April 17, 2003

what you wanted all along

Three days ago it was sunny and 70 degrees outside. Yesterday sharp gristles of ice fell from the sky amid nasty winds. Last night I played my last big band concert of my UMD academic career. Today it looks like the ice has turned to angry rain. Tomorrow is my last Spontaneous Combustion gig.

I’m leaving this school, this town, this state, this whole Midwest Representation in less than a month. The strange thing is I don’t really feel anything special. I don’t feel sad, scared, crazy, woozy, narcissistic, bland, benign, etc. People ask me if I’m excited and I just shrug, as though they’re asking me if I’m going grocery shopping.

It’ll hit me eventually, and it probably won’t be until I load up my car to haul my junk down to the Cities. It might not even hit me then, as that will still involve acting out the routine play I’ve done for the last four years. To realize that change is acomin’ I need some indication from the rest of the world, and so far things are conducting themselves the same way they have since I started college. Go to class, see some friends, write some papers, play some concerts, repeat until the days run out. Take a few months off, flip the hourglass and start again.

Maybe it will hit me at 5:00 in the morning in late May, as the Petersen household stirs from their slumber to see me off on the 24 hour drive to Hood River. It’ll be just like leaving on a road trip, just like all those summers of Phish, those springs of backpacking and those winters of snowboarding. This time I’ll be alone, armed with only a full tank of glass, sunglasses and 200 of my favorite CDs. And two windsurfers, a backpack, a snowboard, climbing gear, a computer, all my clothes and a 1945 Toastmaster.

Maybe it will hit me as I pull over the Bitterroot Range and drop down into the dusty Oregon Desert. Separated from the ‘sota by the barren wastes of the Dakotas and the granite armor of the Rockies.

Or maybe it will hit me when the weather stops being so damn moody. It’s really hard to concentrate with this girl pitching a fit all the time.

twenty-three years, ten months, and eighteen days on this planet and it’s only just now striking me how really scared of change i am. and big change is a comin’! nothing to do now but to smile, face the wind, keep eyes wide open, and hang on tight for the ride.
it hit me in the last two days.
it’s an interesting feeling to feel coursing through your veins.
it’s kind of addictive (i had forgotten how it felt – it’s been awhile).
it’s going to lead to something interesting.
nice to know a simple hobo can keep track of one other wandering soul through random writings.
don’t fight the urge to explore too soon. there’s got to be some of us out there ten years from now who still won’t have a mortgage, 2.5 kids, and some nice, white picket fences. without us, who will tell cranky-old-dude stories to the little kiddies and begin to encourage the next crop of folks with wanderlust in their butts…

Just remember, big brother and his “system” also have bigger more expensive toys.
Just don’t bang your head on the top of that white picket fence.
–My three bucks (New rate for useless advice)