the guy at Starbucks officially knows my "usual"

Dear Blog,

So adventures are inherently uncertain. I'm pretty sure that's the source of their appeal and the reason for their pursuit. But when does uncertainty leave the realm of psychological or physiological arousal and enter the realm of inconvenience and disappointment? For the readers of my last post, you might think I am living it up on Lopez Island with my buddies, rumbling around on my motor bike. Well the day I was going to go meet the others, I learned that they were all experiencing travel fatigue, no one wanted to pay the ferry fees, and Casey wanted to go to Sarasota for a week or so. So I stayed in Mercer Island and my cousins extended their indefatigable welcome to all my buddies. So I said: Ok, as long as I get to see my friends I’ll be happy. This was true…to an extent. Friend times are always the best of times, but gosh darn it, I need to change the tempo of this summer. I need to go to places I’ve never been before, live with a mission. I’m afraid I have completely lost touch with the grand vision for the summer.

Patience, young flower; your turn will come.

The past few days have been quite fun. It’s been great introducing my friends to my family and visa versa (although I’m not sure how well I prepared Marvin and Kathleen for our collective laissez-faire/ je ne sais pas… life-affirming style. But it’s all been great.

The other night the boys, Cousin Caitlin, Rachael and I drove out to Carnation to watch the Perseid meteor shower. We were having a blast in our primo location on a dark baseball field and suddenly around 2:00, two police cars pull up. So we pretend to be asleep whilst the ultra-bright search light passed repeatedly over and around us, ruining our night vision. Now for some reason playing opossum seems to be the obvious response to these situations, and I’m willing to bet it’s because of the natural phenomenon with all police encounters, in which you are automatically guilty no matter what you have or haven’t done. There’s some deep psychological power inside that question: So what’s going on, guys? And then: Do you know that you are trespassing?

-…Sorry…

-You guys are going to have to leave.

-…Ok… The light scans our cluttered area and stops on our boxes of Girl Scout cookies

-Actually, none of you guys are on America’s Most Wanted list or anything, are you?

- I don’t think so…

-Ok, well you don’t seem to be causing any harm. I tell you what, you guys can stay.

Amazing! That encounter has taught me two important lessons: 1. Police can in fact be reasonable, and 2. Always carry a box or two of Girl Scout Cookies.

So a couple of days ago we dropped Casey, Evan, and Devin off at the airport. Gabe left yesterday. I have continued and will continue to work on my bike motor and hope to leave on a solo trip to Portland. If all goes well, this will be my maiden voyage on my new vessel, and I will be able to report to Casey that I am ready to begin our mission.

I haven’t lost sight of the original passion and dedication to the Listen Mission, and I am more ready than ever to make it happen. I hope, hope, hopey McHopelstein that the motor will be the answer to my woes. I guess we will see.

Progress has slowed slightly, as I think I have come down with a stomach bug. Last night I slept 14 hours, more than half of which were spent in a half-awake feverish delusion where I thought my body was an extremely heavy motor and each sleep session was responsible for making some sort of important, yet impossible connection with the exhaust pipe. I am feeling a little better, but still weak and nauseous (wow, how did that word get so many vowels?)

In other news, I am becoming increasingly worried about getting a job in this world. If you’re not an expert in something, it seems like it would be hard to find meaningful and invigorating work. And since I am having trouble finding something I would be willing to become an expert in, I am fretting. And then I look at commercials on the Olympics and I realize how good people are out there at what they do. Somehow a credit card company is able to wrench my heart strings and it’s more than their use of sepia tone and an emotionally charged Olympics story. It offends me and yet awes me at how affected I am. How can I be so impressionable? These marketing teams are unbelievable. They are masters at their art. Somehow they are able to make Michael Phelps’ diet of 10,000 calories per day and his video game addiction seem endearing and hear warming to me. I don’t know. I shouldn’t worry about these things. Right now I need to worry about getting out of these suburbs where people who stand out because of their joviality are dismissed as being “Zoloft-happy.”

I apologize that this post hasn’t been as enjoyable and rich with quotations from philosophers and insights, but I’m finding optimism in short supply. I have made the big leap to do something difficult and off the beaten path and have found myself freeloading at my cousin’s house for a month. How can I justify not getting a job or taking a semester off if I’m not out there figuring thing out, making discoveries and meanings?

I know, I know… it’s a strange way to approach life, living with all these lofty goals and romanticizations, but maybe one day, I will truly learn to find beauty and love wherever I am and in whatever I do. And then I will strum a few chords on my lute and ride off into the sunset on my motor bike, a wise and bearded man.

Did I mention all of the beautiful sunsets we’ve been having?