Anyways, I didn't hike the mountain. Sorry to disappoint but there was an 80% chance of thunderstorms in the region we'd be going to, so at 7:30am we bailed out of the operation. I was actually kinda relieved. The idea of driving four hours - albeit for the noble and worthy cause of bagging a peak - wasn't exactly sounding so great at that hour. Coupled with the forecast, I decided to opt out, as did he. Something about being >3000 ft up as a thunderhead roils above you just doesn't sound pleasant. So instead, I ended up spending the day in my own neck of the woods enjoying bright sunshine and experimenting with the concept of setting up and then staring at my little yellow home. It's raining outside right now. And my tent is nice and exposed to the elements. I did this on purpose. I need to know how well that thing will hold out water before I set up shop in Americas Rain forest. Smart, no? Why yes, yes it is.
And though I've been up since 9 and it is now edging towards 1 as I sit here clacking away, I am still of a mind to take a walk. (I prefer to do those things earlier than this). Its not so bad when you have a rain jacket and good headphones. Plus its 78 degress out and humid. The jacket I bought says "breathable". Lets see if it really is. The alternative would be me turned into a clammy mess, so lets hope the tag didn't lie to me.
See, rain gear! (Oh, and a hat, a really awesome hat that serves no function other than being awesome).
I went for a bike ride yesterday in tribute to the exercise gods. It was too nice of a day to do nothing physical outdoors. I made yet another mental note that I don't like my bike. I need a road bike is the problem. The one I have is a mountain bike and it's not good for propelling myself at high rates of speed down asphalt like I want to. That, however, is a purchase I'll save for later, once I have an income again.
So, mountain plans aside, this weekend really was quite excellent. I spent Saturday night drinking tequila sunrises with one of my girls - we'll call her M. The air was so perfect we sat outside all night under a patio umbrella. Behind us was the Atlantic Ocean. We couldn't hear the waves over the sound of music and scattered conversations, but knowing it was there was all that actually mattered. Then Last night I spent about four hours driving around with another compadre - we'll call him J - listening the classics of American music. Need I say more really? I don't think I've gone cruising like that in...well its been too long. If theres one thing I love, its watching my music tastes change and evolve. I think a lot of people have lost touch with just how much amazing music is out there if you dig into the past. There are a lot of good bands out today, but I always tend to be out of touch with them. The reason for that is that I'm always more interested in the roots of the music we have today. Blues, old country, rockabilly and swing. Its all a journey. The amazing thing about music is that you can actually hear the journey.
Life is about changing. And nothing speaks to me more about change than when I go and listen to the roots of a genre and then wind up to what plays today. Like being 25 and dying to leave. You have to look at the past to see what factors influenced the current noise that's in your life. When childhood fades, and the people you grew up with are making new little people of their own, it makes you put your own life into perspective. The kids I grew up with - they have kids. And the life I knew before...it's gone now. I have to be an adult in this tumultuous mess of uncertainties. I'm the type of person whose always had a lot of dreams and goals and aspirations, but always took the safe road instead of the rocky one, thus I constantly was shelfing those dreams for a later date. And while there are a lot of people out there who are a good number of years older than me, and might scoff at my 25 year old anxiety....truth is...25 is all I know. Maybe when I am 40 this will seem like a cakewalk in retrospect. But I'm not 40, I don't think like a 40 year old. I think like a 25 year old. And right now, this 25 year old likes to set up tents in her backyard and imagine. She likes to drink tequila with M and stare at the ocean. She likes to cruise for hours blaring George Jones out of J's pick up truck speakers.
And eventually, she'll understand the sounds of the genre that is her own life, and she'll start to understand what those roots are leading up to. Till then, I'll type about it.