The Road Revisited

Follow Me Around The United States!

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

PICTURE POTPOURRI!!!

The next group of pictures are a big group of shots I wasn't able to post when they were current for various reasons. Enjoy!


Storms over Binghamton, back in June. Posted by Picasa


Greg and I at the lake. This was Date #2. Posted by Picasa


... a dark and gentle kiss, from the mouth of blinding bliss... Posted by Picasa


Jen looking surly a few weeks ago at Red Hot and Blue. Posted by Picasa


Ladies, this is an extreme case of overcompensation... I took this in Pennsylvania the first day of my trip, but I'm just posting it now.Posted by Picasa


I took this picture on the very first day of my trip, at the Amish and Mennonite Gospel Express Ministry Gathering in New Holland, PA. I'm just posting it now because I had to scan it first. Posted by Picasa


The next two pictures are from Ohio. This is Lisa and Phil out in back of the Sandusky Mall. God, I miss them... Posted by Picasa


Hooray for neighbors! Galin and I in Earl's living room. Yes, his name is Galin, pronounced like Gallon Of Milk.  Posted by Picasa

Monday, November 28, 2005

I Live For Little Moments Like That

Everyone knows Thanksgiving is a perfect time to slow down and take stock of your life. I've been doing that a lot lately, for the past month or so. And it's funny how often I've appreciating the little moments of joy that come along, even more often than I did when I was on the road.

I think it happened like this: When I was on the road, I definitely stopped to smell the roses, sometimes even literally, but my mind was very preoccupied with getting to the next state, the next vista. I was in survival mode, and a lot of my time was spent wondering where I would sleep, making sure I had enough money, enough gas, enough food, that I didn't stink. It was honestly the most wonderful time of my life, but I still had to remind myself to be thankful at times.

But when I moved to Ohio, all of that changed. I was stationary for the first time in months, thanks to a brand new family who opened their doors and their hearts. I met and made some lasting friendships in record time, and it made me savor each tiny second of joy. Especially when I realized that it wouldn't last.

Ohio proved itself not to be the land of opportunity I'd expected within the first three weeks. The next two weeks, knowing I would be leaving soon, I spent enveloped in every last bit of Ohio I could drink in. I spent as much time as humanly possible with friends, with Earl, with Chris. I didn't write, I didn't brood, I didn't plan for the future much. I just tried to live in that moment, with people I wouldn't see for awhile, while I had the chance.

Now that I'm home, with family and a fabulous new group of friends, and a wonderful new man, I'm doing the same. And it's so deliciously bizarre how once you start honestly enjoying each tiny moment as it happens, how many more you notice.

My brother just joined the Marines. My level of Big Sister Protectiveness is at an all-time high. I know there's a possibility I could lose him, either physically or mentally. Aside from death, he could come back a hardened, stoic box of a person, so different from the goofball I live with now. So when he acts silly, I take the image and the laughter and file it away for a time when I may not have it at my fingertips. Last night he came storming into my room wearing a cowboy hat and starting doing The Running Man while singing The Village People. And I know when he gets on that bus for boot camp, that's what I'm going to be seeing on the empty ride back home.

I have a new friend who is quickly becoming a true friend. Jim, my boyfriend's best friend, is a sweet, kind person and I love spending time with him. The other day, he bought my boyfriend (Greg) and I both toothbrushes to keep at his house. That's a moment that will stay with me, and I'll pull it out and cuddle it when I'm back out on the road, in the desert in the dark.

I spent Thanksgiving in New York City, with my best friend from college and some other don't-have-anywhere-to-go's. My turkey came out perfect, but what was really perfect was after dinner, when five people who barely knew each other went around the coffee table and said what they were thankful for, and first on the list for each was the company. I thought my face would break from smiling.

I have a friend named Drew. We used to date, and when we broke up it was a bit ugly. But we've finally come to the point where we put it behind us and are even better friends for it. Today he heard about my checking account woes (identity theft....sigh) and picked me up for lunch. In the car was an envelope with cash in it. You would not believe how much. I cried for what wonderful friends I have.

My boyfriend is a whole other magnificent enigma in himself. Each day I spend with him makes me realize how karma works, and I must have done something really, really good to deserve him. Greg is fabulous. He washes my car, he fills my tank, he tucks me at night. He hugs my mom and washes my dog. Last night he wrapped his arms around me and whispered, "I want to be with you always." He has one fear - the road, revisited by me. But given the little moments we share every day, he shouldn't worry. Home for me is where he is, and the road always leads back home.

And if you read this, I want you to experiment: One day out of the week, take the time to notice and remember each small thing that happens that you like. And see if it doesn't just become a habit, and if each day after, you notice even more. Then tell me how it worked.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Jessica's Dumb Criminal Profiles, or, There's Nothing Like Good Ol' Indentity Theft To Remind You Not To Leave Shit Laying Around.

Hey, all ye faithful. Well, I picked a day to get the FOOL (F*ck Out Of Laurel). I'm setting back out for the road on December 20th, god-willing.

Now, I say god-willing because currently there's a hoodrat running all over DC with the entire contents of my checking account. She left me bone-dry. Don't worry, I have some cash and a credit card to live on, and it should only be a few weeks until I get the money back, because luckily this theif is so freakin' stupid that she used her real name and driver's license to cash the checks she stole from my purse, but if it takes longer to have my account reinstated, the 12/20 date may change. Let's hope not, shall we? I'd really like to be in New Mexico by Christmas morning.

I hope you are having a blessed and wonderful start to the holiday season!

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Not to sound like a quasi-trendy emo-indie freak calamity, but...

... it's been four hour with the new Deathcab For Cutie album, Plans, on repeat and the ghost of Ben Gibbard has wrenched my chest open and is now standing in front of me with my heart in his palm. He's got me, and I'll follow him anywhere. Is there anything he can't do?


Please buy this album, it's one of the best of the year.


Feeling very homesick for Ohio this morning. I haven't felt homesick for anyplace in a long time, and I forgot how hard it can be. I bet the trees are just gorgeous right now, the ones that line Columbus Avenue where all the old money houses are. Hopefully the wind off Lake Erie hasn't chilled things too much yet, because the last time I checked, no one had harvested the wild corn next to Panera Bread on Milan Road. If today is Thursday and it's 12:40, I'm guessing Alan's daughter is watching "Oobi" on the preschool channel and showed up wearing her navy sweater with the huge hood. Earl is at work at PetSmart, worrying about Danielle skipping school again, and Lisa is just about to get off her morning shift at the Veteran's Home. Sarah just woke up and is working on her myspace page. Kittykat is hiding under the house and Bacon is back at the petting zoo, curled up in a corner of the pen. Phil is probably at work at Ruby's, wishing he was off so he could take his son to Sheldon's Marsh to see the leaves before they're gone for the season. I'm wondering if he's still wearing Laura's little silver ring on his pinky finger. I'm wondering if it fell in the French Onion soup yet. Schavon is probably in the kitchen, yelling at Ramblin' Rachel to shut up about her boyfriend and help stock glasses. Jen Voegel's mom might bring in Baby Madison for everyone to coo over before the dinner rush. I'm guessing Jenny is hiding in the back, smoking a Monarch light and sitting on an empty Coors Light keg.

And I'm here in the office, trapped behind a desk with a quota to fill, Ben Gibbard singing about highways and Greyhound stations so close to my ear and it's everything I can do not to drive straight past the Chinese place on my lunch break, and just keep going, keep going til I see that sign for Rt. 250 off of I-80 and pull up in that town that I just left but never really left at all.

Thursday, November 10, 2005


The portion size of milk, however, totally can be.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


Dear God. Dear, dear God.

Is an egregious misrepresentation of cultural archetypes merely not enough? More importantly, why was this being published -- by the National Banana Trust -- and distributed as late as 1956?!


And why is the giant phallacy sitting on a Roman candle?

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

yes.

"It should not be denied... that being footloose has always exhilarated us. It is associated in our minds with escape from history and oppression and law and irksome obligations, with absolute freedom, and the road has always led west."

Wallace Stregner

Happiness Is....

... sitting on the blacktop of a mall parking lot with a guitar and three friends, singing in harmony in the middle of the night.


... seeing someone's face when you show up on their doorstep unexpected and say, "Put on your shoes, boy, we're going out!"


... taking the ribbon off a gift box under the excited gaze of your new best friend, opening it to find a complete outfit, from shirt to shoes to jewelry, not because it's Christmas but because, "you've been living in a car for the last four months and probably haven't bought anything nice for yourself, so I wanted to."


... getting in a fight with a friend when he's drunk, only to get a call the next day saying, "I'm a douchebag. Please come over and watch 'Anchorman' and let's be friends again?"


... overhearing people talk about you behind your back - and it's all good stuff.


... a text message from home saying, "Lots of people here miss you."


... blog comments that aren't spam.


... waiting anxiously for your new little brother to get off the bus.


... when the bartender knows what you want without you asking.


... six friends, three guitars, and one campfire.


... watching the Buckeyes win on local channels.


... Perkins Pancake House on a Saturday morning with your new family.


... convincing a waiter that you and your black friend are really brother and sister, then saying, "Come on, we gotta go. Mom's waiting."


... knowing your way around your new town.


... your pig snorting in his sleep.


... being the hottest girl on the dancefloor.... because it's a gay bar.


... meeting up with Earl and Lisa after work on a Saturday night.


... knowing I always have a home in Ohio.





I LOVE OHIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Monday, November 07, 2005

Mornings With Me and Mr. Mills

Earl rocked in his seat on the couch for the momentum to lean forward for his lighter. His spot was worn, contoured to his body as his legs hid under his blanket, the beige one seasoned with ashes, tears and ink stains. He sucked hard on his cigarette as we watched the eighth straight day of Hurricane Katrina footage. My feet wrapped in the blanket as well, I sipped my morning coffee and bummed one. Staring at the screen, he said, "I don’t want you to leave."
My eyes dropped. "I know."

I blew a pitiful smoke ring. "But if I don’t leave, how can I ever come back?"
He donned a sudden, wistful smile. "You might not."
"You’re crazy. I can’t stay away from you guys forever!"

He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He paused for a moment, turning away from the screen and looking at me over his shoulder. "Jess, you’re just a human hurricane. Hurricane Jessica. You blow into people’s lives, tear down their defenses, stir up their heads, and leave the shreds of their emotional debris in your wake. And then you’re gone."
"I resent that."
"Well.... I don’t. And I’m one of those people you did it to."


MY BFF!!!! Sarah looking too sexy for uh, MY SHIRT! (It's okay, it looked way better on you, anyway.... love and miss you!!) Posted by Picasa


Words cannot describe the awesomeness of this guy's hugs! This is Joe Koelsch (Kelch), one of my bestest friends in Ohio. He made me feel so at home wherever we were, even on the dancefloor old-skoolin' it to "I Wanna Get Freaky Wit You". He's amazing. This is us at Cheers. Posted by Picasa


Tommy, my favorite bartender. He works at Cheers, the chillest bar in Ohio. I wish everyone in the world could meet him, just to know what good people there are in Ohio.  Posted by Picasa


Lisa, Andrea and Chad at Cheers. Watch for Lisa and Andrea to start blowing up the amateur stand-up comedy circuit in the next few years! Posted by Picasa

Few Shades of Grey

"UNCLE JONATHAN’S CORN-COB PIPE!!!!" I ran into the kitchen and shouted in Sarah’s ear while she put in an order. I paused long enough to watch her fall to her knees with laughter and then ran out again, the other server’s whispers of, "Huh?" and "What? I don’t get it...." trailing behind me.

Minutes later, back in the kitchen, Sarah and I were quoting the movie "Anchorman" some more. "Sarah, I would like to extend to you an invitation to the pants party."
"The what?"
"The.. party.... with the pants? Party with pants?"
"Are you trying to tell me that there’s a party in your pants and that I’m invited?"
"That’s it!"

Absolutely no one - except Phil, the crazy cook - knew what we were talking about. He laughed behind the line, shouting, "That’s German for a whale’s vagina!"
I bent down to look at him through the heat counter. "Shut up, Phil, I’m going to punch you in the ovary! One straight shot, right to the baby-maker!"
"Yeah, Phil, you’re a smelly pirate hooker!" Sarah managed to choke out between laughter.
"Hey, ladies, if you want to throw down in fisticuffs, I’ve got Jack Johnson and Tom O’Leary right here!" He put two awkward fists up, one clutching a spatula.

It was official - I had a clique, a posse. It had only been three days and already I had a posse.

But this was no ordinary posse - it was my first. I had always been the loner, the tag-along, the girl that no one really took seriously. But for some reason, people in Ohio really dug me. To the point where I felt like the popular kid and everyone was trying to sit at my lunch table. It was new, and very, very cool. I genuinely adored most of the people I met and worked with at Ruby Tuesday, and other locals I met through them. In addition to Sarah (my BFF) and Phil, there was Joe K and Lisa. There was also Schavon, Gay Joe, Greg, Drew, Jenny, Terry, Rachel, Hope, Brandon, Andrea 1, Andrea 2, Chad, George and Tommy. Granted, Sarah, Phil, Joe K., Lisa and I were the tightest of the people I just listed, but I consider all of them my new friends.

I think the reason it was so easy to jump into friendships with all of them stemmed from the basic fact that it was Ohio, and people are so much quicker to be open and inviting. That and the fact that I just acted like a crazed monkey everytime I was at work. Seriously, I realized quickly that, to my co-workers, I was an enigma shrouded in mystery. Here I was, about 4 years older than most of them, freshly off the road, well-read, well-traveled and well-seasoned in the ways of the world outside Ohio. I had lived in New York, LA, and DC - and now here I was in Sandusky. It became apparent early on that I was different, so I just embraced it. I would run around the restaurant singing or doing "The Ministry of Silly Walks", impressions of every funny movie or TV show ever, anything I could do to make someone laugh. It was fabulous. I felt confident.

There were even times where it freaked me out a little - like the time two waitresses got in a little tiff over who was going to talk to me first. But overall, it was very sweet; the perfect pick-me-up after so many lonely nights on the road.

I think another reason I got along so well with everyone is because - for once! - I made a vow that I would not date anyone I worked with. Whatsoever. That’s not to say I didn’t flirt with people, but I made a point not to be That Girl That Started Working Here And Now Is Sleeping With So-And-So.

But, just as great power comes with great responsibility, great people come with other people who like to kick up a shitstorm whenever possible. I could feel eyes on me most of the time I was there, watching which guys I was talking to, about what and for how long. It was mostly the younger crowd, the little hostesses who were just out of high school, and also the queen set. For some reason, gay men love to gossip.

I suppose the reason I’ve been harping so much on the gossip factor the last two entries is because I was so frustrated that for once I tried to be Friendly Girl and not Date My Co-Workers Girl but it was as if it didn’t matter. Things actually got very ugly once Alan and I became better friends - during orientation, I learned that dating the managers was a no-no, but no one said anything about just hanging out. So when Alan and I started hanging out, going out for drinks, closing down the bars, chilling at his house and watching movies and stuff, things really got out of hand. Alan almost lost his job. It was terrible, and all because some gossipy queen had to open his big-ass mouth. By the time it happened, I had already realized that there was no money to be made in Ohio and had put in my two weeks (after two weeks of working), so it didn’t affect my job at all, but Alan has child support to pay for, and I thought the whole thing was very unfair.

Anyway, the point is, Ohio is very black and white. There are very few shades of grey when it comes to the lifestyle. There are some parts you adore, there are some parts you vehemently hate. I loved the good people, I hated the bad ones. I loved the camraderie and hated the drama. I loved the job, I hated that I made no money at the job. I loved my new family, but hated that I had to leave. And after making $17 on a Sunday double, I definitely had to leave.

"Why don’t you just get a real job?" Earl and Lisa asked me one afternoon. I had come home on my break to practice my new obsession, playing Damien Rice’s "Cannonball" on guitar.
"I doubt there’d be much more money in that," I said. "All the local offices are starting at $8 an hour. I haven’t made that since my freshman year of college."
"But this is Ohio, sweetie."
"But Ohio isn’t the only place I want to be."

It wasn’t for lack of trying. I interviewed at all sorts of retail stores, but they all wanted me to wait until Thanksgiving, for seasonal work. I couldn’t wait that long, not if I ever wanted to be back out on the road. I bit the bullet and decided to come back home to Maryland, not because I wanted to but because the economy is better. So here I am, at my parent’s kitchen table, working seven days a week and writing in between. Sorry I’ve been so distant. I haven’t meant to be at all. And now that I’m home and on a more regular schedule, hopefully I can write many more stories of the funny things that happened in Ohio and in the short time I’ve been home - the crazy nights, the stirring conversations, the catharsis. And there’s been plenty.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

If We're Talking About The Stones, I Like "Angie" Better Than "Ruby Tuesday".

The same afternoon I moved to Sandusky, I started looking for a job. Lisa handed over the remnants of the Sunday paper - "It’s the best for job listings!" - and I circled away. As I scanned the tiny ads, I looked around at my new home. There was Earl in his usual spot on the couch, smoking a cigarette, watching the Sci-Fi channel. His face was frozen in the usual mixture of paying attention and being a thousand miles away. I know that look; I get it myself. Lisa was in the kitchen, making dinner. Bacon busied himself at her feet, loudly rooting for crumbs. Kitty-Kat, the family kitten, lurked behind the furniture like a black dustball. Earl took to calling her Grandpa Addams because of the way she’d crawl around the half-remodeled house, sometimes entering a room through a hole in the floor or a wall, covered in cobwebs. Chris had the Sunday sports section, two days old and still holding his attention, spread out on the floor, his legs bent at the knees as his feet bobbed in the air. "Welcome home, Jess," Earl said quietly, noticing me looking around.
"Thanks," I whispered, turning the color of the Chris’ pink lemonade.

When I took the tour of the house, I was amazed at the bathroom - Earl had said many times that he was going to do it over and wow, he really did. It was twice the size of the old one, with a huge whirlpool bathtub. There was also a good-size shower stall - half-finished and filled with power tools. "This is coming along awesome!" I shouted to Earl, still on the couch. "Wow! This is really great!"

Then it really sunk in: There was no shower in this house. Thoughts ran through my head at an alarming pace. "Oh God! How do I wash my hair?! And what if I’m...uh.... falling to the Commies? That doesn’t really lend itself to bath-taking!" I panicked a little bit. I pulled Chris aside, motioning him over with a silent wave. "Dude," I mumbled through clenched teeth, "how do you wash your hair?"
"I JUST TURN THE WATER ON AND HOLD MY HEAD UNDER THERE BUT YOU’RE BIGGER THAN ME SO I DON’T THINK YOU CAN DO THAT!"
"Did you take your pill today?"
"Yes."
"Coulda fooled me, buddy," I teased, folding my arms around him in a bear hug. "We’re best friends, right?"
"Uh-huh."

Lisa finally helped me see the light - Big Gulp cups and tampons! - and after that it was easy to feel at home. I changed my shirt and went out on a massive job application foray. On the list: Cabana Jack’s, Ruby Tuesday, Mario DiNapoli’s, Margaritaville, and Cheers; all bar/restaurants in downtown Sandusky, all only minutes away from Earl and Lisa’s. Then came the absolute joy of filling them all out, trying to remember the dates of employment, lying like a dog on all of them about not working for the last four months, writing the same information five times over until my fingers cramped, drilling my new address into my head, and hoping the fact that I left a fabulous office job in Maryland wouldn’t render me over-qualified (or insane - which it did).

The next day, freshly not-showered-but-bathed, I turned them back in. The only one that took me in for an immediate interview was Ruby Tuesday. This might sound megalomaniacal, but I knew I had it before I even walked in. With seven years experience in New York City and Los Angeles, I could wait tables in Sandusky blindfolded.

Long story short, I started training the next day. Orientation was five hours computer training, paperwork, and reminders not to date the managers, not to mention eight wonderful training videos describing how to put myself on the road to success with Ruby Tuesday at the helm. To be fair, that was the only part that really depressed me - "Three days ago I was living a free and wonderful life actually on the road, and now I’m on the Ruby Tuesday Road to Success. How fabulous. I wonder if it’s possible to slit my wrist with a coaster?"

Two days after that, I was on the floor. (Don't be alarmed, it means I was actually waiting tables.) The managers and trainers all agreed I could bypass the standard five days of training, which was awesome. Granted, I busted my ass to learn the menu, to the point where my boss thought I cheated on the test. "You corrected the corporate test," he mused, going over my results with me. He was a young guy, super nice, caught in that awkward place between being friends with the staff and being a new manager. His eyes were green and his name was Alan. We got along very well.
"Yeah. I did."
"I think you cheated," he said, only half-kidding.
"Yeah right!" I laughed, pulling a stack of index cards from my apron. "Flash cards, bee-yatch!"
The look on his face was priceless. "Oh my god!"
I ate it up, giggling and knowing I was in like Flynt.

The staff at Ruby Tuesday was overall very cool. In fact, some were so nice they creeped me out a little, but others I could detect the stench of gossip surrounding them like Soylent Green, so I tried to stay away. Note that I say "tried". Just note that, because it’s impossible to escape the rumor mill in a small town. The Sandusky rumor mill, however, is more than a mere mill. It is a wood chipper, a meat grinder that will ingest anyone or any possible whisper of a shadow of a sentence and spit out a bloody, festering, back-stabbed carcass slathered with the stinking slime of utter falsehood with such vehement rage that I was literally appalled.

This is not to say that I did not make friends for life, though, because I did.

My first morning of training was a Thursday. I was chomping at the bit to make money - and friends. I was learning where the ice goes. She made a disparaging comment about Bush. Her name was Sarah. It was kismet.

36 hours and 27 inside jokes later, we were wearing BFF necklaces. They came in a set of three. We gave the other one to Alan. And the gears on the meat grinder started to churn.