The dream is alive, but reality is dead

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairy tale.” 

Hans Christian Anderson 

I haven’t driven a car in three weeks. I’ve been eating bread. I’ve been running at least three five k’s a week for the past three weeks. I’ve been milking the same two pairs of jeans one pair of slacks and random shirts for about that same amount of time. I’ve eaten probably ten cans of herring. I’ve drank gallons of gas station coffee. I’ve brushed my teeth in WalMart bathrooms almost every morning (don’t worry, I find other places to brush when I’m not at a Walmart). I wake up next to my travelling companion who has pretty much been experiencing the same things – although he’s been driving for three weeks. We’ve spent 24 hours a day together, in close quarters, except for showers, for three weeks. 

Wait, I take that back, he did go out without me this morning, but that was only for a short while. And I did drive in the past two weeks, I pulled the truck and trailer forward about twenty feet at a trailer yard in Indiana. It’s important for me to express these things because the truth is import, and there are many times in the past I’d pepper my writings with a little bit of truth stretching to make it sound more interesting. I’m guilty, and I apologize. The guilt gets to me, and even though I’d love to string everyone along, the truth  is actually entertaining too. Self exploration is freaking amazing, three weeks of it, with one more week in the hopper. 

Think back to your last three weeks. Where did you go, what did you see? Who did you talk to, what did you eat? 

The problem I have with your potential answers is that you can probably say you’re happy with every single answer you give (except for those donuts you ate at your desk while stressing over budget and staffing). You’re happy, I’m happy, it just takes a different sort of life for me to be happy, the nomad in me is finally being fed, and it’s a hungry beast that wants more. 

In the past week I has seen both the world’s largest Bison statue in Jamestown ND and seen the largest living mammal on the North American continent outside of Edmonton, Alberta. I’ve seen the highest peak in the Canadian rockies in British Columbia and seen 4′ above sea level in Washington state. Throw in the largest figure of an Otter in Fergus Falls Minnesota and the largest snowman statue in Kenaston Saskatchewan and you’ve got pretty much a fairy tale. Perhaps it’s my yearning to know and see everything or it’s my lack of ambition to get back home, either way, it’s been a really interesting ride. 

In the grand scheme of things, today was bigger than any tall otter or bison, and certainly a hell of a lot easier to grasp than the sheer heights of the Canadian Rockies. This morning I ate continental breakfast at the Super 8 of Morris, Minnesota. People don’t really know Morris Minnesota unless you’re from there or chose to go to the U of M there, or know somebody who knows somebody from there. It’s the little town we all know of, some of us are from, but most of us forget about after leaving it. Sitting there in the lobby, eating my cereal, I had thoughts of a million ofher people in a million other hotels, all getting ready to do a million different things. Starting the morning out right with a hearty breakfast and ambition, a good night sleep, and no place really to be made me a very happy girl. 

Maybe too happy. 

My mind switched from happy go lucky tourist to masochist. Things were going too well, everything had been an absolute fairy tale for weeks, something had to give. It’s impossible for life to be so smooth and great, or at least there’s a part of me that thought so, and there was a part of me that wanted to sabotage that fairy tale. Just like a kid armed with crayons, I wanted to color all over the pages of my fairy tale to make it nasty and bad. Everything was just so damn, well, happy. Being able to laugh at not only myself, but feel comfortable in my skin, thats not right. Being able to eat bread without wanting to run immediately to the bathroom and throw up, that’s not right. Not waking up in the morning for a gas station run for breakfast beer, that’s not right either. Who had I become, what had the road made me? 

Sitting there, looking over a pool that wasn’t open for the day yet, I saw a pool of water – calm and clean – and that was exactly how my mind felt. Perhaps for the first time in my adult life I realized that it is okay for things to be going well, and it is okay for life to be like a fairy tale, and it’s not okay to try to ruin it by making shitty decisions. I had thoughts of bingeing on everything on the breakfast bar and going up to the room to get rid of it, but the passion to be happy prevailed. I did not. 

Escaping to my room, I looked back at my weeks of pictures and had to smile. Life as an RV transporters assistant is pretty amazing. Desk be damned, I’m marking another couple of states off of my to see list. I’m only lacking Iowa and Nebraska West of the Mississippi and the upper north east (I’m not counting Hawaii and Alaska).

Next stop, slightly outside Starbuck Minnesota to see a collection of outhouses painted up in fancy form. 

(check out the new widget on the desktop site, click to donate, I’m running low on coffee funds :-P) 


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