Destination: You Can Take the Girl Out of Kansas...

But you can't take the paranoid, anxiety ridden, introversion out of the girl.

New York should be my worst nightmare, and in fact it was for quite some time. It bewildered me! The thought of an upwards of 19 million people living, and comingling with one another in such a small place was fact enough for me to stay far far away. I occasionally grow overwhelmed in Wichita traffic, let alone the traffic I only imagined in NYC.

I pictured a colony of ants, piling on top of one another, toppling and squirming over other ants, fighting for survival, survival of the fittest. So obviously, my view of New York was less than favorable, in that I no longer pictured human beings, rather mere instinctual insects with phenomenal building skills.

So, I'm sure you're wondering how I survived such a trip, and if it's possible for you to do the same.
Here's some advice, from the expert, from the girl who lived to tell the tale.

Navigating New York With Kansas Mentality

1.    NYC is only a small portion of the state. It’s called New York CITY for a reason, I suppose. The expectation was 5^th Avenue, upon 5^th Avenue, upon 5^th Avenue. The reality was much more peaceful, and quaint. Away from the bright lights, and skyscrapers is a very beautiful and picturesque state. So get out of New York City!

2.    My group learned this the hard way- Don’t Drive! If you think it’s a good idea, I’m here to tell you it’s not. I will say though that if you have a large family, then yes by all means pack them all up and just drive. Yet don’t drive in the city, please. I’ve grown angry at the movie industry for the poor portrayal of NYC parking. Subways are good, buses (in my fair opinion) were even better. Also, we have these things called legs, and feet. They work wonders.

3.     When traveling with kids you will learn that the word “bored” can be said an upwards of twenty thousand times a minute. (True statistics, I promise!) So be prepared for a lot of hyper tiny people making grabs for your phone. I would suggest preparation in the form of ANYTHING! Ipads with Netflix, notebooks and crayons, a Gameboy (do those still exist?), etc. Busy children = quiet children.

4.     Another thing with kids is that their walking window is very small, in that they tire out very quickly or grow uninterested very quickly. Have the mentality that allows for breaks, and frequent rest stops. Also, keep them engaged on the journey. When they have something to look forward to, or a destination of their choice they’ll walk a lot quicker, I assure you. (I suggest the LEGO store. That got me going too!)

5.      YELP will become your best friend. For those of you living under a rock, YELP is an app you can easily download on your phone and will save you many terrible dining experiences. Granted, sometimes it’s unreliable. For instance, Taco Bell was given 4 ½ stars out of 5. Yet don’t let this discourage you! Go for cheap, have no fear, don’t judge a restaurant by its sign, and always check the chicken before you eat it.

6.  You will want to stare, believe me! The city is full of every walk of life, full of every sort of person, hairstyle, outfit, everything. Don’t be alarmed. To prevent unattractive staring, much like a tourist, simply take a quick peak followed by aloof deadpan glances at the ground. The few New Yorkers I observed were absolute pros at it.

7.  As stated in Tip #1, NYC isn’t all there is to see. There are many little towns, sans Stars Hollow, that are just waiting to be explored. I felt as ease strolling down the windy roads, high up in the mountains, exploring the many bookstores and antique shops along my way. Warwick, Pine Bush, and Gardiner are three whimsical towns that would warrant an unexpected stop.

8.  While seeing a show on Broadway keep in mind that if you’re wearing a suit, dress, or any such finery you will be extremely overdressed. (This tip was inspired by Mr. Jurassic Park t-shirt. Sir, tucking in your shirt which happens to have a dinosaur on it does not make it any less casual. The Angel of Music is very strict!)  

9.  You won’t see a celebrity. You just won’t. They have some sort of secret transit system I’m certain they use. Yet you can convince yourself of otherwise. I’m still telling everyone I saw Jimmy Fallon, or at least a look alike.

10.  Go to the MET as early as you can for the full experience! And take many selfies with the statues, the guards just love it! And please don’t pay just a dollar, you look tacky and people will follow you around with shame-face the entire time.

11.  Central Park is for coffee and French macaroons. Let the kids run wild. Enjoy the live music. You deserve a break.

12.  When dealing with anxiety in the city know you’re not alone. You’re basically another sardine packed with all the other sardines just trying to cross the street. Take deep breathes, smell that hot trash, and thank your stars you don’t have to do this every day. Yet, while you’re there take it all in, plan on adventures, allow yourself to actually enjoy people because there’s gonna be a lot of them.

13.  And above all- don’t forget to tip the characters in Times Square. They want your money, and they will get it one way or another.

I suppose it wasn't until we were packed yet again to the brim with the open road ahead of us, and 21 hours of driving in our immediate future, that I really took time to reminisce. It was such a pleasant trip, more pleasant than I could've ever imagined, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Well, maybe in a few heartbeats, because I have a cat that needs some attention.

And now that I'm in Kansas again, home again, I hope to provide more posts in the near future. You know, that is if I'm not busy living the adventures and have time to write a few.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is, stay tuned!

Happy Reading.

Destination: I'm Running Away

I get in these moods where I feel trapped. I feel like the walls are closing in on me, and if I don't do something, anything, then I will suffocate on my own air.
Anyone else feel the same?
Well, the way I cope with this is either
1. Nothing. Which leads to a dark depressed state of mind, where I frequently go just for the company, along with all my mistakes, disappointments, and hypothetical situations that like to talk too much. This usually lasts a short period of time- until I'm able to work through it.
or 2. I run. And I don't mean "I gonna go for a nice jog to clear my head". No! I mean run, as in run away. As in I pretend like I'm fleeing the country, and starting over in some magical land overrun by book characters I've created in my ever racing head.
Keep in mind though, that I never end up too far. I make it to the woods behind my neighborhood. And I call them 'woods' very lightly. It's basically a couple trees next to a water plant and some roads. Yet it's quiet, and if you try hard enough you kinda forget where you are. There's a special rock I like to sit on. Also, I'm using 'rock' very lightly because it's really a perfectly smooth slab of concrete. I've nicknamed it "The Crying Concrete"- it's seen many of my tears. 
But enough of this melodramatic monologue. In addition to it being my favorite hiding spot, Dad and I like to go down there and shoot our sling shots, because this is Kansas and there's not too much to do besides eat.

Dad and I are basically the same person, operating from the same brain so we understand each other very well. When he starts getting in these moods I can easily detect it- he gets antsy where I get broody. So, Sunday lent itself handsomely to a walk in the woods.
It's a mere right turn, right turn, left turn, left turn and you're in the woods- your ears filled with the sound of the Arkansas river. The river we all like to say 'doesn't smell' and 'doesn't look like a sewer'. We have to make the most of what we have, I suppose. It's a yearning of mine to live by water, I've always been drawn to it. Perhaps it's due to my isolation from it. As a child I would drag blanky, and Dog-Dog into the bathroom while my Mother took her shower. I would lie on the outside of the shower, stuffed dog underneath my head, and the sound of water trickling from the spout sending delightful chills up my back.
The water we have running behind Sunrise street is all we have, and all I've ever known- so I've learned to appreciate my travels down to the water's edge. And my father being apart of so many of those journeys, has had a tremendous impact on my life.

So on that bright Sunday afternoon, Dad and I set out on a journey of our own making. It's hard to go on an actual 'journey' in Wichita, Kansas, yet we have accepted the few walking paths, and even made a couple of our own. The clouds kept us company, and were a topic of intriguing interest in our dynamic dialogue. I found myself slowly talking more and more as we walked, each step I took I emphasized another word, and another discovery. Dad is now thoroughly up to date with my earthly findings.

The mangled trees, most commonly seen in the winter months, greeted our path with folklore and legends to occupy our imaginative thoughts. There's something spellbinding about the woods- fairy tales, musicals, and myths are all centered around the wonderfully dark and mysterious places. My Father and I have a special fondness for trees, gnarly ones with a history and a past we can only imagine, and imagine we do. We spin tales, which lead to hopes, which lead to dreams, which lead to some of the most comforting moments. My Father has always allowed me to talk, and talk, and talk, and he never grumbles. Rather he listens to each and every solitary word, and he replies to pondering questions, and complying silences. And so I continue until my voice is weak, and my mind is satisfied.

"If you truly love Nature, you will find beauty everywhere."
-Van Gogh

Dad and I continued our escape by collecting treasures. (I found a shell given to me by a River-Maid. And that was no ordinary leaf, but the last leaf of winter, to send to us good tidings of hope for an early spring.) As we skipped rocks we yelled at birds, and rejoiced over finding new flat rocks. And we kept the prettiest ones, yet gave the water back the others. Our pile of findings grew and grew and soon the backpack we took with us was full of shells, and rocks we would display around the house.
The sun continued to go down, so we found it best to walk back home before dark- it is the woods after all. While we walked to the river in chipper abandon with quick and witty dialogue, the walk back was full of companionable silence. It's a beautiful thing to share mutual silence with someone, no awkwardness involved, just the soft whisper of the wind in the trees and the fading sound of the river rushing downstream.
And it felt like we weren't home. And it felt good to get away. And it felt good to start missing my room, and my books, and my cat. And then everything was good again. And I can continue to appreciate where I am.
And the clouds continued to keep us company.

 When we returned home, Mom was waiting at the door, greeting us and relishing in our higher spirits. No longer was Dad antsy, and the water had broken my brood. I proceeded to walk throughout the house, like I was seeing it for the first time after a long time away. And it never looked more beautiful, and my books never looked so magnificent, and Scout had never been more happy.
It takes a lot of knowledge to live. You have to know what keeps you going, what keeps you from shutting down. It took me a long time to learn a routine, and I'm not embarrassed to admit it, nor ashamed. I've learned that a little water, and a couple clouds can keep me sane for a little while longer. That is, until the next time I'm ready to pack up and run- then it might be a cheap coffee, or a hug that holds me a little longer, maybe even someone will hold the door for me.
It's looking for the sun through the clouds. It's dancing in the rain. It's double chocolate chip cookies. And the smell of old books. It's life. It's life, and it's beautiful.
And if you don't take my word for it,
take Scout's!
She's proof enough that life is adorable, and cuddly, and has the cutest meow- or at least she does...

And that's the face I would like to end with.
Sleep well everyone! And until next time, keep running away and continue coming back,
Happy Reading!

Destination: Memory Lane

I’m not sure if this is true of everyone- but out of all the memories I have stored in my head the majority of them revolve around the sky. Cloudy days, sunny days, snowy days- most of my recollections are tied to my memories of the sky.

For example, I have this very vivid memory, from when I was a wee child, of a morning thunderstorm. I woke up as soon as this loud CRACK! of thunder reverberated off our house. I bolted right out of bed and went in search of an adult. The entire house was dark, save for a light in the kitchen. As I went around the corner I found the most glorious sight- my Meme! And not to mention the expectation of a delicious breakfast. After my nerves were calmed, we sat down at the dining room table, Mickey Mouse pancakes and fruit soup* ready to be devoured, and gazed out the window at the dark grey sky. I don’t remember anything past that, nor what we talked about, yet I know that thunderstorm mornings will always be promising days.

What influenced my pondering, besides the fact that my mind is constantly racing, is that today is a sunny day. Sunny days are mysteries. They either hold promise, or disaster. Now we’re all wired so differently that many of these feelings cannot be explained. You see, sunny days hold many memories for me, and a large portion are not pleasant ones. Perhaps it’s the people I spent them with- many no longer in my life. Perhaps, in my opinion sunny days are always too much- too much sun and too many people. And the sky does that thing where it washes out all the blue from the sky, as the day progresses, and when you look up all you see is white.

While I was reading “The Reader” (you can find the link to the review in the right-hand column) I came across something that stood out to me, particularly for this day.

“Sometimes the memory of happiness cannot stay true because it ended unhappily. Because happiness is only real if it lasts forever? Because things always end painfully if they contained pain, conscious or unconscious, all along? But what is unconscious, or unrecognized pain?”

Now let’s give this some thought, do all memories stay happy? What do you think?

Or do the future actions of others blind us to the happiness we experienced? I’ve given this much thought recently. It’s hard for me to think of my own happiness, once that happiness has been clouded with unfulfilled expectations or misplaced trust. Yet is this right? It WAS a happy moment. I remember being happy, so does that memory all of a sudden change once I’m no longer happy. Is happiness only stable if the people involved are stable?

This kind of thinking can lead to absolute darkness, where your head is full of blotted out moments, and faceless people. If you commit to relying on the fickleness of humans to define your happiness- you will no longer find any joy in life. Which is not to say that a measure is necessary. There are memories that need to be clouded for a time in order for hearts to heal, and emotional wounds to close up.

Memories are a fascinating being, which I suppose is why humans are also fascinating beings. Yet, this leads to another pondering question- do memories make us who we are? Or rather, how we remember them? Is it the person we are that makes a memory? Whereas one can find happiness in a memory, and another can find sadness in the same? One might see adventure when another finds loneliness.

I suppose we all must answer these questions for ourselves. As we strive for understanding we are left with even more questions, and as we answer these questions we are met with more and more and more.

And as we stroll down memory lane may we not fear the blots, and may we not create them. Memories create fear and joy, comfort and distress, they burn down buildings and build up mountains, they remind us of love, and  help us recall the things we were scared to lose. Without memories, we would only have moments. And moments fade away so quickly.

The night is no longer young, so I shall sign off until next time. I have some reminiscing to return to,

Happy Reading.

*'Fruit soup' was created through my stubbornness. I had a hard time accepting the bland nature of fruit, and vegetables for that matter. To make 'fruit soup' merely place about a cup of your favorite fruits into a bowl. Pour cold water over the fruit, and look proudly at your creation for just a moment. Proceed to eat the 'soup' as any normal person eats soup, with a spoon. Reward yourself for your resourcefulness, fruit serving and water intake all at once! Whoa fella, slow down, the world is not ready for you. (Yes, this was a real thing I did. Yes, as I think about it it's actually a little odd. No, I do not enjoy this delicacy today.)