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Hello my dear old pals,

Well, it is yet again that moment of the year. The time I once again desperately try to catch up with you all and bid everyone warm wishes from whatever point in life I am currently calling Today. As I write to you on this lazy Sunday afternoon I am cozy and tidy back in the warmth of my ma’s little house in St. Louie. That’s right, I have returned to my midwestern, cornfed roots, if only temporarily.

After spending eight glorious years in Santa Cruz I decided about a year ago it was time for me to make some major change in life. Yes, life in Santa Cruz is more beautiful than words can express. My discovery of running West Cliff at sunset this past year truly brought the wonderous colors of that funny little town into focus. I miss being able to bike to work and being employed by the nicest and noblest boss I’ve ever known. I find myself insessently day dreaming of my life Santa Cruz style: those foggy morning beach trips with Vern and three unbelievably adorable dogs; delectable lunch dates pared with a sundry of errands while cruising with Jen; late night classic movie marathons with Dexter and Beebo, staying up far past our bedtimes but holding out as those magical moments of Doris just don’t stop. I long for it all and miss every wonderful person two time zones ago that have for so many years now helped me be the sunny person I love to be.

Since I last sent a massive update to you all I returned from the Netherlands from my month long visit in January. I readjusted to life in Santa Cruz and proceeded to enjoy a completely charming past nine months. There were a few trips to the city, ballgames, countless beach moments, my first trip to Disneyland for Dexter’s birthday, excellent Game Nites, lots of fabo dinner dates, an excursion to Bakersfield and San Luis Obisbo, a visit from Dave, Prides, a road trip to Vegas with Anna, camping in the lower Sierras, a return trip to Amsterdam to check out schools and visit with Dave and a hodgepodge of merry and gay times simply good old homestyle.

So, after eight mellow and delightful years in such a picturesque place why in the world would I spend week upon week consoildating my posessions, deconstructing the snug and familiar homebase I worked so hard to create and, most significantly, abandon both having my dad and sister be only a beautiful hours drive along the coastline away and a daily life teeming with some of the best friends I’ve ever known? That my friends is a very, very good question. However, as most everyone who dealt with me on the road trip out East told me, I can always go back. Word.

I suppose I came to the conclusion about a year ago that Santa Cruz is a small town and we live in a big world. I have been unpresidently lucky and privileged in life to see so many inspiring places, both near and far, and to have experienced so much newness. When it comes down to it, I therefore moved out of selfishness, a desire to take new risks and explore the foreign. I need to take these wonderous opportunities I’ve been offered in life and do something with them. I figure now is my moment in time for such drastic change. I am at a pivotal point in regards to work, I have no children or relationship rooting me to one place. I simply yet challengingly have to distance myself from treasured friends and family who I have no doubt will make room for me in their futures once the dust eventually begins to settle.

So, about three weeks ago I packed up my baggage, sadness, shock and staggering excitment into my silver Honda and left Santa Cruz. My bummed yet understanding friends and family showed their love for me as I pulled out the driveway by telling me how much they hated me but the emotion on their faces still evident behind obese sunglasses left no doubt in my mind how difficult change can be. Fortunately, Veronica rode shot gun with me while Nathan and the dogs caravanned all the way to Bakersfield so I in a sense still had some semblence of the sweetness of Santa Cruz with me even after crossing the county line. Twenty-four hours in Bakersfield with Vern’s family and her mother’s filling and delectable Mexican food added some comfort. Yet, as the hours dwindled I once again had to face another horribly tender farewell.

With three hundred miles ahead of me until Vegas I drove fast and alleviated my low spirits remembering I know change is always good for me even when it seems bad. Plus, picturing a fabulous future with me living in cosmopolitan San Francisco, just a modest and jaw dropping drive from sleepy Santa Cruz eased my blues as well. I made it to Vegas by early evening and found my brother’s condo conveniently in record speed. I stayed with Andrew and his wife Jenn for two nights. Their company and the distractions of Sin City reinvigorated and reminded me why I went to all the trouble of uprooting myself to begin with. However, within forty hours after arriving in Vegas I was once again having to say a difficult goodbye and climb back into my car brimming with both artifacts of my past and desired tools for the future. With 1,600 miles to drive I had all the time in the world to think. My plan had always been to leave California and use the road trip to become excited, think of the future and begin my new journey. The only problem was however I didn’t realize how devastated I would be because my now old reality was gone, or perhaps more accurately, drastically changed forever. Somehow despite all of my careful planning and coordinating I had neglected to pencil in the intense sadness and feelings of loss I felt while I flew on down the freeway. My fun, wild and single road trip I had schemed transformed into a long, emotional and desperate drive to get to my mom’s house as quick as the freeway could take me.

From Vegas I drove 573 miles and made it to Albuquerque just after sunset. The trip was difficult but gorgeous. We live in a fasinatingly strange country. It is huge. It is politically frightening. Yet it is truly majestic. I think the red rocks of New Mexico were my most favored backdrop. I only hope to visit those places again sometime in the future armed with more time, a more cheerful mental state and preferably a friend or two. Beautiful. Unfortunately, about ten minutes outside of Alburquerque I got in stop and go traffic as there had been a minor accident. After sluggishly wading through the traffic and picking a exit midway through the city I tore myself off the driver’s seat and got cozy in a hotel for the night. Treating myself to a shower, room service and bad television I vegged out in awe how drastic change can make you feel. Eventually sleep ensued and I was more than happy to comply.

On my own in a foreign state and feeling rather raw from weeding myself out of California I tried to normalize the trip as much as possible. Shower. Breakfast. Coffee. Gas. The route from Albuquerque to St. Louis was a long haul but I was anxious to get to the next step. The thought of being back at my mom’s with her and her sweet dog Harold warmed my shakey emotions. I peeled out of Alburquerque and watched the country go by. Numerous Native American tchotchke shops, the largest cross in the Western hemisphere and unbelievable vistas beconded me to stop but to no avail. Through New Mexico, Texas and Oklahoma I made great time. When I reached Tulsa I only had 395 miles to St. Louis but I had been driving all day, racking up 650 miles. Figuring sleepy night driving wasn’t the greatest plan I found a cheap motel on the outskirts of Tulsa thankfully with cable television including Bravo so I could get my weekly fix of my only steady tv show Project Runway. After dinner and Runway I crashed.

The last day of my road trip was rather quick which was steller as I was anxious to get there already. I flew into Missouri and continued to watch the landscape transform. The rushing deep earth red slopes of eastern Oklahoma and southern Missouri gave way to the ample rolling hills of autumn colored tree tops I remember from my youth. The freeway cutting clear through the limestone rock of the Upper Ozarks. These were how I knew mountains as a small child. That was of course before my eyes laid upon the Rockies, the Sierras and the Alps and my cornfed references as to what constitutes a mountain were corrected. Floating amid the tree tops I became antsy and fully ready to arrive. Just before sunset I meandered through St. Louis county rush hour and happily arrived into the comfort of my mom’s place. One step of the odyessy fulfilled, immeasurable strides still unfinished, shapeless, open and under construction.

So, for the past couple of weeks I have begun shaping my next few moves. Thankfully I have fully recovered from the exhaustion of the road trip. After leaving California I felt similar emotions as one does after breaking up with someone, except in this instance I didn’t feel it just around one person but more like six or seven people. I have since mended those sentiments and my feet are finally beginning to touch the ground. Simultanteously I have been resolving those lovely moments of thinking… geez, I’m 27 and living at home with my ma…. Eeeek. As much as I love my mom and Harold I had to fight off those sentiments of feeling like a total loser. Fortunately, for everyone involved I’m over that, having a great time with ma and now in full project mode.

What kind of project mode you might be asking yourself? Well, the latest version of the plan is as follows: I am applying to design schools for next fall both in the States and in the Netherlands. All of my applications are due by February 1st. If it was just a matter of essays it might not be quite so time consuming but no, over-ambitious little me is attempting to create a mother of a portfolio which all of the schools require. Right now I am working on five pieces simultaneously. I hope to have fifteen in the portfolio total. Phew! So life is busy busy busy even though I’m not working and I’ve yet to attempt a social life which indeed could exist for me if I wanted. I have perhaps a dozen or so friends still in the area who would be puzzled if they knew I was here already and have yet to made contact. Whoops. NOTE: For all you fabulous St. Louie folks be assured I’m finally coming out of hiding and would love nothing more than to catch up with you witty ones now that I am adjusted, chipper and normal as I get. Grin.

Upon arrival in the Midwest I froze like a deer in headlight not only as a result of the hugely drastic changes that had occured for me but also because of the very lengthy realities of the application process. All I could see was the ever intimidating P-O-R-T-F-O-L-I-O. However, after a few weeks of organizing, projecting, etc. I am fairly confident I can pull this off. Fairly. The programs I am applying to are in industrial design. After working in architecture for two years I weighed in on what I enjoyed about the profession and what I found to be lacking. Industrial design is a field that integrates art, psychology, ergonomics, enviromentalism, engineering and techology. I believe I could progress and adore the industry quite well. My skills and passion match what is required quite well with one exception. I draw like a child. Fortunately however I have been blessed by a couple suggestions to acquire the book Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain. It is a phenomenal read and convincing me that I just might not only pull these admission deadlines off after all but I can also immensely develop my sketching skills. Go figure. So, here I sit in this 12×12 room concocting the future and assuring myself that there is in fact yet another uncertain adventure around the corner for me.

After completing my applications I will simply be waiting to see where the chips fall. I am hoping to know where I am headed this fall by May. The months from February through August remain fuzzy. I am certain I will be looking for work. Perhaps in Missouri. Maybe in California. Imaginably in the Netherlands. Only time will tell. No doubt I will be back to California for a visit next spring. I was sorry I was not able to say goodbye to everybody in Santa Cruz before leaving. My departure was hectic despite all of my pre-planning. So to those of you who I never got to see right before leaving have no fear. I am forever rooted to the Bay Area, a complete travel slut and a moderately decent pen pal. And to those of you who were around for my exodus, thank you! The thanksgiving dinner was so sweet and quite the surprise. I love surprises and never get got! but ya’ll made me jump. Seriously. Thank you to all who contributed. Also, our last minute Game Night wholly reinforced for me how many absolutely great souls I have the delight of knowing. So thank you good folks in California for helping make my years in Santa Cruz freaking phenonmenal. I miss you all!

And to the rest of you I hope our paths will cross again real soon. Hopefully everyone is swell, happy and getting cozy for the approaching winter. Drop a line if you get a chance, if not, no worries. I know how crazy the realities of daily life seem to just flood the time away. Please remember though that despite the fact that we might not converse much these days I think of you all often and hope everyone is having a productive, healthy and happy year. Anyway, not much else new. It is cold here some days, warmer others. I am trying to prepare myself for the first non-Californian winter I’ve experienced in a long time. It should be amusing. So there’s the update. That’s all for now. Until next time.

Lots of Love from the Heartland!

Dylan

This entry was posted on Friday, November 3rd, 2006 at 11:11 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.