The Miles We Travel in Search of Ourselves

A Long Road Home

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When you drive alone in a car for 8 1/2 hours it gives you a lot of time to think.

Of course, you can distract yourself by listening to the stories of other people or music. But that distraction only works if your mind isn’t constantly connecting what you hear with what you think or believe.

I learned that as tears poured down my face while listening to “The Tornado Prom” story on This American Life.

I learned that laughing my way through Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me¬†and thinking, I would love to be a reporter on NPR.

I learned that listening to the podcast about Pop Culture from NPR (I’m not sure what it’s called, but it is connected with Monkey See. The discussion of books led me to think, “Oh, I should read that” but even more “How do I get paid to review books.”

When I lost the ability to listen to the podcast, and went to music, every song had a message for me . . . about life, about love, about following your dreams.

And the miles passed.

I thought about the millions of miles that I have traveled throughout my life. Sometimes the miles led to adventures, sometimes the miles led to comfort, but rarely have the miles led to home. I mean, I am technically “home” now, but I haven’t found the home that makes me stop wanting to following those miles.

Will I ever?

I’ve found temporary sanctuaries, but not permanent homes.

I was talking to the cook at the Summer Theater where I left Nathan and she asked “Where are you now?” I answered, with my usual “Kansas face”; the face that says I’m here for now, but hopefully not forever. She answered, “Oh, I thought you would be wandering gypsies” and then told me about this family she met in Florida that were travelling the country just to see if they could.

Part of me thought, how cool is that.

My journey is long–both the metaphorical one and the physical one. I wonder if and when I will ever come to rest.

Touched By Television


P Television

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Okay, I admit it. I am addicted to television.

Well, actually I’m addicted to Hulu and other sources of television on-line since we no longer actually have a television set. The advantage to watching shows that way is that I have to make conscious choices about what I watch, and I can watch at convenient times.

The disadvantage is that, when time allows, I can go through a show watching binge. I gorge myself with past episodes until my head is so full of what I have been watching that it affects my dreams or sleep. I guess it is better than a food binge.

Last night, my decadent festival of sweetness involved catching up on episodes of Playful Kiss, the Korean drama that has me completely hooked. I cannot resist agonizing with Oh Ha Ni in her love/hate (but mostly love) relationship with Baek Seung Jo. For me, the show is an interesting study into cultural difference as well as a sweet dessert after a long day. Sometimes I want to shake Ha Ni, and make her walk away from the teasing cruelty of Seung Jo. Go find someone else, I want to scream. But then I see Seung Jo falling in love with her, and I fall in love with him a little bit as well. I am totally fascinated and can’t help but over-indulge.

This morning was a different track of deliciousness, as I caught the most recent episode of Glee. After sobbing through the entire episode, I have to say it is the best so far this season (and one of the best overall). It had an actual story, and the songs came from that story. In that way, like a sound track to a movie or a musical, the songs reinforced the emotion. I found that much more interesting and entertaining than the Brittany Spears episode that was frivolous and meaningless, emphasizing sex for no reason. I enjoyed the tears that came from fabulously sung songs. Manipulative, sure, but for me it was also a rich way to start the day.

Yesterday I wrote about reading, today I am writing about television. They each serve a purpose in my life. The each allow me new ways of looking at the world. Sometimes they make me laugh, sometimes they make me cry, sometimes they make me scream. They allow me to feel, in the privacy of my home, so that then I can face the rest of the day with calm.

I wonder if there is something strange about that. Oh well, if so c’est la vie. I am excited about anything that gives me the urge to write.

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