Hag off the Road

After about six weeks of couch-sleeping, city-wandering, beauty-seeking, eye-opening, and soul-searching, I've come to the end of my road. Back to that pretty little valley in the center of the state: Ellensburg, WA. But this is not the end of the journey. The journey never ends. Your life is a roadtrip, and change is inevitable. That being said, one of the best ways to embrace the uncertainty is to take a trip yourself. Go.

You can approach the journey in two ways. If you keep your eyes fixed on the road and worry too much about your destination, you're gonna miss all the good stuff: city parks, quirky holes in the wall, etc. But there's another way to do it, without a set agenda. And in this freedom is infinite possibility. Pull off to the side for a while. Don't hold your pee for too long. Stretch your back out. Climb a tree. Eat something weird. Sniff a flower in someone's garden.

Here are some final statements and reflections on my trip. Things that I've learned and relearned in the past weeks. Perhaps I'm growing up; things that I used to think were cheese-ball are again sincere; the cliche is no longer boring but rather holds an inherent heaviness of human experience. Here's ten:

1. Befriend a Canadian.
   You won't be disappointed.

2. Don't be sorry. Be silly.
    It's more fun. In essence, don't worry about the little things. Forgive yourself. Laugh at yourself. Be a   fool. Crack a joke. Let it fail. Don't act so tough, asshole.

3. Talk to strangers.
   I know this is the opposite of what you've been told as a youngling. Get over it. Once you're past the 20 seconds of awkward, then you're golden. Boom. You've got a new friend. You can learn infinite new things. Eat where the locals eat, do what they do. When in Rome, right? Afraid to talk to strangers? Try step #4.
 
4. Face your fears.
    Do something you haven't done before, but mostly, something that makes your heart beat a little        faster. Risk that slap on the wrist, let go of your tightly-clenched fist, cease to exist in the the fear that usually persists. When you confront your fears, you confront yourself. This is your ticket to self-confidence, and increased happiness. If you're worrying about anything at all, you're not thinking about how awesome it is to be alive.

5. Be outside. Every day.
    Run, hike, walk, bike. You know the drill. E'rybody know dat. It makes you feel better, clears your mind. When was the last time you saw the sunrise? You want to remember who you are? Feel the Earth spin around, cognizant of the fact that we're on a giant, planetary spaceship of life, hurling through the unknown universe. That'll wake you up. Go outside.

6. Remember who you were as an 8 year old.
    Whoever you were before you were aware of the tangled and often cruel social web. Before you started worrying about who said what, who likes who, yada yada. You had more time for pure play and passion-seeking enjoyment. You didn't give two shits what other people were thinking about you. For example, at age 8, I was into rocks, ninja shit, Animorphs, Super Nintendo, and Star Wars. I'm trying to live with that same heart again, the same wonder for the world. Become childlike, and in doing so you become vulnerable to the possibilities of the universe.

7. Use your entire brain.
    The left brain is logical, calculated, structured. It helps you know when you should fill up your tank and how much you should tip the barista. But if you're all left brain, it means that you're creating a structured PLAN (Pessimistically Lame And Nervous). Plan loosely. Make a date with a friend. Don't run out of gas. Know what bus you need to catch. Make a reservation at a restaurant. Then, let your feet wander as your right brain takes over. Act impulsively. Follow an interesting street. Buy flowers, give them to a stranger. Live in the moment. Experience beauty fully. Take a nap in a park if you feel so compelled. If both sides of your brain are employed, you are operating as your full self.

8. Friends and Family are key.
   You want happiness? Here it is. All you have is your experience, and it's better to share it with others in a loving way. Friends come and go, yes. That's okay. People drift apart. Sometimes, they drift back together. Be a fierce friend to the ones that you're with. Be loyal. Don't talk shit. Encourage your friends. Lift them up. Your kindness will return to you.
    Family is special, because these are people that you did not choose to be friends with. Rather, you are bound by fate. These people will always be your family, and if you're there for them, they'll be there for you.

9. Breathe Deeply.
   This is the most simple trick for diffusing the bomb of chaos in your life. Find your quiet center. This one's powerful: inhale slowly and deeply, hold for ten seconds, and exhale slowly. Feel the stress leave your shoulders and jaw, then reevaluate the situation.

10. The Zero Point Energy Revolution is Upon Us.
    Haters gonna hate, but all will soon be apparent. The largest technological innovation in human history will soon be widespread across the planet, changing our relationship with the Earth, our relationships with each other, and our understanding of ourselves. These are Zero Point Energy machines, devices capable of extracting energy from the void of space, the source of all energy. If you want details, I can set you up.

Merry Crimbus everyone, and thanks for following Hag on the Road.

Peace,

Taylor

Salem Grey

The drive from San Francisco through the oaks and mountain to the Oregon countryside was rather beautiful. Mt. Shasta is magnetic, majestic. After a long day of driving (10:30 to 9:00 or so, with many stops), I reached Salem, OR.

I don't know much about Salem, but it's where my sister has been living for over half a year with her fiance, Patrick. I didn't get a chance to visit them on the way down, so I made Oregon's capital city my final destination of the road trip adventure. I believe that names are important and its strange that this city shares a moniker with the Salem of colonial Massachusetts, famous for witch hunting trails. The town, to me, had a darker feel than most--imagine that it's Halloween in the film Hocus Pocus...but all year long. Now, I don't mean this in a bad way. In fact, I thought Salem was pretty cool, especially the downtown shops and restaurants. Willamette University brings an East Coast feel into the town, a strange brew when mixed with the state employees, rural farming folks, and quirky townies. I also noticed that the people in Salem tend to have darker features, and darker, curlier hair. Just sayin'.  It's interesting.

Hanging out with my Sister and my future Big Brother in Law (big BIL) was a blast. We got to explore the downtown, watch some live music at Boon's Treasury, a Mcmenamin's spot, and hang out at a place called Brown's Town. But more importantly, we did our best to hibernate in their cozy apartment, and eat delicious meals from chef Patrick. (Ever had Egg Nog French Toast? Try it. Tis the season). Here's an arugula pizza:

All in all, a five star review.

Saint Francis

When I was a sophomore at PLU, I was able to spend a month in Italy, primarily Rome. On a weekend trip, I took a train to the mountain town of Assisi, which was one of my favorite Italian towns for various reasons. For example: It was blanketed in a thick fog, the people were friendly, old Italian women sipped cappuccinos in the caffes, the street were twisted, cobbled, and winding like those of Minas Tirith (Lord of the Rings reference), there was a huge protest for peace (this was four years ago when Israel was bombing the shit out of Gaza), and mainly, Assisi is the home of the Mystic wanderer and animal-lover, St. Francis. This is a man who made poverty cool again (think Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi, etc).

Around the time of the American Revolution, the Spanish took their reverence for the saintly man to a foggy little bay in the New World, establishing the mission of San Francisco de Asis. Since then, the city has seen waves of treasure seekers, banksters, hippies, fishermen, Asian immigrants, hella Italians, vagabonds, gay rights activists, rock'n'rollers, cultural pioneers, software developers, and Hagbos. What do you get when you have this cultural smoothie poured over a landscape of Full House-style architecture, European vehicles (and drivers), amazing city parks, constantly-changing weather, and behemoth bridges? Answer: San Francisco, CA.

After getting lost in the city for a second time, which included a zany drive through Chinatown (yes, it was as cartoonish as you're imagining), I arrived a my friend Claire's house. In the morning, when she went to work, I took off for another solo city-touring day. I found a sweet spot in the park, where I pressed the "Good Day Button," which was written on a tree in the hidden grotto that I came across while looking for mushrooms (yes, it was as cartoonish as you're imagining). And a good day it was.

Here's some stuff that I did: Wandered through steeply-trailed Buena Vista park to get a good look at the city. Walked up Haight Street. Took a bus downtown and checked out the people. Met with Claire and her friend Katie at a bar for trivia night, which turned out to be Bingo with crazy-enunciation Santa. ****** * **** in the ****. Went to a place called Mad Dog in the Fog. Got a futuristic cab ride home from SideCar, which was summoned with a smart phone, showed the profile of  the driver coming to get us, and gave Katie a $10 discount. Cha.....................Ching. Welcome to the future.

Here's a poem I wrote about the city:

Lady Grey, a rainy day
I watched the morning fade away
A lady rowed across the bay
and floated toward the milky way

Lady Fate, the Golden State
I hold onto the Golden Gate
I'm not surprised to find it late
as rain and roses rise on Haight

Lady Grey, a later date
and Lady patience has to wait
I'm drifting towards the Interstate
With people who can still relate

Vacancy at Mousecar Motel

I need to take a minute to mention a traveling companion that has been traveling with me for most of my journey. The trip would not have been the same without him, but he's still managed to miss every single photograph, blog post, or documentation of his existence at all. My traveling buddy is a mouse (deceased, 12/2/12). He's a little history:

My car is a 1994 Honda Accord. This was the year of Donkey Kong Country, Forest Gump, The Lion King. Your kids thought they were Jim Carey (not Drew Carey). Bob Saget was way too involved in your life. Our national sense of humor was more getting hit in the balls and less Gangnam Style. And "What is the Internet, exactly?" (At around 1:00 a guy steps in to help 'em out). It was a good year, to say the least, and this car is a great car.

I don't know who owned the car before my sister got it from a used car dealership when I was just a freshman in high school; It could have been a poet, a prince, pit orchestra musician, parrot-tamer, popsicle salesman, poop-scooper,  or perhaps a pedestrian-plowing pirate. Whoever it was rode for 100,000 miles in the ol' She-Wizard before the Hagbo clan could claim it as their own. And now, she's my beast of burden, as it were. But what's up with all the pee?

I'm asking the same question.

For some reason, this car has been home to generations of mice. I think they've tagged it like the Hobos of the Great Depression: "Food here,""Good Place to Sleep," "Policeman's house," "etc." But instead of scratches on a post, this is piss in my trunk. It's an olfactory signal, drawing in the likes of Fievel and his mouseparents, from Russia, across the United States, and into my Honda. Though I've managed to catch a few in traps, they always come back.

And so, even though my 94 Accord has the strength of Blind Melon, The Beastie Boys, and Rugrats, it cannot content with the powerful stench of mouse urine. The mice are not welcome anymore.

One mouse, who died today, has been with me on the road for almost a month. Every once in a while, he leaves tiny, foul tasting chocolates on my seat, what I assume he leaves as payment for his rent. He chews things up. He's simply a bad choice for a tenant.

Still, I'm kind of sad to see him go.