Post-Game Recap

As you may have noticed if you read my posts regularly, I did not post Monday or Tuesday. Agh! I have been thinking for the past month that I may have to cut back on my posting come school time, but I thought it would be more of a choice than a necessity. Silly me. Well, I'm less than a week out and already feel like I have places to be and things to do, so on and so forth.

I really can't believe there are only 4 days left until classes start. I feel like this has been the longest summer in the world though so it's not that my break is ending too soon, but it has just gone on so long that it is a little unreal all that I have done and that it's coming to an end.

Recap on my summer of traveling:

Celebrated my 21^st birthday in Ohio with my dad.

Revamped my bedroom and livingroom.

Drove down to Texarkana, TX to live with me mum for a few months.

Visited Miami, FL.

Visited Ozark National Forest and the Cossatot.

Went to Dallas for a Rangers v. Tigers game.

Roadtripped through OK, KS, NB, SD, WY, CO, UT, AZ, NM, hitting up Badlands, Mt Rushmore, Devils Tower, Grand Teton, Yellowstone, Rocky Mountain, Zion, and Grand Canyon national parks.

Roadtripped through LA, MS, AL, GA, NC, TN, WV, stopping in Great Smoky Mountain National Park.

He who does not travel does not know the value of men. – Moorish proverb

Back From the West

I managed to write one post while I was traveling, and then never had an opportunity to load it! How rude, I know. I have lots and lots of photos to share, some poetry, and a few grand ideas . . all in the few days before I leave for my Long Beautiful Drive back to Ohio. Hopefully I can fit it all in, and hopefully I'll have access to more internet for that trip. So, here's my one post I wrote on the second day:

I couldn't help but take in the land around me yesterday. I drove 17hrs through Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, and finally, South Dakota. Today my brother and I will be seeing the Badlands, Devils Tower, Mount Rushmore and potentially Crazy Horse Monument.

As I type, slowly rolling hills that make the ever expanding South Dakota horizon creep past the window. The sun has risen behind us, giving the land a dusty haze to its golden strands. A million yellow signs dot the road, advertising the Petrified Garden (family owned and operated) and, of course, Robert reads each of them aloud with satirical enthusiasm.

This is a good morning. It is the only morning. I am very much in danger of falling in love with waking up to open air and nothing but the sun on the horizon. I think I'll let myself fall.

Oklahoma was beautiful. I was so thankful for the drive through the OK state because the whole first half smelled like corn: beautiful, stringy, pungent corn. I have always loved the smell of it in Ohio, but never quite to this full appreciation. I really do love Oklahoma. I found myself singing Tell Me Something Bad About Tulsa and thinking how I could be a farmer. I could be an Okie.

At first I was very sad to be in Kansas. The interstate we took until well past Topeka was extremely boring, but after turning down the country roads I was taken by the land again. Everything in Kansas was golden and ablaze. There are so few trees! The few large hills gave miles upon miles of horizon to my eyes. It was so hot that I dripped from anywhere my skin was touched, like my body had been tapped as a water source by anything that so much as gently grazed my leg. I would have written Kansas off. I'm so thankful it didn't let me.

As a Texas Longhorn, Nebraska is synonymous with Corn Husker . . . but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer amount of corn growing there, or as my brother said, “they've got that huskin' shit down.” It's unfortunate that by the time I may have noticed something other than the corn in Nebraska, it was dark and I was beginning to get loopy from exhaustion. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side, Nebraska.

South Dakota . . . ah, South Dakota is a post of its own.

Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not. — Ralph Waldo Emerson