Driving Alone

"The first time ever I saw your face..." I know I heard that while I was driving, and I believe it was nighttime. We lived in a town about 20 miles from San Antonio, so San Antonio was where I drove frequently. I went to UTSA. I think that's when it started.

"I thought the sun rose in your eyes..." Driving the familiar road to school – a place I was supposed to go – on days that I didn't work, my mind began to move around inside its shell. I should probably have gone to a different school, studied something more practical, not worked as much, but I didn't have a lot of guidance or role models. A frustrated father who pretty much hated everybody and couldn't work for anybody – that was my role model. I knew I wanted Not That. Not an incredibly specific site to be aiming at.

I had discovered myself at work – at a grocery store. Small town grocery stores in the 80's and 90's were their own kind of social club. People leaving work would stand at their trucks or cars talking, and in about 15 minutes there would be a crowd of people around that truck. The tailgate would be pulled down and people sitting on it. Tailgating. I hadn't had much of a social life in school, so this was where I learned to interact with people. I had my first experience with friends, with approval, with infatuation, with knowing what it was to be a gay man in a straight world. I'm not sure which was the most powerful. The approval seems to have been the more damaging because it held me back – made me feel safe rather than feeling like I wanted to grow, to learn.

"And the moon and the stars were the gifts you gave, to the dark and the endless skies..." As I drove, either to school, back home, to go out to clubs or just to drive around for hours because I could, my mind would wander around, thinking about this man or that, thinking about work, thinking about my family or just thinking about what would happen if I took the next exit to whatever city was on the road-sign, if I took that exit and drove. What if I just drove there, to that city, and never looked back? Thinking about it made the immense weight on my chest flutter a little bit at the edges. On those times that I drove into the night, which I did regularly and without any direction, I could get a glimpse of what it would feel like to be free. Free from the worry, the guilt, the hurt and all of those things that had weighed on my soul for as long as I could remember. The sign above the road indicating a distant city and the next exit, that sign meant possibility, a new life, a dream that was always just out of my reach. But, it was, in its own unclear, undefined way, hope.

How to De-Stress, or How Not to

8/11/2016

There is something self-destructive about trying to de-stress – like a self-fulfilling prophesy, but backwards. Sometimes any steps I take to relax after a stressful week only lead to more stress, or simply time lost in the attempt. I'm certain that there are 123,623,326,098 books written on the topic, but sometimes one just wants to get away. Reading suggestions on how to focus, or let go, or any of the other things that my soul wants to do is not quite as appealing as getting in my car and just going. In this way I relate to Rose from The Patron Saint of Liars, Ann Patchett's debut novel. There is something freeing about getting in the car and driving, with no particular place to go. When I was younger, I used to see the signs over the highway indicating a distant city that the highway led to, and I would want to just leave, just stay on the highway and continue to that other city. Not go back home to get anything; that would break the spell. Just go.

Half a lifetime of going, and it's not quite as appealing as it used to be. The idea of escape is still there; it's just dressed in a different disguise these days. I tried drink; I was never very good at it. Intoxication never offered the freedom of driving on a highway with its untapped possibilities. All of it is an illusion one way or the other, but driving didn't generally lead to hangovers or regretful memories of how I had behaved.

This last Saturday I asked my partner if he wanted to go with me on a project. For some reason (mostly anemia, I have come to suspect) I had had a very stressful and anxiety-ridden week. I've had a project in mind that I wanted to work on, a photography project. I want to take pictures of Austin landmarks. Not buildings, but street art. The "HI HOW ARE YOU" frog, the "I love you so much" wall. I started last December with a painted privacy fence only to discover that the camera had no memory chip in it, which is the equivalent of having no film. So, I thought it was time to try again.

The painted privacy fence I pass on the way to work each day

About the only thing I took a picture of this sunny day

However, we took off at 11 on a bright, sunny morning and this is not conducive to good outdoor photography, unless harsh shadows and overexposed highlights is what you're after. I was driving and I was frustrated. I was angry at myself for not taking off earlier; I was angry at my partner for delaying when I had asked him if he wanted to go; I was just angry and tired and stressed. I abandoned the project, but between the two of us we couldn't think of anything else to do that was fun, so we went home to take a nap.

The next day we had brunch at a local cafe and on the way home he missed the turn to go to our house, so he just kept going. The road got less smooth and more narrow. Eventually, we saw a sign indicating that state maintenance ended and sure enough the road changed from paved to semi-gravel all at once. Eventually we came up to the highway that leads to Lexington, but we turned off, deciding to save that for another day. We had other commitments that day and didn't have the time to spend just exploring a new town. So, we found another road that seemed to want to swing back around to Elgin and took it instead. After a couple of turns we ended up in Coupland, which is on the way back home from Dallas.

View from a random highway on the way back home from an extended wrong turn

I learned from that trip that maybe projects aren't what I need when I desperately need to de-stress. I learned that it can be better if somebody else is driving. I learned that there is an art to letting go, and it's all about timing. Finally, I learned anew that being in the car is relaxing and the anticipation of a new place can be a solace for the soul.

Happy driving. :-)