The Clichè Kid

I turned 18 an hour and forty minutes ago, officially. It would be clichè to say that this is a milestone in my life, just as it would be clichè to say how I feel, because I think we all feel this way when crossing a "milestone" in our lives, so I will save you my ravings. I can say this, however, as I turn 18 with only a week left in Wisconsin, I feel my life stirring. In one week, I will be in a different time zone. I will be surrounded by man-made structures; the only signs of divinity lie in ocean waves and Redwood trees. I will be on a bus once again in my life surrounded by people I won't know who won't know me. Strange things are afoot and I can only imagine if it will ever settle down. I am nervous, yes, but I know I am ready to leave Wisconsin for California, just a clichè kid and guitar heading Westward ho!

The Final Stretch

My summer has hit a plateau of excitement, 10K probably being its most recent climax. I had one of the greatest times of my life. I spent it with people I love and we all had a great time. Now that I'm home, I've fallen back in place with my circle of friends, our sources of entertainment so limiting we often resort to apathetically waiting for something to happen, unlike 10K where something was happening all the time be it a show or a dude tripping balls in a rabbit costume trying to hide behind your car in the middle of the night and scaring the shit out of you. There are no tripping rabbits here. I've spent the past few days packing up what little I want to bring with me to California in large Rubbermaid tubs, squeezing in a stack of books and movies and music things and other knickknacks I feel the need to take with me. The rest lays out on my desk and floor, waiting for a box to be put in. These last nine days in Wisconsin are easy to pass by but difficult to see go. As I recollect my memories with their materialistic apprehensions, I say goodbye to an eighteen year history here, only to start anew and create my own. 

10,000 Lakes Festival; Pt. 2

I am making the transition back into the "real world" once again. It is part culture shock/part familiar but all the same, I'm back to where I was. For the past week I was lost in a world where anything is acceptable (except playing metal bands on the stereo). At 10K, I expounded on ideas about time, music, space, hacky-sack; I danced until I couldn't dance anymore. I wore a skirt and felt 100% comfortable about it. I followed random kids down a dark trail. I saw the Flaming Lips and Dark Star Orchestra, among many others. I hacky-sacked with complete strangers (I take that back; there are no strangers, only friends you haven't met yet). I bathed in a lake. I had an excellent time with Gregg, Lauren, Amanda, our three neighbors Ross, Kate and Adam, and my great friend Jenn, who, living in the moment, decided to come and was nearly fired from her job. I was able to be myself without having to sacrifice to others' prejudices about appearance and such. 10K is my heaven, my nirvana. The energy there is divine. I am now home. Dreadlocks, dirty clothes and beaten-up shoes are replaced with blue jeans and crew cuts. Drum circles and nearby footsteps are no longer heard. I now spend the little time I have here waiting to see the world.