Oregon Trail via Trans Am

  When I woke up there was 1 new envelope on my phone, indicating a new message. It read:

                               "Meet me by the cobbled path around four"

   She meant the cobbled path that starts on campus then meanders through the park, around the lake, into the woods, then back again. Its quite scenic, especially for people-watching what with all the people out walking and biking. I got to the beginning of the path early, which meant waiting. If I can be honest here, waiting idly has to be one of my least favorite things. I'm not one of those people who bring little activities like Sudoku or Jacks or a Rubiks Cube for these moments. Plus I start thinking about how awkward and or creepy a guy standing or pacing by himself in a random place must be. I think how I could be taken for a killer planning his next mark by scouting for coeds. Do I look like that type? Lord no. But that doesn't stop stray thoughts.

     In actuality I probably look like any old shmoe waiting for a friend in the park. I try to hold onto that image and cast out the idiotic thoughts by kneeling down and fidgeting with my shoe laces. First untying and meticulously retying the right shoe, then the left. I repeat this process for a bit, trying to ignore the thought that no one over the age of six would have this much trouble with their laces.

   I looked up to see she was standing right above me. I was a little startled, but by now I should have been used to her stealth. She could walk anywhere soundlessly, even in heels. As if her feet didn't quite touch the ground. Maybe she had been a ninja in a past life. We hugged each other and to a passerby it probably looked like two friends reconnecting after years, really we had seen each other last night at O'Smokey's playing pool. This was just how we said hello.

   Soon enough we were walking and talking along the path. Though that makes it sound like an entirely shared endeavor. We were both walking, yes, but she was doing the majority of the talking. Which was fine, I didn't mind listening. She said how you'd think we'd have gotten sick of this path after walking along it so many times. But we didn't. Each season brought something different: the leaves turning beautiful oranges and reds with bicyclists zipping by in the Fall, In the Winter the lake would freeze over enough for ice skaters and along the path professors would puff by on cross country skis, Spring meant budding flowers and countless people laying out on beach towels, hoping to get tan.

  No it wasn't the path she was sick of, and it wasn't me, nevertheless there was something eating away at her. A sort of quiet worry or frustration. She said she was feeling hemmed in and it got worse every time she went home. It was like claustrophobia, she said, like the walls were closing in. As if her old room had been replaced with an industrial-sized trash compactor in her absence. More than anything else, it was an overall consuming feeling of dread.

   She said this feeling had followed her back here to school. She'd considered this crushing feeling inside and out. Her diagnosis was that she was trapped in one certain path to the future. If she kept going it would lead to graduation, then a respectable job, then a family, a mortgage, a 401k, mini-vans, on and on. When she came to this realization of her impending finality, she made a decision. Instead of riding along this preordained road to the future, she was going to surprise it. Hit the future with a sneak attack.

  I asked her if that meant she was dropping out, if this was goodbye. She shook her head. No, that would be too predictable. Her plans were far too grandiose to be predictable and yet they were so simple! I rolled my eyes. Then she began to tell me the real plan. She'd finish up the semester and walk at graduation. There were a few high profile internships she'd applied to and talked up to her parents. This was a cover, she had no intention of finding out a career just yet. The thought of finding one just made the impending feeling of dread stronger.

  She had an uncle out in Montana. He had gotten wealthy after a few very well placed investments on Wall St. He retired early and started a ranch, thinking it might be fun to be a new-age cow boy. There was speculation that his investments had come from illegal insider trading. But that was just speculation.

   He had told his niece that he could always use a few more cattle hands if she wanted to come out and work for awhile. She told me she thought it'd be a grand adventure. Or at least a it might be a good way to get away, surely one couldn't feel nearly as hemmed in out in Montana. If I wanted to come she said her uncle wouldn't be opposed to more help. I told her I'd consider it.

  I asked her how she was planning on getting out there. Her eyes lit up, she exclaimed that was the part she was most excited for. She asked me if I remembered the old Oregon Trail game we used to play back when we were kids. I nodded. After graduation her plan was to take her trusty Trans Am out and follow the real Oregon Trail out there. I objected that it led to Oregon, not Montana; this much was clear from the title. She waved her hands in the air, vaguely brushing away my objection. She said we have modern roads now! Surely it wouldn't be too difficult to make a few adjustments.

Ride the Fear

You can't
be so afraid
of those parking lots

Its where
the ice grows thickest
and the ghouls hide
but they're
not there for you

You can't
be so afraid
when it hits you,
ride that fear
like a wild stallion
out on the plains

If you
let the fear take hold
that's when they'll
get you

But its not
you they seek,
no,
they're not here
for you

Half Life of Places

   He stepped into the kitchen, bare feet on cold tiled floor. With methodical precision he removed the teakettle from the stove, dumped the stale water, refilling the kettle with fresh water from the tap. Setting the kettle back upon the quickly heating gas stove-top, he called into the next room, "Arthur! Where do you keep your tea bags, it always seems to slip my mind..."

  "Upper right cabinet  above the sink. I'll take Earl Grey.", called back Arthur's voice, disembodied, floating through the flat, away from its owner secure in his easy chair.

  In the kitchen Thom set two tea bags into mugs on the counter, then padded back to the living room to wait for the kettle's keening whistle. "Arthur, would you move somewhere else? Let's say a different flat in a different town."

   "Good heavens, no. I simply couldn't. How could I leave home? I can't even walk out that door on an average day to get a dozen eggs, let alone the abject terror and anxiety that would be compounded by moving even further away. A whole other town? I simply couldn't."

  Thom pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep, exaggerated breath. Sometimes having a conversation with Arthur was a trial in itself. "Okay, how 'bout we start small: when was the last time you went out that door?"

  In his armchair Arthur hummed at the thought. "I'd have to say its been at least two and a half years at this point. Mind you the only reason I left that particular day was that there was a different mail courier. Not knowing the routine I had set with William, he set my mail out by the street in the box instead of the door. I couldn't stand the thought of leaving the mail out there when it might rain later, or mail thieves might come by! So I made a dash for it. I was lucky, nothing happened and the mail was retrieved without incident."

  FSSSSSHHHHHHHHHH!!! the tea-kettle cried from the other room. Thom relieved the boiling water from the heat and poured two cups, then took the cups back into the living room. "Can we do a bit of a thought experiment then? Just for a moment? In this hypothetical scenario there would be a way to transfer you to a completely different flat, perhaps on the otherside of the city, or perhaps countries away, without having to go outside. A form of teleportation maybe. Would you give it a shot then?"

  Arthur took a sip of his tea, finding it to still be scalding. He replaced the cup on the table and considered the question. "I...I guess I would in that case, sure. The risk seems fairly low, but why do you ask?"

  "Its just that lately I've been thinking. When you first move somewhere that place is almost completely new to you. So you meet people, discover the many different organizations the town has to offer, and you take walks, exploring every nook and cranny there is to see. But then over time, and this is what I"ve really been caught on, over a series of weeks or months or years, do you gradually suck all the mystery out of that place through experience? Eventually every sidewalk and trail have been walked down, each organization has been joined and numerous friends and acquaintances are met and fade away". He paused, sipping tea and thinking, "I guess what I'm trying to say is once the mystery is gone out of the place, is it time to move on?"

   Thom had given Arthur much more than Arthur had expected with his answer, so for a moment they both sat in silence with their hot beverages in hand. "I think you may have a point there. Once you've exhausted all the mysteries, avenues, and possibilities in a place the answer then is to move on. I think that answer is true, but I also think it is two-fold."

    "How so?", Thom asked obligingly

 "Take me for instance. I've lived here in this flat for over 15 years now.", Arthur gestured to the surrounding rooms. "When you first moved here your domain to explore extended not only through your whole house, but also the entire town and the surrounding area outside of that. My domain on the other hand has always just been this flat, granted my neuroses were less severe when I first moved in. Over 15 years of course I've exhausted all the mysteries there can be in a place this big. But I stayed here nonetheless."

   "Well, yes, though didn't you just stay because of your agoraphobia?"

"Partially yes. The other factor is that over time the wheel comes back around. The loop restarts itself. Even when you've seen everything there is to see, eventually new things appear, or you see things in a new light. For instance I've had these mugs for most of the past decade and it wasn't until yesterday I noticed that there are a series of owls flying between the jumping fish. Never once did I notice the owls, and now they're plain as day. Or on a bigger scale, I didn't know you until you moved in two doors down. Now we have tea a few times a week and that's different and wonderful."

  "So then the only two answers are jump off the wheel and find a new one or stay and wait for it to turn around again?"

  Arthur laughed, "That about sums it up, but no I don't think its just the two, there's always another answer to a question floating out there somewhere. And I believe all the loops - all the places and possibilities rather - are connected somehow."

   "I think I'm okay with it all when you put it like that.", Thom said, scratching his head thoughtfully.

        "Good, will you get us another cuppa then?"