Freedom is Gold

The Superstition Mountains are best known for the Legend of the Lost Dutchman's gold. A miner came to town boasting of a big find, with a chunk of gold to lend credence to his words. He died before anyone could get the exact location of the hidden gold mine. People have searched for over a hundred years, some dying on their quest for the lost gold. There are tourist sites in Apache Junction that recount the legend and offer the actual history. You can visit Goldfield, a ghost town that used to be an active mine. The Superstition Mountain Museum, Lost Dutchman State Park, Peralta Trail, Weaver's Needle, Apache Trail, Canyon and Apache Lakes, and Tortilla Flats are some of the golden nuggets you can enjoy as you explore history and desert.
The Superstition Mountains tower about four thousand feet above the desert valley. I have hiked to the highest point, I have hiked them in rain, snow, and at night by flashlight. I have watched lizards, seen petroglyphs,  and marveled at the forests of cacti. Sat in the night watching traffic at night in Phoenix. So close to the city but remote.
This year I arrived lost in my heart, soul heavy with sorrow, searching for myself and a direction. I went with the wind, except the aspects of my life that were burdensome stayed with me despite hopping planes and changing names and lives. I kept coming back to the desert. I kept going back to the mountains. There is an ancient indian myth of a white lightening woman who came from the sky and toppled the enemies attacking the tribe from the mountain. A spirit of a woman protecting a peaceful farming tribe, her legend set in my heart. She was their freedom.
I watched sunsets. My thoughts and feelings were the loudest sounds I heard, overpowering the night calls of crickets and coyotes. I was not happy. I felt diminished, stressed, helpless. I did not feel valued by the person closest to me and when I expressed this it was to receive ridicule and rants. Like the desert scavengers, I was surviving. I felt a kinship with the bold coyotes and the ranging ravens. If they could survive I could too. My choices were not helping me heal but they seemed to help my significant other. He needed help to live- I could be strong enough to survive that, couldn't I?
Golden light setting the cholla on fire, the fierce warrior  becoming desert royalty wearing a crown of sunset with robes of peach, rose, and wine colored clouds. Each night the clouds silently danced in different colors and patterns. Would you miss the beauty in their graceful performance? Many evenings I watched their performance and it gave me heart even when my emotions were drowning me. The sunsets circle the sky rather than only occupying the western side. It is impossible to avoid exclamation at times, the beauty stretching to see if it can outdo prior exhibitions. The best antidepressant is a moment of gentle beauty.

At Fish Creek Canyon, I played in a waterfall that would be gone in a day, just a black mark trailing down hundreds of feet of mountain.  I felt the ice cold water and wondered about the choices I made.
Listening to the wind, I felt it move through the canyons. Life is a series of paths, sometimes we reach a point where we find our best, healthiest option is change.
Wind, rain and ice wear the mountains down gradually. I have camped on primitive land in the Superstitions in years past, the mountains quietly stand. They've let me lean on them before when my life was heavy with change.  They call me to climb and explore, or was it the Lightening woman calling me? Was it her nudging me to chase myself down trails, around cacti and through washes? Such an irresistible curiosity, renewing my energy and spirit. More trails, sunset vistas, my feet kept going forward. Swimming in ice cold Canyon Lake, I realized life was a path and the one I was on wasn't right for me. I could change. I could be free!
I could stop letting someone dictate my life. Each of us is responsible for ourselves. I was surrounded by beauty, and if I chose to stop letting a toxic person paint my world I could heal. I became myself on the morning I drove away, freshly reborn east of Phoenix.
To me, the Superstition Mountains are freedom. Many die lost in the Superstitions, some fruitlessly searching for gold even now. I found myself there, found the audacity to pursue my heart, to reach past anxiety to strive for my dreams. I call that gold. 

Climbing Waterfalls

On a crisp sunny desert day I found myself on a desert ride with friends. We wandered windy roads in a truck that seemed mountain goats designed. It clung to treacherous mountain roads and carried us onto the truly beaten wild roads that tame cars shudder to think about and mufflers clench.

View of Apache Lake and Mountains from Apache Trail

We eventually settled on the more sedate Apache Trail past Canyon Lake and through Fish Creek Canyon. Those who've driven that road know the irony of using sedate in it's description. Generously it is a lane and a half of winding dirt mountain roads with railings that seem to be made from pizza boxes. Rusting wrecks on the side of the mountain inspire caution as you navigate the washboard and washout areas. There is the ever present wonder if you will come around a corner to find someone coming the other way too fast. Somehow you make it through. It is worth it. The views are of vast distances where geology shows off it's capacity for artistic beauty. Mountains molded by water and wind, shaded by the minerals within them. We parked at the bottom, at Fish Creek Canyon. I love hiking there when the water level is low. I love seeing the slender waterfalls dropping hundreds of feet on days like this one. Three waterfalls over hundreds of feet in height brought recent rainfall from the tops of the mountains down to the plants waiting here.

Within moments of parking, my friend Elan and I found a waterfall we could hike up. We could go in any direction. We both were drawn like magnets to the shining, gurgling water. We danced over rocks and water, weaving back and forth like human needles making our way from the pooling short falls at the bottom up around to where we could stand within feet of water coming straight down the mountain over a hundred feet before working its way down to the stream it would join below.

Standing in the remote wilderness, crouched under a thorn tree within inches of ice cold mountain water I realized something. I am the kind of person who climbs waterfalls. There are people who do all sorts of things. It takes all kinds. I love climbing waterfalls. Getting behind them, beneath them, standing in them. The sound, the feel, the beauty. It can be dangerous. It can be foolish. What kind of nitwit seeks out wet, potentially slippery rock and says "climbing that is a great idea!" I am one of those nitwits. Now, I am not going to go up a break neck two hundred feet free climb up a waterfall. But I am going to boulder hop my way to the top or to hidden areas of twisty ones with terrain that practically begs me to climb it.  It is always worth it. I could have walked to the creek. I could have looked at the view down the canyon. Others did. Many did. I went to the first thing that caught my mind. The waterfall I could reach. The waterfall I could climb, in climbing I would see more of the waterfall and more of the vista. Two of us were drawn that way. Danny watched from the road until we went out of view, his face showed that he wanted to feel less exhausted- he wanted to see what was up there too.

Days of paperwork, beaurocracy declaring in it's way the necessity of paperwork in generating meaningless jobs of communication and miscommunication. Of people being numbers and categorized, shelved and stamped. Through each page and meeting it was hard to hear, hard to focus because part of me is still there watching the water fall and listening to the song of it playing on the rocks.

Days of being different fictions, concentrating on each separate experience then discarding it to create and complete the next. Another journey next week, eight more people to be. Danny faces his next surgery, his heart is strong but they have to get the electric working right. It is frustrating to find out your house is beautiful but the electric needs work to work right. It's more complicated than just changing a circuit. It is flesh and blood, cells and genes that the electrophysiologist has to use to work on the electrical system within us. Hopefully after this surgery everything will heal right. Hopefully in a month we will go back and climb to that spot together.



We all face different challenges. The funny thing is that we externalize them. The barriers to our happiness we identify are outside of us. The reality is inside of us. The monsters in our own heads, assumptions and inaccuracies that our own personalities and beliefs arise from. The worst are ones that other people feed without knowing about. It is daunting to sit down and say to a friend that their words or feedback they've given to other ears that made it back around to you hit a sore spot. It is easier to slip away to the sound of birds and water, where the monsters have no footing and no one's actions or words to use against you. Eventually you can let it go or you face the tedious monsters in your head again, fighting each other with logic accepting it's painful assessments or disproving them. When life is going your way, it is easy to stay up. When challenges come up or you feel down it is easier for the monsters to take center stage. It is hard to smile past their non-stop unfiltered assessment of you; it can be hard to even hear or see what those around you are really saying or doing and they never see or hear the enemies they don't even know you're fighting.

I've learned to use meditation, to take time to myself to refocus. To reach out to friends who've made it past the walls and know the shape of the fiends. It is amazing how quickly one well placed quip or even the sound of a beloved friend's voice can turn the tide. These monsters, they aren't fought with violence. They are fought with patience, love and communication. I know as I tell you this that every day, in your head you face your own. I just want to you know, I understand. We are the most powerful weapons in the fight against these monsters. Giving each other time, respect, kindness, trust, a chance to communicate and destroy dangerous assumptions. Are you up for climbing waterfalls? Navigating past the tears and through the challenges of healing?

Brittlebrush Flowers Brighten the Winter Desert 

Candy, Cannabis and Clouds

Wait. Wait longer. Stay relaxed, keep your heart at ease. The desert draws us, yet we've got to wait. Snow on the ground, disc golfers crunch through the snow to play at Memorial Park in Arvada.
Practice Spanish on Duolingo, do mindfulness and gratitude exercises, catch up on tv series and consider free tourist attractions.

Last time we explored we decided on NCAR, National Center for Atmospheric Research as our first adventure. We held clouds, played with tornados. If better health or less snow was on the ground we would hike at the nature center on NCAR grounds. Lessons coated the walls there on weather conditions.

Today it was candy. We went to Hammond's Candy, largest handmade candy company in the United States. We arrived to schedule our tour amidst the sugar rushed excitement of a large group of children.  The tour and video was enjoyable. We watched a man work on a seventy pound batch of candy, rolling layers that were over two hundred and thirty degrees. We saw smiling workers individually molding chocolate bunnies and wrapping candy canes. We perused the candy store full of a myriad flavors, colors and candies. Pomegranate, clove, blood orange, mocha and chocolate filled candy canes next to hot chocolate, berry, and cinnamon swirled lollipops, marshmallow Mitchells, and old fashioned ribbon candy.

It was a delightful adventure, a grand distraction and a wonderful presentation on candy making. The only hard part was picking one candy cane to send Danny's son. How do you pick one candy cane? It's like eating one potato chip.

Along with the free Celestial Seasonings tour and the Leaning Tree Museum Tour, these are four excellent places to take the whole family. As an adult I found all four places worth a visit even without kids.

If you're thinking what about cannabis, after all, it's Colorado, you're in luck. Many dispensaries offer recreational cannabis. Edibles and flower, you can go, present your drivers license, look at and smell various varieties with their THC, THCA percentage ratings. You can buy prerolled blunts and joints. Many local newspapers offer coupons. Try more than one Dispensary. Many have small plants growing or show videos of their cannabis plants growing. Our favorite locations for prices and service: Green Grass in Central City, Sweet Leaf and the Green Solution in the Denver area. Strainwise offers membership and lower prices for members at their chains although they do run out of bud sometimes.
If you're from out of state and you're excited a few common sense tips:
Don't open your weed in your vehicle when you leave the store. Don't smoke in your vehicle. Smoke at home or in explicitly designated places- cannabis smoking and vaping (whether cannabis or tobacco) isn't allowed in most public places. Smoke in your hotel room. Be discreet. Don't put Budtenders in an awkward position by telling them you're buying it for your trip home out of state. Be responsible.

Edibles go down easy. They are often in candy forms. You will not feel the effects immediately. Do not keep taking more, wait at least half an hour to an hour to try a second candy until you know the strength you prefer. I take one to two candies for my migraines with complete relief. I look for high CBD content (CBD in cannabis is what you're looking for for pain relief) and CBD is legal in all states.

Edibles work great for migraines, body pain, but may not all out buzz you like smoking a Sativa. If you're an adult, I'd recommend stopping and trying a prerolled joint or an edible so you have an idea what cannabis really is and does. Do you know how many people are amazed at how gentle and pleasant the effects of smoking a legal joint are? Take the hype out of cannabis. 

The future is in your hands, and in Colorado possibly a fresh joint and a butterscotch lollipop too. 

Hurry up and wait!

Life seems to have a sense of irony and timing. It's terrible about communicating with us. It drops heavy twists when we least expect it and usually when we've got a set of expectations nudging us forward.

Hurry up and wait. Wait and heal. Choose how you interact with the world. Do you treat those who support you like troops you constantly grind down or do you surround them with the lightness and warmth they give you?
Who do you surround yourself with? Do you find yourself around superficial friends or by friends who honest and sincerely care? Do you recognize the difference?
If you find you've gotten into patterns of griping, who takes you there or encourages you to be in that headspace?
When you've got plans but health and life say you've got to be in one place why not use that time wisely?
Why not practice a new language? Why not find new places to explore? Why not make beautiful memories for cherished amazing friends? Why not appreciate the support and care?

Often when we need help we are discomforted asking. Yet, thinking about it: when a friend, a stranger, anyone asks us for help we appreciate being given the chance to do what we can.
We've earned love, nurtured supportive relationships, we give. We give love, respect, stories, entertainment, experience, ideas, and gifts with our friends who choose to give back to us in lessons, resources, love and memories.

The hardest part of waiting is using the time to follow through on lessons we've been offered rather than lose ourselves in distractions or mental pacing.

So hurry up and wait! Take some time to walk through your head and heart space. Tend your well-being. Take a moment to notice where your words show you to be, look at changing them for healthier paths. Walk a labyrinth, color a Mandala, meditate, tell a joke, look for a moment of beauty.

Outdoor living: Be Prepared!

If you love the outdoors, you know it can be a challenge when weather hits. Forecasts predict inches upon inches of snow or rain. Wind gusts happen. Summer camping has different considerations than winter camping, depending on what part of the country you are in however a few things never change.
Don't set camp under a leaning tree or dead A frame limb "widow maker" is a common nickname for these luring spots.
Washes are beautiful, often level in places but NEVER safe especially in the desert to set camp in. The storm that sets them rushing may hit in the mountains, sending unexpected water your way.
Never go without proper gear, this includes being ready for sudden wet or cold weather: last spring a storm hit while we climbed the flatirons in Arizona. The rock became slick, the wind cold and the snow was icy. Having warm, waterproof gear and flashlights- we could have gotten stuck until the rock was safe enough to traverse back down without risk of serious injury.
Speaking of that: there's no race, no reason to rush. You miss out on seeing and appreciating nature of you act like it's a secret speedway.
There's a time to be loud, it's when you're scaring off predators not disrupting wildlife. Quiet down out there, you wouldn't want nature coming in and having a house party in your living room!
Leave no trace, pick up your trash! Pick up trash you find and discard it where it belongs.

Weather considerations: high ground and tarps.
Tarps keep out the rain, the wind, and they offer privacy.
Where does water flow and drain? Be aware when you pick a place to camp. There's nothing worse than waking up feeling an inch of water flowing underneath the floor of your tent, seeping through to risk mold and mildew and health!
Pallets are a great way to get your tent up for drainage. Carpets and carpet padding make great insulation from the cold winter ground.
Get off the ground! Hammocks, cots, even mattresses whether air or full size will save you aches and pains and keep you from catching chill from the ground. Hammock users will want to use a sleeping pad to add insulation, while air mattress users will want to buffer by putting blankets or insulating layers between the floor and the mattress to keep them from cooling you down.
Tents can have lightweight blankets put up between fly and tent to trap extra warmth in.
Layer up! Soft merino wool, sheepskin, alpaca are all examples of ways to keep you toasty and warm despite the ice and snow outside your tent, yurt, tipi, hammock.
Portable propane heaters are great with proper ventilation.
Winter camping doesn't have to tax your health, if you prepare! Insulate your living space, never underestimate the value of a few hot hands packets and a good old fashioned hot water bottle in your bed!

Get outside sensibly, there is a special beauty to walking outside after a night of cold, wind and snow to look around and realize you had a cozy night and you're getting to see an amazing world.

I think about the winter I decorated Wax Hands at Castle Christmas. Taylor Grant made his booth a comfortable living space for us. Outside ice grew like blades of grass on tree branches and power lines. It was so cold outside, but in the shared living room: the beds were insulated with blankets, the walls as well, the heater was hot and we all had a great winter despite repeated ice storms. Oklahoma does win an award for the most extreme and unpredictable weather from ice storms to tornados they even outdo Texas.

Don't let weather be an excuse to avoid the outdoors, just prepare properly. Be ready and don't set yourself up for discomfort or unnecessary challenges. I think of a patron at an autumn renaissance festival coming in a tube dress with no coat, no socks, no shoes on a forty degree day. I stopped security to escort her to first aid when I saw her. Her skin was deep blue without cosmetics. It wasn't sexy. It was dangerous like going into the desert hiking without water dangerous. It was dangerous like "watch me pose for a selfie with this angry copperhead" dangerous. Avoidable.

Be considerate of wildlife. Have great adventures and safe travels everyone!

Exact Change Only!

Giant cities are like ant colonies full of constant movement and people trying to pretend they aren't in a crowd. I'm back in Chicago, gamely deciding to see what it's like to just use public transportation tonight through Wednesday.
In the city it always costs to park, time gets devoured waiting behind other idling vehicles. Would public transportation be a great alternative to the cost of parking, the time and traffic?
The machines all had lines. Signs demanded exact change, white and blue labels even noted all coins down through nickels were accepted. "No change given!" was the giant warning over out heads.
I thought I had it figured. $20 for a three day pass. Got it! Nope. Forgot the five dollar charge for the card. Lose five dollars and pay with a ten? Why, when I had a giant Ziploc full of change I brought for emergency tolls?! I proudly must have resembled Mr. Bean as I plunked nickels, dimes and quarters in. The machine started beeping. I was not done. The coins quit feeding in. I tried smaller coins. Dimes worked for a few more seconds. The machine went silent. It seemed like we'd raced but I wasn't sure what I won. No ticket came out. My twenty came back with a refund slip. My change was not returned. The CTA woman babbled at my confused incomprehension. She told me the machines weren't for coins. I messed it up.
They sent me to their headquarters, do not pass go, do not stop for coffee. Go get your three day pass. Take the blue train to the green one then the green one to cut the red wire. That's about what I caught too. Strange city, at least I was hustled off on this quest on a light rail. There were signs to helpfully tell me everything I didn't know and still didn't understand.
Still with help from a random friendly lady, I figured out which stop to use on the green line. I went to the CTA to ask where the headquarters was on the ground and she shook her head. "They closed at 4:30 pm." It's after six, going on seven. My receipt was from 5:15 pm. The workers at O Hare had to know they were wasting my time, sending me on a frustrating, stressful and fruitless quest.
She asked where I was headed, gave me a map and told me use my receipt as my pass tonight. Go to my meeting, then catch my other light rail.
She didn't tell me the red line folks would refuse to acknowledge my receipt. In fact, she emphasized if someone tried claiming otherwise to show them the date and time on the receipt and to mention it WAS valid. She didn't tell me what to say when the red line folks responded to this with apathy and by saying she was wrong without looking at the receipt. In fact they tried imitating a machine by just saying it's a receipt it's not a ticket. I was still told to go on an epic journey tomorrow to get my $3.95 refund. After paying $2.50 for the piece of paper my 50 cent ticket was printed on I've decided to just walk to my appointments tomorrow and skip the three day pass for another one way back to O'Hare.
So far, exact change because no refund will be given but don't use change although you can. Just because that trip says it takes seven minutes, it will always take longer. Of course, this likely makes sense to someone.

A Dear John Letter to Indianapolis

I got off my plane knowing I had a week packed with work. I knew I'd still find a way to experience Indianapolis and Indiana as, I just spent a day driving all the way around the edge of the state.

I was still excited. I thought of the many surprise places I'd stumbled into in other states. I realized after I got here, you aren't tourist friendly. In fact, locals are curious and guarded when they realize you aren't from around here even in the city. There's a "why would anyone come here?" Mentality. There are NO hotels near the New airport. No hotels have shuttles as the airport is a half an hour away. There is a bus that goes to downtown but you'd have to be local to know about the number 8 and where to get it.

Incidentally, I will admit Indianapolis, your bus drivers are the best. They made me laugh and feel comfortable on the hour plus bus rides on number two with Bob then the number eight to the airport. They didn't mumble and they couldn't understand why the bus insnt publicized and why there aren't hotels near the airport. Indianapolis, your bus drivers and public workers were willing hearts trying despite you to win over my affections for their city. They fought for you with kindness, while you ditched us to split the $54 taxi fare I had to pay to get to the part of the city that HAS hotels, which many may have guessed already- is closer to where the old airport was. Indianapolis, that was cold. A fifty four dollar fare that was higher than the day rate on my rental car I had to use the $1.75 all day bus fare to get back to because my flight got in after midnight, after the rental car places closed for the night.

You can't anticipate everything. In travel hurdles happen. You keep going forward. I had a schedule. I kept going. Receipts tucked away. Indianapolis 1 Angela 0. I headed east for work, thinking you'd be different when I came back.

I had a wonderful evening visiting my cousin Scott, we had great subs at a local place in Ohio. Ohio has hills, valleys. I love nature's curves and colors. Ohio's leaves were almost gone but the colors there seemed more determined to stand out and be seen. Indiana leaves shuffle to the ground, crumpled brown mistakes piling up awkwardly.

On my way back in state I was tired. The road was long, the stories complex, the detail demanding but only an hour and a half to my motel. Regency, the name brings to mind everything the motel was not. I didn't know that yet. A chime warned me before my maps spoke up letting me know there would be two thirty five minute and one hour and fifteen minute delays due to accidents. Major accidents. I watched drivers race around other vehicles like they were in video games, going over eighty. One of those vehicles was one that was almost entirely crushed from all sides in the median, when I passed it forty five minutes later. Professional race car drivers don't screw around on highways during rush hour. They drive on well maintained tracks, engineered for that purpose. It was sad watching mercyflight head off into the night. Impatience kills, it doesn't impress and it doesn't win you recognition or favor.

Over three hours later I made it to Terre Haute. I was surprised by the glaring fluorescent, whitewash broken down hotel. It's like running into a Chihuahua named Sasquach. As I parked, a guy jumped on his bike and slowly circled my car- not looking at me but trying to see what I had with me. He smirked brazenly when he saw I'd caught him. He rode over to a group of three other guys, all with closed mouth sagging looks of those whose front teeth have been sacrificed to hard drugs. All looking like I showed up shouting free food!
I went in the office, got my key, thinking I'd have to out everything in my room; not that I've got anything worth stealing.
Going from my car to my room a man stood at the top of the stairs after eleven at night glaring at me, staring at me. I smiled, stated back and said hello. He kept staring, expressionless. I perservered "Hello!" To this he finally realized I saw him staring and glaring. He didn't stop but said hi. He didn't move or stop.
I went into my room, went to lock the deadbolt and felt it flop in my hand like a dying fish.
I looked. No deadbolt. Just a little spring lick. Spring locks are not secure, you can card your way through them faster than using a key with a few minutes practice.

I gathered my things. They went back in the car. I went back to the office. None of the rooms had deadbolts. The clerk said I'd be safe. I told her she couldn't guarantee the behavior of other residents who all looked like they lived there full time. After hoop jumping and paperwork my reservation was cancelled. She was nice and if the place had reflected her, it would have been a palace. She recommended Days Inn.

Indiana, why so disparate? Human wolves looming to tear into unknowing travelers swirled in with considerate and truly beautiful people. Don't you have a sense of balance? Indiana, I felt like a tiny person and I know I'm carrying a few extra pounds but I look out of place here. Outside Indianapolis it was hard to find real non-chain restaurants with high quality food. Quit it with the deep fried diabetes and heart attack specials already! If you want to be taken seriously, you have to live yourself and take care of you.
I liked seeing signs for free spay and neuter. At least you're kind to animals.

Tucked in Indianapolis I found a couple of spots worth visiting. The Eiteljorg museum which has western art and a whole wing devoted to native history, displayed and curated by a member of the Miami tribe. Indianapolis has good restaurants that are a food revolution in action. A city with few highly rated restaurants has discovered the need and the joys of high quality options. I stood trying not to breathe the fumes coming from the sewer, admiring the golden gingko leaves. I felt as out of place as that ancient tree.
Tomorrow I leave again. I know I'll probably drive through going to other places, but our moment is over if we ever even had one. I won't think of you much, so please work on yourself. Someday you could be a state worth visiting, you could have the confidence and appeal if you worked on it. I admit, today I kept wishing I was in St Louis at Pioneer Park. You could be that great if you tried.

Goodbye Indianapolis, Goodbye Indiana. Tomorrow you'll be behind the tail of my plane and I'll be back in the mountains.

Where Would You Go: Florida

Florida isn't a small state, tucked in every corner there are fascinating sights and experiences from Miami Beach nightlife to the Sponge Museum in Tarpon Springs.
When people think of Florida they think of beaches and bikinis. I think of friends who travel or traveled renaissance festival circuit. I think of random conversations with gregarious locals and spontaneous adventures nudged into existence by the recommendations of friends. 
When I got here I was excited to stay in a Hostel just to see what it was like. 
In my mind I had set several goals: go to beaches, see cool places, maybe ride on a boat, swim, go to the Keys, visit friends. 
I have always wanted to see the Florida Keys. Sometimes I tease Danny because he'll get so set on a specific food or place that we arrange travel routes around his attraction to various eateries. I have that obsession with the Keys. I read a book called The Phantom Deer as a child. I've always wanted to visit the Keys because of that book. Silly maybe, but it was agonizing to know I was only two hours away and driving further and further out of range. I considered driving six hours to go anyways but reason won out. I could spend twelve hours driving in Florida for a glimpse of the Keys or I could explore around me and have time to appreciate what I found. Danny encouraged me to explore Indian Rocks, Tampa area. Reluctantly, I shelved my dream and in doing so, I opened myself to beauty, art, and adventures I had not anticipated. I never dreamed of Clearwater, because I'd never known about it. Discovering new dreams is like realizing the Sun is not the only star in the sky. 
I had a lot of work to do, friends I wanted to see in person that I've only been in touch with digitally. I also wanted to explore. 
In Miami Beach I stayed in a Hostel to see what it was like. Picture bunk beds, locked foot lockers for personal effects, unisex showers, full kitchen and a pool that closed before  I wandered in. Also picture the traveler's ire, the Hostel neglected to mention all the parking in the area cost $20 a night, making that $26 a night price suddenly equal to the price of a private hotel room where you don't share the room with thirty people or make your own bed. It felt like summer camp and would be fun in the right situation and location. It wasn't stellar with a complicated travel and scenario schedule to meet. I decided even if I had a busy day I would still try to do something to explore Florida. 
Wednesday morning I got up before the city. I made my way to South Pointe Beach, I met the stray cats along the path down to the pier. I walked in the sand, watched a huge cargo boat arriving with the dawn. I thought of how many bright lights, how many special people we've lost this year. Time, health, circumstance has gently carried them beyond the grasp of our hands and in doing so, has nestled their touch in our hearts. 
I finished working in the evening, I saw more traffic, more roads than anything else that week. I met friends and enjoyed a wonderful visit before racing away in the morning. Away from Miami, away from the Keys, west. 
I fought a headache, continued completing work assignments. I put on different identities every day, they pack in my mind, the TSA can't search them, airlines can't charge for them but when I'm working my head is full of synthetic, prefabricated baggage. It sheds as I walk out the door and pick up the next character. Keeping the aspects and nuances different for my own entertainment. Sometimes as I travel, these other people I create are my company as I'm alone in yet another rental car. I swear sometimes, I wonder when Tyler Durdin will get in and start navigating my routes while cynically describing the life endangering flaws on various cars we pass.  
Head trying to ache, rainbows in my vision I persevered. I went to the Mote Laboratory and Ringling Circus Museum that day. I loved the carved detail on the circus wagons, the giant banyan trees, the palace by the sea. My heart was warmed by just watching the manatees play and eat, learning about sea turtle rescue and seeing amazing sealife including inside out jelly fish and seeing shark pods. 
The friendliest corner of Florida, Clearwater. I met RickDaddy, who makes scrumptious spice blends and hot sauces. I enjoyed the best fish tacos I've ever had at his restaurant, Eatin Fresh. His goal is to serve twenty five people a day an excellent lunch. He does. He's working on putting in a beer garden, starting to bloom to connect with buskers who might be interested in setting an entertainment schedule with him there - offering permission to busk, promotion by venue, and pay based on draw. Very cool to see a venue growing, offering locals and tourists the chance to entertain and be entertained. 
I went to Big Cat Rescue and saw the rescue work they're doing, the education, and watched the various large cats enjoy a beautiful day. I went to the Dali museum and marveled at the works of Dali and Escher as both were on display. I added my wristband to the ribbon tree and walked the labyrinth there- the fourth one I've walked this year. 
I stayed with a friend north of Tampa, helped with technology quandaries and shared great conversations in the evenings while venturing out to the Sponge Museum, dolphin and shelling boat tour from Tarpon Springs; and walked the trails in Tampa Park. 
I walked trails in Baypoint, appreciated the flora at the Sunken Gardens and bought delicious chocolate ginger cookies to bring home from the St. Pete's bakery. 
I was more drawn to St Pete's than Orlando. I spent my time in Orlando visiting friends, swapping hugs and stories. 
I headed toward Jacksonville and the end of this journey. More road, more cheesy radio stations, more work. It was too late to hit St Augustine. I swear, as much as I'd like to go there that I'm jinxed. I always end up able to be there after five pm: which is too late to really see the oldest fort in the country, the Ripley's Museum. This time I was serene and picked a random park near Jacksonville. I went to Big Talbot Island State Park. It was a natural barrier reef. It was wild, desolate on that grey day and I was the only on there. Me and a translucent tiny crab that raced warily around in sand dunes.

If you go to Florida, explore the parks, talk to gregarious locals, make new friends and try places you may never have heard of. You won't regret the choice. The memories will be the best souvenirs you take home.

I still have a lot on my Florida would like to do list. I want to kayak in the Gulf. I want to see friends again. Someday. I appreciate that, for the moment I've got the illusion of being financially flush. The only way I could afford this adventure was because work sent me. Work pinned locations, receipts were gathered and it was the priority but that didn't detract from the excitement and adventure of exploring new places.

And there goes the drive shaft...

Over seven hundred miles behind us with an estimate of thirty eight minutes to go on our journey. Blue skies with light fluffy clouds had been with us from Minnesota to Colorado, telling us everything is gonna be alright. We're arriving two days before I fly out for work. We argue about work, Danny feels bad I work so hard to paid even a little bit. I feel like the travel I'm doing makes up for the hours of driving, flying, away and bouncing on hectic schedules. It seems like wherever I work, no matter than I work hard either my employers can't afford to pay me well or choose to pay and promote others while I do their work. Gripe. I focus forward and on the positive. I remember I'm flying not falling. Who and what stays with me, always has my loyalty, my love, and whatever I can give them from pictures of beautiful flowers, stories, an ear, a birthday present when I do have a little money.
No matter how hard you work, it's not really yours. I never work for money. I work to get the tools to live. The money is one of the tools- I pay my bills, buy food, help friends, try to invest in plans. Every time I get ahead, my phone gets vandalized. My tires need replacing. Something.
Nothing was on the horizon, I felt like I should be wary but it was nice to think I had a cushion started. After next week it would be a real cushion. I thought that as I went under an overpass. Thirty eight minutes when Danny's van slowed a little. It hesitated, then he swerved slightly before evening out. We had just transitioned from 76 west to 70 west outside Denver.
A long cylinder like a muffler but shaped like a footsie roll came out from beneath Danny's van spinning and bouncing out into the road! He was slowing down, I avoided hitting the object and other cars. We sped down the shoulder. Was it his muffler? Was it something he hit? Fluid was overheating, something was wrong as I watched white smoke escape up the back of his van. He stopped. I thought he parked. I parked. He suddenly started backing up. I screamed into my walkie talkie as I frantically clutched at my shifter. His trailerhit me as I started backing up. No answer came from the walkie. Ground control had asked questions all the way in, every thought had raced out my mouth into the walkie. Major Tom and Danny were equally verbose.
I backed up. Curse words bounced around inside my car. What the hell?
Danny's van and trailer stopped. I waited. When they didn't roll again I parked. Traffic went by less than a foot away. Danny and I got out and played frogger to meet in the middle. Hearing was almost impossible. Traffic roared endlessly.
Did you see my drive shaft he asked. I asked if it was a large silver tootsie roll, got a nod back. Nodded back. Danny gave me his phone, triple Aaa number and told me call 911 too. He went to loomfor the drive shaft. I juggled two simultaneous calls on two smartphones.
The trailer would cost us to tow, a little 4x6 with Danny's everything inside it.
Just tow it. It's just money.
Twenty minutes they said. The police arrived first. A wonderful female officer. She blocked the road with her lights on, warned to stay beyond the barrier as people often hit police cars. A fire truck was on the way. People don't aim at fire trucks. Please don't aim at Police cars people.
The fire truck arrived. Arvada Police and Fire kept us safe and we appreciated their gregarious support. We told them we would both donate performances to fundraise for them if they ever want us to.
Half an hour later the tow truck arrived. Traffic had not let him through. People. Three rules of driving sense: don't gawk focus on the road to prevent secondary fender benders, let emergency vehicles through including tow trucks- it will actually help congested traffic more if the problem can be quickly handled, three never pass a snow plow.
I suppose a fourth is don't have your transmission seize and rip your drive shaft in half, mangle your wire harness into useless frayed ends and really don't have your engine seize.
The mechanics looked up under the metal corpse as it bled the last of its transmission fluid on the bed of the tow truck.
The damage was severe. Engine. Transmission. Drive shaft. Wire harness.
All would need replacing. Wire harness may never function right again, which is like saying your spinal cord may not ever work right again.
They eased us into the knowledge that the van is totaled. No injuries. It's good for spare parts, a new van is the diagnosis.
Flying, falling. Aiming up. Carrying it. Sitting by a stack of medical bills, knowing I've got to deal with maddening beaurocracy as Danny's heart issues happened out of his home state. Medicaid would have been simple to deal with on this, compartmentalized care has offered states deniability. I may or may not have success. I've got no cushion. It's going toward a functional vehicle for Danny. We support each other.
It's not enough. Some days I wish I could make enough to take care of things like this.  To give friends more when they struggle. It's a tool. It's not important. It's just stress, a dead van, and the hope for more work.

Going Places from Public Transportation to Thought

My life has become points on a map, appointments and landmarks, roses and signs. Signs telling me where to go, how fast, when to go, what to do.
Still having visions of a bouncing, spinning drive shaft spiraling around the sound and sight of the new van Danny's getting next week. Two days from accident to flight. Work can't wait, sometimes life has to flex around work so enough can be earned to address immediate needs again. I'm certain, after ten years of getting by that no matter how ugh you've got it never seems enough. It never gets beyond the horizon. Brushfires have be one a way of life. Gig to gig, check to check, hoping it's enough and that more gigs line up. No time to work on new skills, no time to communicate, self promote or dialog for theater or event gigs. Soon maybe. Hopefully. Nothing like rapt listeners to infuse life and smiles into a storyteller's day.
Public transportation has become important. Shuttles, buses, light rail lines. Schedules, tickets and maps that can sometimes only recognized by locals.
I've found my favorite transit is the Skyway in Minneapolis. The Skyway is a walkway above the streets that is enclosed from weather and offers beautiful urban views, food and other businesses. It's nice to stand above the streets watching traffic. Eye catching art and architecture from the Convention center, Target Field all the way beyond the Government Center.
Do you know what Public transportation and walkways are in your area? Have you taken time to experience them?
I loved taking the light rail, walking a mile in the Skyway to Fanfest last summer at the Convention center. I was Tony the Tiger, giving high fives, hugs, and mugging for pictures. Those memories bring a smile, even though the event is long past.

What places bring bright memories to the front of your mind? What puts a skip in your step and laughter in your voice?
Has it been too long since you sought them out?

You can spend time complaining about schedules, transportation stress or you can focus on the lighter parts. Friendly travelers, different sights, tastes, sounds, history and culture or days wasted griping, venting and stuck in the mud of misery.

Life doesn't always give us choices. Sometimes we have two days to find what we need, we have to go away to work, we have to deal with hurdles to jump. Resent the jump or make it your own. Be glad that in the midst of everything, at least the nerves in your head are asleep again, that keeping stress focused on one task at a time is holding back the ocean tide of overwhelming waves of what still needs to be done.

I'm grateful today for how many lives we touch. We don't always appreciate how much impact our loved ones have in others lives, how much impact we have until chance shakes it up.

Where would you go: Boise?

When the boss said Boise, I wondered what was there beyond work and potatoes. When I asked if any of my friends lived there, only one in several thousand responded that he had originally come from Idaho, the others pondered potatoes and mountains with me. Did anyone really live there or was it just a weird silhouette on the instant potato packets?

Boise wasn't a huge city. Idaho is one of the least populated states. I found a brochure boasting of museums, many free or low cost including military, state, black history, penitentiary, mining, and the World Birds of Prey center. One picture showed a lady mugging for the camera as if she was in a giant baked potato with a butter pat melting on her brow. I pictured myself in the baked potato, prepared myself for the absurdity. I arrived to find the State history museum closed for renovations, all the tantalizing truths and trivias of Idaho and the baked potato set locked away and dark.
I was distracted from my melancholy by a beautiful rose garden, the scent of roses was the scent of Boise. In October I seemed to find roses everywhere instead of potatoes. I wandered into the BAM, Boise Art Museum and enjoyed a myriad of well displayed ceramics, glass, paintings, photographs, and sculpture with absolutely no potatoes. Ansel Adams was well represented.
I enjoyed delicious sushi at Superb Sushi Downtown. I strolled past the Egyptian Theater showing Army of Darkness, and looked at the Capital building.
The next morning I started by visiting the Nature Center at the Department of Fish and Game. I stood on a bridge watching a seven foot long sturgeon slide through the water below, adept at moving without rippling the surface after twenty five years of swimming. I learned what science is doing to bolster Idaho salmon populations in the face to dams and other obstacles beyond current and waterfalls between Idaho and the sea. I went to the Mining museum on the State Penitentiary grounds. I learned about what stones come from Idaho, examined various stones with a handheld microscope that showed what it saw on a television. I appreciated an impressive black light exhibit.
I was deciding where to go next, hours to go before my flight when a man in uniform gave a bright smile and asked if I was going to stop at the Penitentiary. I wasn't, but seeing others going in, and such gregarious tour guides I decided to. I walked into the State Pen. I paid to get in. It closed in the seventies before I was born. I stepped into the courtyard. The walkways were surrounded by roses. Lovely, bright roses against stark stone and rusted iron. I went to the rose garden, a sign told me five prisoners were executed there. I snuck in to the buildings in the allowed areas and looked at the cells. My imagination was working overtime on escape plans even though I was free. I learned the history of prison tattoos and of events and colorful characters including escapees. There was a weapons display in one building with everything from grease guns, shoulder cannons to an early gatling gun. It was an Impressive display of grenades, mines, guns, swords and various accessories.
I left there with images of shells and mortars dancing in my head. I wandered next door into the Botanical gardens which were where one of the prison yards had been as well as several graves.
Scarecrows hinted at Autumn, roses, vegetables, pumpkins, sages and many vibrant landscapes unfolded as I explored.  An oriental chime which requested I toll it three times and make a wish. I wished that no challenges we face this year be greater than our strength and may our friends know our hearts.
I finished my exploration by seeking out the Bogus Basin park. I pictured a basin, water. I was dead wrong. I drove a ribbon of switchbacks higher and higher out of Boise. I ended fifteen miles out at a ski resort that still had up to go. Golden fall grasses were worn by soft edged rolling mountains around the basin were Boise nestled. Evergreens accented the heights, golden sage flowers and rust colored dried grasses played in the breeze at lonely vistas where I stood alone surveying miles without a soul in them.
Still no potatoes.
I had Mediterranean food, they tried giving me fries instead of rice but I turned down the potatoes when they finally tried to slip incongruously into my meal.
Lewis and Clark came through, geography happened from earthquakes to bottles of ash from Mount St Helens and the ground spreading and stretching with time, where once the Pacific shore was in Idaho.

Hard to get lost, not so many people and lots of wild places where perhaps once people worked in remote areas striving to bring the golden blood that brings a deadly fever of greed with it out of the ground.

That's where I went, where would you go?

Where would you go: St Louis?

Six hours in St Louis to explore, where would you go? What would you do?

I pursued history again. The site of the 1904 World's Fair. I went to Forest Park. I started out geocaching while I waited for the museums and zoo to open. I walked around enjoying the flowers, trees and waterways. The zoo and museums have free admission. If I lived here, I would visit often and volunteer at one of the attractions.

I started with St Louis Zoo. I went into the penguin and puffin house, enjoying the proximity and character of both birds. Everyone was talking about the new polar bear. I stood at the glass outside, amused at how much other people wanted instant satisfaction- to see the bear right now. While they walked away, the bear came around the corner. I walked with it. The only thing between us was less than a foot of glass. We walked together the length of the window. The bear turned and wandered up on the rocks. I turned and wandered the zoo. I watched a tiger resting in a pool of water. A volunteer told me about popcorn plants and had me touch the leaves to smell the rich, buttery scent. Here, I'd just been looking at the golden flowers.
Time flew, the zoo was huge! I raced out and up the hill to the St Louis Art Museum. I strolled through admiring diverse artworks from abstracts to impressionists.
I sat on the rocks at the edge of picnic island. I admired the Great Basin. I even had time to appreciate exhibits at the Missouri History Museum on the 1904 World's Fair and on what St Louis was like in 1895.

My time was up too fast. The memories were worth it!

Taking Chances

The day was grey. The sky spit rain sporadically, just enough to goad me into turning on and off the windshield wipers. Vehicles in front, behind along the highway all filled with different lives, dreams and realities.
I saw a vehicle and camper along the side of the road, broken down. About a mile later, in the drizzle I saw the determined walk of a traveler carrying a backpack fighting a rolling suitcase. What if our roles were reversed? Normally, my car is too full to offer rides but I was driving a rental which happened to be a small van.
What if he was me?
I pulled over. I saw relief in his face.
He was only going fifty miles up the highway to his mother's house. I was going further. As I drove he told me about himself, what brought him there. He told me he'd been stuck there most of the day with a low charge on his phone. No one stopped to even ask if he needed a hand, a ride, anything.
He had just mentally told the universe "Haven't I always stopped to start batteries, change tires- yet I'm stuck walking fifty miles in the rain? See if I help anyone next time."
Then I pulled over. I offered a ride. A woman taught never to let a stranger in her car. He told me all this. He was dumbfounded. Why did I stop, he asked.
"If it was me, I would have hoped someone would do the same. I have three good friends who hitchhike frequently. All three are guys who are trustworthy, intelligent, caring, and giving. If I a was stranded I would hope someone would take a chance and help me out."
He spent part of the ride trying to figure out what to give me as a reward. I had to tell him repeatedly that it wasn't about getting anything- it was lending a hand where it's needed. I told him pay it forward.

We take chances every day. Are they always wise? Sometimes we pretend there isn't a choice. We give ourselves reasons to burrow into detached apathy.

Talk to strangers. Meet your neighbors. Learn about the realities other people live inside, when you do it often enough you find it easy to change your own. Grow. Learn the names of the plants that grow in your area, which ones heal you, harm you or which ones you can eat. Learn the history of your community. Learn about different cultures. Sing a song with the radio. Do something you have never done before.

I take risks. I accept the price of taking chances, for me it's a better investment than living like I'm made of marzipan cowering on a shelf.

Sometimes our weaknesses and flaws are our strengths, depending on whether you use them or let them rule you.

Contradictions and Crossroads

I still see the yellow line even though I'm not driving, it streches through my thoughts with caution signs. Caution: sharp when irrate, easily distracted, stubborn, self reliant, distant, restless.

My head fills with questions as I drive:

Why do hotels claim to have free WiFi when their signal is a suggestion of false hope, vanishing whenever you notice it at the edge of your screen?

Why are we so contradictory?

Why do we claim to care for each other, the environment, and what we eat- while devouring deep fried artificial meals with enhanced flavor to hide the lack of taste as we finish with a benediction about how some group meeting a specific description is actually the ultimate villain of all time necessitating destruction, prejudice and punishment?

Who made us the judge and jury?

Why do we have to fight over what words in old books should structure our lives and our self judgements? Why can't we focus on living and teach children to step away from judgement?

If your ancestors were persecuted and forced to follow a different religion, why are you so loyal to it? Stockholm syndrome?

Why are some people so determined to become enraged at the idea of taking the power in this country away from the 1%? If you aren't in the one percent is it because you think some day you could be?

These thoughts and a thousand others go through my head. If you are offended, why- you do not have to think them.

I'm not going door to door spreading my inner musings, nor am I set on harassing you by sharing shock style, offense evoking memes on your page or to your email. Incidentally, I have had other do those things to me then call me names via email because I don't argue with them.

  I don't post my beliefs to your wall or your email. I don't name call. If you've got to do that, you've got First world problems. You post for prayers, I politely use your preferred terminology to show support.

I've got memories of the dead. I've got memories of the living who are beneath you, around you and often avoided. The discontented, the imperfect, the different, people with stigmas who are actually incredible. Arrogance is cocaine, ego is alcohol and prayers are prescription pain killers. Denial is heroin.

I've got priorities. Food, shelter, friendship, love, my health, the health of those around me, the environment I'm in. No blame, no resentment just what can I do to enhance the world I'm in.  To meet needs and wants as best I can. Go without the frills of wants for several years and your mouth tastes like ashes when you walk into a consumer wallet sucking store full of everything you will never need. Selfies are fostering a new type of narcissism.

Why go to a beautiful place to stare at yourself?

No store sells love. No store offers contracts on self esteem or guilt reduction. No store carries discipline on its overstocked shelves between smartphones that think for you so you can live numb with the drugs and the sports and the petty tabloid dramas that titillate.

I can't go into a loan officer and say, what work can I trade you for that guy's health back?

Why isn't there an easily accessible way for students to go and get help when there are conflicts with colleges- why is it always on the student when in all other business deals there are easy to find advocacy and mediation organizations?

Why do we focus so much on the unimportant trivia and so little on the real priorities?

What are we going to do with all the excessive unnecessary smartphone cases? Are we going to use them as roofing tiles?

Even if you discount my musings:

The next time you start to stereotype in your head, stop.

The next time you have an intolerant reaction, pause and put yourself in their shoes.

It's not about being right. It's about being.

Why hate?

I put on different faces, different names so often that I've learned you can believe in anything for a while. You can love and adore it from cars to philosophies. You can put it down and walk away.

Take what you need. A friend emphasized finding the merits in all perspectives rather than focusing venom on the points to distort and feed hate.

I change every day. I'm the same but different, like everyone else I'm full of cobtradictions but when I chase down irrational beliefs and thoughts I create a crossroad. I move beyond them, leaving them with their toxic treasures and their thumbs sticking out.

The world is too incredible, life is too short. I'm still seeing the reflective paint guiding me forward but I'm not afraid to park and walk outside the lines. Are you?

What do we value?

Traveling for work, stepping from plane to shuttle to rental life and back I feel like an interloper from another world.

Excess surrounds me. Have a lot of money? Indulge in novelty like matching accessories or unnecessary doodads that I'm sure will look stunning in a landfill someday.

The buzz of conversation, boasts of spending money on frivolous things while whining about inability to pay one's own rent, and let's politely ignore that person layered up in stained shame outside sets me on edge.

What do we value? Cheap, novel goods overpriced and advertised in ways to feed our already oversized egos? Is this really who we've become? Toddlers with expense accounts in adult bodies?

Do we value each other or do we look at each other as steps to stand on and grind down with sharp judgements?

If we valued ourselves then we wouldn't choose to buy into a shallow, narcistic, self absorbed culture. Wouldn't we care more about appearances beyond the layers of makeup and tedious pop songs about getting screwed up and fucked?

It is hard to listen to boasts of waste, couched in immature terms when I see the faces of those living in another America. The voices of those who stand at the edge holding onto what others consider outdated moral codes are loud but to the multitude they are static, to some politicians they are silent. They are helping, feeding, caring. They are Americans I am honored to be proud of.  Roll down your window, you'll hear them. I share a post on homelessness and two people acknowledge it, I see posts on time wasting, ego feeding garbage and it's been shared thousands of times. Those two people, they're giants of amazing beauty in my world. Those people trying to support those without, those humans- they are incredible. You should aspire to be one or if you are one, you know how much I appreciate you. Thank you.

I'm tired. Language is gagging me. You're beautiful. No, let's be honest. You look like you. Sometimes you look great, sometimes you don't. You're amazing. Let's be honest. Amazing is climbing Everest. I'm not even amazing. I'm tenacious, stubborn, blunt, aggressive and outgoing. I'm as gregarious as a summer day with the potential of storms or beauty or both. I'm unique. You're unique. Just like everyone else and there's millions of us. We've got to get over our need to be the special snowflake. Reality is there are millions and in the end they all melt away leaving a brief memory if that. It's harsh. It's true and it's past time we face it.

What do we value? Do we really value each other? Are we really caring or only when it's easy or there's publicity? Are we truly parasites feeding off each other, choosing to inflate prices and profits to become rich? Why do we put the rich on pedestals when many got there by stepping on and ruining others as well as traumatically wounding our environment?

We claim to love puppies and kitties but we don't get our fixed and thousands are inhumanly killed at shelters every day. Out of sight, out of our mind, and someone else's problem because "OMG did you see the new ******"  A friend died this year because of a treatable infection. I had months of dialogue, trying to connect him with help. Him falling through holes. Him in pain. Him alone. In pain. Posting from another friend that he was dying, dying, gone. It's unreal. Talk about something you don't need but dropped hundreds on. I see his dead face. You should too. Remember being human and caring for each other first?

What kind of world are we shaping?

I live in two world. I step out of an airplane among Elloi then walk back around the corner among the morlocks. My face doesn't change. I'm in the same skin. Both acknowledge me as if I were kin.

A shuttle driver warned me last night I was staying in a dangerous hotel. I thanked him and told him good. When someone needs help, I'll be in the right place. He actually paused at the next intersection and looked at me. He said I was right and more people should. I told him, it's a choice I make to be human not ruled by money or appearances. It's about doing what's right and taking it with you where you go. It's not always easy and it's not glamorous. It is the American I choose to be.

So I'll ask again, what do you value? If you stepped outside yourself and heard yourself would you be proud or embarrassed? Why are we so bent on being shallow? 

Beauty isn't the packaging, it's what is inside and how we choose to live.

Next time you get a chance step into another world, a world that exists in this one. One that's real and ugly. One that reminds you you are normal, average, one of millions. Unremarkable and soon forgotten. Now go forward. Become something more through your actions not your purchases or peacocking.