The Road

I just wrote three separate drafts of this first paragraph and erased them all, which is something I hate because my goal has been to use this blog merely as therapy and a thoughtful demonstration of my stream of consciousness. But by worrying about one stupid blog post, I’ve caused myself to feel nervous about writing anything in general and I’m psyching myself out for no reason. I need a stress ball or something. Or a treadmill with a burrito hanging by a string in front of it.

I’m going on a much-needed, 10 hour mental vacation today by driving an excessive distance back home. This is a supreme idea for the following reasons: a) I’m going to start twitching like a bird on a bug-zapper if I don’t back away from my computer for at least a couple hours, b) I always like proving to myself that I’m responsible enough to handle driving long periods of time alone, and c) Long drives can be amazing. I mean, they’re torturous and I almost always end up crying at least once while eating Taco Bell through my sobs. Taylor Swift is usually playing, too. It’s not pretty. However, being alone with your thoughts for that long, without the companionship of a screen or another human, is an enlightening, painful, nasty experience that leaves permanent scars in your psyche. And I think that is a good thing.

Since I’m going to be in my car for quite some time, I’ve come up with some ideas to pass the time.

  • Singing the entire Rent soundtrack almost three times and roleplaying a different main character for each run-through. (For example, when you’re Maureen, you sit quietly for the first act, then roll down the window and scream, “Joanne, which way to the stage?!”)
  • Listening to Louis CK standup on repeat and seeing how much of it I can recite from memory
  • Talking to myself? One-handed shadow puppets?I’m going to ask people for more suggestions and if anyone tells me to count license plates or something, I will cut them.

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