this trip made me wonder why on earth I've waited this long to do this kind of stuff. Really a mystery. But you know what they say: better late than never. There is something extremely liberating about traveling long distances on nothing but your feet and the reliability of some public transportation. I saved money, and helped the environment just to put the cherry on top of this delightful journey. I plan on traveling like this more often when I can. 

part__v_five

Excuse me? What?

You don't know?!

You haven't heard?! 

Oh my GOOOOOD!

It's BATTER BLASTER! 

It's all ORGANIC!!!!

Step 1: Heat up your skillet!

Step 2: Squirt your pancakes on said skillet!!

Step 3: COOK THEM!!!

Step 4: Eat those effing pancakes!!!!

Step 5: ABSOLUTELY NO CLEAN UP!!!!!

Commercial idea:

Kids wonder down in there pajamas rubbing their tired eyes. They've obviously just woken up, and are soooo hungry. They meander into the kitchen where mom is. 

cut to:

Mom in the kitchen, cute dress on, a red and white checkered apron on over that. She turns around and looks at her kids lovingly.

cut to:

Kids looking up at mom and saying, "Mom, we're hungry! Where's breakfast!!?"

cut to:

Mom getting a crazy and fun look in her eyes. "You want breakfast kids? I'll give it to you!" And from her hips pulls up to canisters of BATTER BLASTER! like six-shooters in an old cowboy western draw!

short cut to:

Kids getting so surprised, and slightly scared.

back to:

Mom pointing the BATTER BLASTERS at the kids and shooting a squirt out of each can toward the kids.

cut to:

The kids raising plates in the air and catching cooked pancakes on them. So excited they sit down and start devouring pancakes like fiends. 

back to:

Mom looking so happy and proud, blows the top of each canister and throws them over her shoulders like she doesn't even care!

Title screen "BATTER BLASTERS" smacks on the screen like it would smack your face if it could, and a MASSIVE explosion noise is heard.

on last cut to the three of them:

(yelling) AND YOU DON'T EVEN NEED TO CLEAN UP! as they throw their dirty plates and skillets out the window.  

THE END

part__iv_four

I'm realizing more and more with each day, how great this job is, and is going to be. Yesterday, some sponsors came in to talk to us about a campaign we'll be participating in. The sponsor was CPB, the Corporation for Public Broadcasting. They helped explain what Public Broadcasting is and why it's so essential to our society as a whole. 

Frankly I've never thought about why public radio, or public television is so important. There was a strange sensation listening to all of this be explained to me having grown up on a good amount of public broadcasting. Like a lot of children, who's parents didn't believe in cable, PBS was the staple of my childhood. Everyone remembers Arthur, Lamb Chops, Sesame Street, Bob Ross Paints, Bill Nye the Science Guy, Mr. Rogers, Wishbone, Magic Schoolbus, Reading Rainbow, and the Antique Roadshow. And at the end of all of those shows the tag-line, "This show is made possible by the Corporation of Public Broadcasting, and viewers like you." Now being an adult, I find there are still facets of my life where public broadcasting has played a massive role. Whether it's my obsession with This American Life, or the fact that I have a job now with a series made possible only by PBS. Either way it really made me realize that public broadcasting is so important for our country, to receive news, entertainment, music, etc. from a source that is not controlled by the agendas of a media corporation or commercial empire. It made me realize how pro-public broadcasting I am, or should be. 

On another note, today, we learn how to operate cameras. What is my life?

part__iii_three

I drove a 36-foot bright green RV today. I drove it on the freeway, which was terrifying. I cut one person off, turned to sharp causing a tree to protrude one of the windows ravaging a fellow roadie, and got mildly lost. All in all, it was a great day of training. 

After two days I have a better idea of what the hell I'm gonna be doing for the next couple months. We are going to be here in the offices training for the next two weeks. Then we have a week of events locally. Then finally we hit the road officially. October 4th is the estimated date of departure. We will take a week or two to make it to the East Coast. This trip will be completely up to us. We have a certain amount of people to interview. These people will be of our choice, and all the interviews will be set by us. Depending on which interviews we book, our route will look different. So it is all essentially up to us though. Then once we reach the East Coast and finish our interviews. We will take the next four weeks to make it back to the West Coast. All along the way we will have different events largely at college campuses. Each team will have a general route during this leg of the trip: north, central, or south. By the end of this week or beginning of next, we will have both our teams set, and our routes. 

With each day, the reality of what I am doing sets in more and more. This makes room for excitement to start taking the place of anxiety. I'm getting to know everyone slowly, and acquiring skills, like driving RV's, that I may never use again. It's amazing.

part__ii_two

It is the morning. It's the morning of my first day at work. I'm here at the Roadtrip offices for the first time.

The offices embody what I've always imagined the ethos of this organization to be. A very handmade, DIY look through and through. Probably because it all is handmade and DIY. Except when it comes to technology. I love seeing a Mac computer, that costs a couple thousand dollars, sitting on a handmade plywood desk, half painted, or not painted at all. Oh and did I mention green. Everything is nearly painful, yet somehow, comforting green. A shade that is abrasive enough to ensure that it has your attention, but not so abrasive that it offends. But hey every organization has to have a trademark right? 

Anyways, I've recieved the tour, and have sat in the drivers seat of one of the RVs. The rest of the roadies have yet to arrive yet. 17 minutes, and they should be here. I'm early because I'm living with Jason and Jimi. Both of them work for Roadtrip Nation, and Jason is in charge of everything I will be doing. So I rode in early with them, waiting partly in fear and partly in excitement. 

Today will be an extremely informative day on all fronts. I'm hoping to walk away with a clearer idea of what I'll be doing from day to day, as well as getting a feel for the kinds of people I will be hanging with.