um. yeah.
that pretty much sums it up.
you nailed it, mon ami qui est loin et devrait être ici et avec qui je veux marcher et parler et rire et pleurer.
(because sometimes i like to speak french for no apparent or necessary reason.)
it’s what we did.
it’s what we do.
[Death Valley. 11.2010.]
[your photo of the day. welcome.]
i shattered my phone once upon a time while running from a flood in my basement.
and replaced it in an unfamiliar mall in boston just 1 day after i’d left for the road trip.
for 35 consecutive days, i bounced between the 5 songs i’d managed to transfer to my new overpriced phone and the radio stations that changed formats as frequently as i changed zip codes.
m&s was one of the lucky 5 that made the transfer and carried me across the country.
[along with a talking heads tune that brings new meaning to classic and oh.hell.yes.]
beginning officially on an open highway on the east coast.
and ending somewhat broken in a parking lot on the west.
[but the good kind of broken. because we know this is possible.]
whenever i hear this song, like i did tonight, i’m right there.
and i am thankful.
there are not words to describe how much.
even though i think you already know . . .
the 30:30:30 gig (officially titled “The Unstoppable Tour”) has exited the grueling post-production process and has finally been brought to air. i haven’t stopped by ESPN that much (or at all) this week, but i’m told it’s been all over the place. it is also being uploaded online, one episode per day, and can been seen at:
truth be told, as light and airy as the episodes are in actuality, watching them (for me) is a teensy bit heavy. the good kind of heavy, but heavy nonetheless.
and this isn’t really all that surprising. trust me. this is a feeling i’ve grown quite familiar with over the years of pouring my soul into something, seeing it come to fruition, being incredibly proud of it, having it change a small (or big) piece of me, and then realizing it was so very good . . . but it’s over. sort of like watching home videos from your favorite vacation ever and then realizing you aren’t there anymore but you’d really like to be.
the end of some jobs are difficult. for one reason or another. i sat in my car and cried my eyes out the day i had to put my final wrap on Half Nelson. it was the most perfect job i’d had up to that point and it had set a bar that i feared my way-too-young career would never reach again. and it scared me. had i already tapped out in my early 20s???
this one was different. there aren’t words for the amount of uninhibited exploration and soul searching that was done in those 35 days. it was probably similar to the experience of hiking the Appalachian Trail, solo, but better. and there are likely only a couple of people who even have the vaguest idea of what i’m talking about. and really maybe only one.
i walk away from a lot of productions and disconnect from them in the amount of time it takes for me to pay the parking attendant who’s been watching over my car for the previous 16 hours.
[or driving it around the city. i know they do that. like the time i got in my car and the stereo was blaring a latin station i didn’t even know existed and my air conditioning was set on level 6, out of 5 . . . there’s a reason they ask you how long you’re leaving your car in their care as they hand you the ticket and hope you don’t come back so much as a half hour before you said you would.]
but then there are the jobs that sit in my chest for a little while.
like this one.
and i know i am better for them. and smarter. braver. more creative. a better negotiator. a better schmoozer. a faster thinker. but always, always, wanting just a little bit more . . .
[or a lot more. let’s be honest here.]
that is the unspoken curse of working in an industry that is a constant revolving door of the unexpected. matched with a girl who does everything with her heart and is sometimes nostalgic to a fault. but how can i not be, when standing on those very high peaks that sam is standing on in the photo above becomes a part of my responsibility? how can i not think back to the very day i was there, the things i was thinking, the moments i was living, and not have it weigh a little heavy on my chest? i would be crazy. and i would be wrong for this job.
i lead with my heart in absolutely everything that i do.
and these 35 days – and all that took place inside of them – was no exception.
i caught a lil' bit of heat for not putting on some sort of over-the-top performance (read: slideshow presentation) of my nationwide tour upon my return. i thought i did my best in dropping snippits here on the bloggity and making calls to the homestead to tell all the loved ones how the trip was going. but apparently my best wasn’t quite good enough.
they.wanted.fireworks.
with music.
my parents (who think facebook is crazy – and are probably right) missed all the mobile uploads and 3:17am status updates when, well, that was often all i had time or energy for.
the facebook iPhone app has, in fact, made it easier to drop a quick “hey look at me, i’m standing on a sand dune!” rather than to sit down and rummage through thousands of photos that, for the most part, were just a part of my jay-oh-bee. a job that requires me to take an absolutely absurd amount photos. and often times when i’m done with them, they just get offloaded to my external hard drive and left for dead.
until i need to reference them for the next film or commercial.
so alas, mom and dad (and all the various people who requested individual play-by-plays) . . . here they are. well, not all of them because, for heaven’s sake, i have enough sense to know that you aren’t all that interested in seeing 90 photos of a football field and associated equipment locker in the middle of phoenix. or 45 images of the stairwell in the sears tower. and you could probably do without seeing all 17 soccer fields in west chester, pennsylvania. because they all look the same. and they all look like grass and not a whole lot else.
by default, work photos and play photos got systematically separated during the trip. usually at 2:10am while i sat sorting, categorizing, labeling, and ftp'ing them from inside the 4 walls of a hotel room that i would spend no more than 7-10 hours in. before moving on to the next hotel. and then another one after that. but then again, work was play and play was work so it's all kind of mixed together. this assortment will undoubtedly have really great moments left out and will certainly include things which are of no interest to anyone, but what’s left here is a collection of about 275 which sums it all up pretty well.
except that it doesn’t really sum it up at all.
that would be impossible.
[i don't exactly know how to embed an entie album here in the form of a simple link, nor to i have the patience to figure it out. all i know is that if you click on the picture below, it will take you to the rest of the album. have at it.]
“it wasn’t over. IT STILL ISN’T OVER!”
name that movie.
no, wait . . . don’t.
it’s embarrassing enough that this film quote has decided itself upon my inner dialogue, but it’s the first thing that came to mind. and it stuck. so deal with it.
the white impala is no longer mine. that gps lady no longer tells me to “turn left, then stay left, then turn left, then go point 2 miles and turn left”
that’s a circle, bitch!
we got along most of the time.
and now i’m left with the 96,000 photos i took as a means of relaying my world and direction to the crew that was always 4 days behind me. and then 3. and then 2. and then we were reunited on an island and it was sort of like christmas. but unseaonably warm. and on an island. with no christmas trees. otherwise, it was just like christmas.
i also have the infinite number of shampoo samples which i’ve crammed into my medicine cabinet. somewhat unsuccessfully. and about a year’s worth of expenses and paperwork to go through.
and about 300 free nights in hotels.
[hello, hilton family. so glad to be on your priority list]
oh, and travel pasta (thank you, angie . . . it made it all the way from vegas, through the entire state of nevada, and all of cali, and back across the nation again. and it makes me smile. and think about gavin. and cars.)
and i have the memories.
more memories than i’m even sure my soul knows what to do with. and certainly with no knowledge (yet) of how to process them appropriately. or maybe they don’t need processing at all. maybe they are just fine left unprocessed. like raw foods. which is fitting, seeing as though the memories themselves are rather raw.
because they just happened.
people keep asking me what my favorite part was.
favorite part?
that’s sort of like asking people who their favorite child is. and while they probably secretly do have one, the rightful response is always “i have no favorites.”
so my answer will remain the same.
i have no favorites.
and if i do (which i do), i think i’m keeping it to myself.
for now.
in the meantime, you can have my highlights. in no particular order. whatsoever.
[boulder, colorado. i like it here. probably should have put it on my list of college towns. which i realize is somewhat blasphemous with regards to my beloved athens, but we are talking in pretend terms, so it doesn’t count.]
[lake tahoe, california / nevada. because it encompases 2 states. which is rad. i don’t think this needs further explanation. and no, it’s not the encompassing of 2 states which makes it rad. figure it out.]
[chicago, illinois. which is sort of the perfect city because it has all the things about new york that i love without all the things that i hate. at least that was my impression. and there’s a lake. a big one . . . and other things which make it a highlight.]
[lake tahoe. again. okay, so that’s 2 for tahoe, 1 for the rest. whatever, get over it.]
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[general store. placerville, california. okay, so maybe this isn’t saying much to you, but you weren’t there. like i said . . . some things i keep for myself.]
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[en route to san francisco. while discussing the importance of eating an in-n-out burger while on the left side of the country. which never happened. if the sky looks like it was on fire, it’s because it was. even an east coast girl can say eat it, east coast.]
[alamosa, colorado. or just outside of it. there are cows nearby. i liked the cows.]
[in between central city and grand island, nebraska. there is an incredible small town blue collar pride here that makes me want to do something more honest. and be better. a lot lot better.]
[san francisco, california. should i go on? go here, dream here, do big things here, and stop complaining about how expensive it is. they have sea lions. i could move here. tomorrow.]
[and thank you.]
[zion, utah. it’s sort of a lame photo, i admit. but there is nothing i could show you that would justify the awesomeness of this place. it shook me to my core. and wait until i stain you with the video of my star athlete climbing that vertical rock on the left. you will book a flight the next day. it is that epic.]
[arizona. the.whole.damn.state. . . . don’t want to live here. ever. but i like it, nonetheless.]
[denver, colorado. any town that grows flowers in a toilet gets a thumbs up from me.]
[great sand dunes national park. just go there. and then thank me.]
[santa monica, california. let’s just pretend, for a moment, that it is entirely separate from los angeles. which it is . . . in my own mind. there is a ferris wheel. and sand. and drunk yoga on the beach. and a plethora of wetsuits which make the pacific ocean look like it’s been taken over by seals. and a sunset that will make you reevaluate your entire life.]
[catalina island, california. okay i just realized the majority of these photo memories take place in california. shit. this one also needs no real explanation. just go there.]
[the cows. in colorado.]
[columbus, ohio. another cool town which i think might get overlooked. unless you are an ohio state fan. or me, who gets shipped there without knowing it’s actually a cool town. i like surprises.]
because it happened.
and because this is another photo op found inside an elevator shaft.
and because corporate suits are already talking about doing it all over again.
to which i reply:
yes.
team cutter took the road by storm (as if that wasn’t already happening) and embarked on a seemingly illogical reverse adventure.
los angeles to denver.
with no stops.
with raging hangovers under our belts (thank you, wrap party, i forgot how much i love mixing tequila and red wine. and a lot of both) we pulled out of santa monica well past the sunset, pumped up the jams at decibels worthy of a high speed police chase, and found ourselves in denver 19 hours later.
the cutter crew is made up of 4.
and we all serve a purpose.
i have been designated Cutter 5.
in the military, people are assigned numbers in accordance to their position.
5 is always the medic.
[or so i am told. i’m not in the military, so what do i really know. i’m just going with it.]
which is awesome considering all i can remember from CPR class is something about blowing air into one’s mouth and then pushing a whole bunch of times on their sternum until it either snaps under pressure or the heart starts beating again.
but i’m sure i could save your life if push came to shove.
this reverse trip wasn’t part of the original plan.
i was supposed to take a flight back to new york after logging the first 6,798 miles.
solo.
[and if you do the math, that’s the equivalent of crossing the motherland twice. at least. holla.]
i thought driving across the nation once would be enough. more than enough. i’m-so-tired-of-driving-i-want-to-put-my-skull-through-a-glass-window enough. that kind of enough.
apparently not.
cutter.0 (as in cutter-point-0 . . . that’s just what he wants to be called. even though it’s not an official rank. i didn’t argue. we’ll make it official for our own amusement.) wants to go to Amarillo next, eat a 72-ounce steak, and have all of us buy matching shirts and knives with our names on them.
that plan got vetoed rather quickly by the production company sponsoring this little journey.
perhaps because texas is not even remotely on the way from denver to new york city.
even though we tried to convince them it was.
with an atlas in hand and everything.
or perhaps because they knew we’d be putting all related expenses on the company amex.
which is hardly true.
i was fully prepared to purchase my monogrammed knife all by myself.
in any case, it was a good idea . . .
put your glasses (or styrofoam cups) together for the cutter crew. lord knows, we are.
it’s the 2nd to last stop.
sort of.
i still don’t have a plane ticket home. and i still don’t care. it seems better that way. and it’s not my problem anyhow.
they could ask me to drive back across the nation.
and i could say yes.
in a week’s time, i’ve devoured vegas, death valley, lone pine (as if there could never be two pines. and definitely not three), lake tahoe, reno, placerville, san francisco, santa cruz, los angeles (and all the bits and pieces that come with that), and san diego – with a pit stop in san clemente for homemade chicken soup and some family. family i haven’t seen in a decade or more, yet it kind of seemed like yesterday. that’s the good kind of family.
the week looked a lot like this:
and i looked a lot like this:
[always with a seatbelt on. safety first.]
and my world was summed up by this:
[which, ironically, was found on the inside of an elevator shaft. but true. oh so true]
i hit 2 bars named sierra gold in 2 different cities. both with a closing time of never.
i sat inside a 400 year old general store in the middle of nowhere (also known as one of the greatest small towns this country has ever known. or, perhaps, not known) and wondered to myself not only how did i get here, but why did it take me this long?
i visited the sea lions at pier 39 who have it way better than the rest of us, stacked on top of each other in a lumpy pile, and wondered if they would like it if i pet them or if they would rather dismember my body limb by limb.
i had my life changed in 3 seconds by this:
and had my life changed again only days later by this:
2 words: lamb skewers. it’s like crack on a stick.
that is if i did crack and enjoyed it. then it would probably be something like that.
(hana zen. san francisco. go there, if you know what’s good for you. in fact, do just about anything in san francisco, if you know what’s good for you. and then do it all over again.)
i walked around in the pouring rain. and liked it.
i laughed a lot.
i even cried.
i rolled the windows down and sang my favorite song at the tip top of my lungs and then got pulled over by a cop because said song and said singing turned my rental car into a rocketship. apparently. allegedly.
and then i was told i could expense my speeding tickets to the company.
which.is.just.awesome.
i picked 2 cities i want to move to and mentally made plans to move there as soon as i conclude this adventure.
and i meant it.
or mean it.
i took a bath with a miniature whale.
i drank overpriced vodka and ate overpriced food and had intellectual conversations about the art of filmmaking. with strangers.
i stared at this for a really long time and solved all of my problems. and probably most of yours, too:
i had my heart stolen by wonder.
and restored by newness.
i did a lot of things, saw a lot of things, thought about a lot of things that i will keep only for myself.
because they are better that way.
because they are mine.
and then i looked back through my photos just so that i could know for certain that it was all real.
i’ve made a dead stop in my tracks a few times over the last (i’ve lost count) many many days. which have now become full weeks.
soon to be over a month.
but never have i stopped as many times as i have in the last few days.
maybe it was the pacific air.
and maybe it wasn’t.
as i make my way down the coast of cali this week, i will inch closer and closer to the end of a journey that not only surpassed my expectations, but changed everything. and by everything, i mean a lot. and by a lot, i mean i don’t really know where to begin.
my biggest fear is that i’ll wake up in my own bed and think it was all a dream.
how could i not?
on the drive from san francisco to santa cruz this afternoon, i stopped for this:
something pretty awesome happens when that sphere of fire dives into the ocean.
and something also a little teeny bit sad.
the day ends.
and it might have been your favorite day. (it was.)
and you might not have wanted it to end. (i didn't.)
rest easy, people. there is a high note here:
THE SUN COMES BACK.
truth.
i knew this was going to happen. i asked for it. prayed for it, even.
a few posts down – and what seems like a lifetime ago – i wrote something about how my job is always forcing me to waltz myself into people’s lives, stranger’s lives . . . whether they like it or not.
since i left home, and watched the odometer tick from 278 miles to 3,899 miles (and counting. ohhh we are still counting), i have spent a pretty decent amount of time alone. mostly in the car. and in the hotel rooms. and occasionally at whatever joint i stumble into, always with a notebook in hand.
the notebook makes me look like i’m doing something. like i’m busy. like there is a reason i have the notebook and am semi-pathetically eating by myself.
which i don’t actually mind.
there are weirder things than eating in a restaurant alone.
and on a few stops, i have even managed to strike up a conversation with whoever is lucky enough to be seated next to the girl with the noteboook. who is eating alone.
on another stop or two, i actually made a friend.
but back to waltzing my way into stranger’s lives . . .
yesterday morning, i watched the sun rise over the red rock canyons of new mexico.
with cecilia.
cecilia is a Navajo chick with kind eyes, leathered skin, and a thousand years of wisdom.
i knew cecilia for about 12 hours.
i’ll probably never see her again.
but for 12 hours, she was my sidekick. we explored God’s paradise and corners of the earth that are not only mostly uninhabited, but rarely visited by the likes of us who choose popular and rather cliche haunts (i won’t name these spots. i don’t want to offend. but you know what i mean. and if you don’t, it’s really not that important) to vacation or simply pass through with a wide eye.
for 12 hours we swapped stories about life. stories about adventure. stories about which barista at starbucks she prefers best and why.
and then i was gone.
on my way to a new city, to meet new strangers, to waltz into new lives.
it leaves me a little sad. the knowing that i won’t likely see cecilia again. ever.
but it leaves me changed.
and better.
there are a lot of good people i have met throughout this journey.
they all have a story to tell me and they each come with a simple way of opening up my mind and my world. and even my soul.
definitely my soul.
most importantly my soul.
[sunrise over the red rocks. with cecilia. gallup, new mexico.]
been on the road for 10 days now and this is what i have to say about it:
I HAVE THE BEST JOB IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD.
i knew (read: thought) there would be highs and lows along the trip.
there have been no lows.
well, except for yesterday during the period of time when i thought i was going to pass out on the fax machine at staples because i never went to sleep the night before and i was in full red bull-induced adrenaline overdrive.
but that’s okay. no one deals better with sleep deprivation that yours truly.
it’s an art form and i have mastered it.
i heart chicago.
and that’s all i have to say about that.
when did the hampton inn become nice? or has it always been nice and i just didn’t realize it?
hampton inn gets a thumbs up. two thumbs up even.
three, if i had three thumbs.
so far, i’ve inhabited 3 or 4 on this journey. each room a bit better than the one before.
this morning i was so comfortable in my over-sized king bed with the amazing sheets that i am sure were brand-new-never-been-used-just-out-of-the-packaging-no-one-has-ever-touched-these-sheets-before-me. it was pitch black dark (thank you, heavy curtains that i want in my own real life bedroom like as soon as i get back home. whenever that may be) in a way that probably feels natural to bats.
i had to drag myself from the bed. not at all because i was tired. in fact, i woke up well before my alarm. but because i am in l.o.v.e. with this bed.
which has never been slept in before me.
don’t tell me otherwise.
off to chicago.
off to another hampton inn.
(p.s. indianapolis has a make-your-own waffle machine thingy . . . bonus points)
there is a long stretch of road where my hotel is. we are calling it route 8 because that’s what all the signs say. with the advancement of technology, such as gps, i don’t really have to pay attention. but let’s assume it’s called route 8. there is probably another name. something more local. but anyway.
there is an assortment of establishments along this road. and gas stations. and rite aids. and other things the people of pittsburgh probably frequent more than necessary.
it came down to Applebees and this other “restaurant / tavern” joint that looked like it probably housed a clientele a step or two above Applebees.
and i was right. and happy with my snap last moment selection. Applebees can go either way, and after a full day of scouting soccer fields followed by 5 hours in the car, i wasn’t in the mood to play Russian Roulette with food chains.
Joe was really nice to me. his daughter is going to college and he loves her so much that he wants to move to Penn State if she ends up there. and she said that was just fine. and i like that because i can tell he would be crushed if she chooses to go to Tulane. even though i told him she would really love living in new orleans. he didn’t want to believe that. he has his heart set on Penn State.
he bought her mace and a stun gun for Christmas.
i like Joe.
