Draft Box: On A Dark, Desert Highway…

It’s harder to write when you’re happy.This mini epiphany strikes me at 2 in the am, on this slingshot drive through the Sonoran Desert.

I want to stop somewhere, lay out, listen to music and stare at the sky. Take long-exposure shots, draw out constellations and capture shooting stars.

The desert is one of the best places for star-gazing. I could easily attain a peace of mind over here. Minus the thought of rattlesnakes, sidewinders, tarantulas, scorpions, and el chupacabras. Actually, I’d want to see a sidewinder.

my dad is refusing to let anyone else drive, so he’s been piloting this Pathfinder for 6 hours straight. As usual, my siblings and cousins are asleep and I’m in the company of my trusty ‘Notes’ app. I can’t sleep during road trips, it’s complicated. That, and if you couldn’t tell…I’ll draw inspiration from anything to write. Or make art. Or both. I just love art and writing, maaayne.

Where was I going with all of this? Oh yeah, ‘happiness.’ I found that it’s harder to write or draw expressively or creatively when your emotions are in tune with everything around you. This is probably why numerous authors, artists, and musicians abused drugs and drank rather profusely, to escape—to open new realms of imagination and/or unleash their emotional discord. Also, the era and culture. It’s easier to create from an intoxicated or cacophonous stream of consciousness. Hemingway said it best: Write drunk, edit sober. Reminds me of the scene from Walk Hard, where Darlene warns Dewey that LSD could awaken his inner demons…before he drops acid with the Beatles. Fun fact: Bob Dylan put the Beatles on Mary Jane, no Rick James.

I feel like I’ve squeezed out the last ounce of my anxieties to my awesome support system. Lol the acronym for ‘awesome support system,’ would be ASS. But seriously, these so-called ‘problems,’ are totally surmountable.

I remember someone telling me that the easiest way to take risks is to know that you’re going to die anyway. A morbid way to put it, but otherwise, a very true statement. Didn’t Steve Jobs say this as well? Okay, i bet tons of people have. But honestly, we have nothing to lose. The year is still young, everything’s been this giant waiting game, but my patience is being tested and life’s too short to not enjoy the moments in-between.

Due to the sedentary lassitude induced by this seven-hour drive, my brain deviates from conscientious thought, and instead, tells my mind to focus elsewhere. As if to say: ‘just stop thinking.’ I’ve always been the type to go-with-the-flow, but adversity came naturally to me. I grew up learning that undesirable outcomes were stepping stones to where I needed to be. And it’s silly to stress over the unknown. I take a deep breath, and look out the window. Somewhere, Wile E. Coyote is plotting to take down the Roadrunner at daybreak. He will fail miserably, but his persistence will remain an admirable trait. A viscious cycle. Even at this hour, the desert is teeming with life. And I have nothing to complain about. I’m at peace, and life is good. Regurgitated statements from a lackadaisical brain. My apologies. On the other hand, smooth cruise, radio lull with an Eagles song in my head: pure bliss. Simple things are happy things.

Draft Box: The Pacific Paradox

Sometimes I wish that the LBC wasn’t so far from SD. But these evening road trips are always worth it. We’re cruising down the 5, homeward-bound, with those goldie oldies on full-blast. Vermillion lights flicker along the OC coast like a swarm of fireflies, floating above a nocturnal sea. I find myself strangely captivated by the allure of a pitch black canvas—the sea and the sky, merged into nothingness. The stark contrast of this imagery is a sight to behold—hauntingly eerie and delightfully enchanting—all at once.

In this vast, open space, I feel diminutive to the world, and once again, wanderlust strikes. Also, travel envy is serious. I wanna go back to Tokyo. Back to Seattle and Philly. LA. The NYC. Visit Hong Kong. Seoul. London. Paris. Rome. Sydney. Chicago. Atlanta. Bahamas/Caribbean. The list goes on. Thanks, Instawhores. There is just so much out there, waiting to be explored and experienced.

I usually can’t stray away from this state for too long. But I know that no matter where I go, or what I do, SD will always be right here waiting for me, like a Richard Marx song. As much as I love leaving SD, there’s no greater feeling than coming back home.

I feel like falling in love with this city again—beach seshes, city strolls, adventures and all. And as my thoughts dance, I think to myself: “ah, a life-long romance.”