18:39 - May 10, 2003
EPD
When we drove up my street yesterday morning, the first thing I saw was my Geo Tracker, parked in its usual position that only my car could possibly fit into, but with a huge 'EPD' scrawled across the back window in orange paint. Assuming the 'EPD' stood for 'Evanston Police Department', I stopped as I got out of Matt's car, wondering idly what my dad had done to piss off the police THIS time. I don't write about it here much, but my dad has it fucking OUT for the cops in this town. He's almost had his drivers' license confiscated a number of times, a million court dates, etc....

So I asked him, and so the story goes...
He was at the office, and he rang up home to check his messages, and on the machine was a message from EPD that his car was parked in a tow-away zone and would be towed if he didn't move it by 9 A.M. It was 11 at the time of the message, so that was that. When he got home, he called EPD to ask where his car was, but they said to call the city, so he called the city and they said his car was in a lot on Foster and that it wouldn't be in its 'permanent location' until that night. So, being my dad, he decided the best thing to do would be to steal his car back from the lot on Foster before they towed it to North Shore Towing. So he drives over there in his BMW, parks it in the same lot as all the towed cars, gets in the Geo (my car; the towed one) and starts driving away. The tow truck driver shouts at him: 'HEY! you can't do that!' but my dad just leans out the window and says, 'is this YOUR car? is it? no, I didn't think so!' and roars away.

So who can guess what he did wrong?

As he's driving away, all smug, he looks in his rearview mirror and the tow truck is backing up to his BMW, all ready to hook up to it. (Of course.) He screeches a U-turn in the middle of the road, burns rubber all the way back to the lot, and slides in between his BMW and the two truck right before they hook up. As he gets out of the Geo and Back in the BMW, defeated, the tow truck guy is already on the phone, calling to my dad, 'The police are on their way.'
'Don't bother,' my dad says, 'I won't be here.' And he starts up the BMW and drives away all dejected, kicking himself for being so fucking stupid.

When he gets to North Shore Towing that night to get his car back (legitimately this time) he fins it alone behind a locked gate with a Denver boot on it.

23:51 - May 09, 2003
wanting to turn around
It stormed and sent sheets of rain slamming into the windshield and lightning streaking over our heads, on and off, but mostly on, for fifteen hours. I was lucky to drive mostly during the calmer periods. At its worst Matt could only see about two feet in front of him and to either side. His face, lit up briefly in lightning, was set in a permanent scowl. His fingers shook on the wheel. Later, while I was driving, he fell asleep despite Faith No More and his fists curled convulsively on the leather seats. I looked at him and imagined what I would have thought had I seen this scene a year ago. I do that a lot, think of what a past me would think of a current me and how she would react, or given just a certain scene, what she would think. The scene: an angelic sleeping boy with messy golden hair curled up on the seat next to me, car stuffed with boxes, floor littered with CD cases. I probably would have thought we were eloping. As it was, I was just driving home from college with a friend from a few floors up who just happens to drive through Chicago on his way home to Michigan. Not that strange. Not that strange other than I wouldn't have expected myself to be social enough to arrange for a ride home with anyone other than my parents. We fell asleep outside an Arby's at 3 AM after he suddenly pulled off onto an exit after a particularly long stretch of rainy highway driving, saying 'I can't do this anymore,' and parking in the back lot and curling up with a pillow against the door.

Before yesterday, I hadn't seen a real storm since I left Chicago. Boulder weather is eerily cheerful and mild. Right now, outside the upstairs window from where I'm typing this, lightning is streaking by every three seconds and thunder is shaking the house. I'm starting to remember what summers are like here. And in Nebraska we saw a tornado begin to form. Reminds me that not everyone's safe in the sheltering arms of the mountains.

Also, decadence. I got home at 7 am and slept from 8am to 7pm, and then my dad, my cousin, his girlfriend and I all went to a steakhouse and ordered a dinner that ended up costing 178 dollars, used 15 dollar valet parking, and through all this nobody but me blinked an eye. When she brought the wine I thought of Lara's sunlight streaming through burgundy wish. The can discuss the merits of the different wines on the wine list all day long, but I bet they never thought about how the sun would look streaming through any of it.

It's warm at night here. The sun can go down and the air can still hang there, hot, humid. I'm finding it laborious to breathe in this much moisture. All the way down I-80 we were were slowly declining in altitude and each foot that dropped away, another portion of a mile, another stretch of road... I kept wanting to turn around.

22:37 - May 07, 2003
three months, man
Packing up the computer now, so... this is the last Boulder entry. I lied. about not going back tonight. My room is empty except for this computer and boxes, and I could only stare at the wall for a half hour or so, and study maybe half that long.

Andrew: 'It's weird that it just feels normal when you're saying goodbye. It's like.. 'bye, Aaron' or whoever, but then they leave and later you're sitting here without them. For three months, man.'

23:40 - May 06, 2003
bad nomad
I just feel really drained today.
Saying goodbye to Nick was one of the hardest things I can remember doing, in awhile at least. And then right after that it's straight into saying goodbye to everyone else; not much easier. I tried going to Andrew's to party one last night but I wasn't in the mood at all, and everything everyone said just seemed insipid and dumb (it wasn't, I know, now that I think back, but so it seemed). It kind of feels like every time I have to leave people for a good period of time I begin to pull away before I really leave. I don't want to get into everything because ending something on that good a note would just make me miss everyone more. Or possibly it's just a bad mood. I don't know.

I ended on a great note with Nick, at least, and that's why it's so hard. I can't deal with taking a day hike up into Gregory Canyon with him and his dad and spending sunset sitting on high rocks looking over Boulder and watching climbers, and telling hilarious stories over wonderful Thai food and having it be the last day. When we get back to the dorms I find myself speechless. I know I have to study and I know I have to go to Andrew's, and I know I'm not going to wake up at eight in the morning to see him go. Quite surprisingly, he's the one who gives me a hug. But I'm the one who has so much trouble letting go.

And when I leave Andrew's because I can't deal with it over there, they insist that I come back tomorrow, but really, I know I won't be back. 'This isn't goodbye,' Andrew says sternly, 'because you're coming back tomorrow and I'm going to see you then.' I don't know what to say to him so I accept his hug, hitting my head on the bottom of the fort ceiling. I don't know what to say to Lara either. We've spent the whole semester together. Nearly every day. I won't see her or anyone for three months, so what the fuck? We're living together next year, but that's still ages away. I can't have any appropriate last words for any of them. It's so much easier to be detached and just leave. And go home, and forget.

I would never be a good nomad because I would be leaving people all the time and I would cry about it forever.

21:59 - May 04, 2003
none of it will be here in a week
damn, have I been living in excess lately.

I haven't thought too hard about going home (probably related to all the excess - I'm not letting myself smoke for awhile) until tonight, when I had put most of my stuff into boxes and Nick had helped me carry (actually just carried) my keyboard out to the car, and we went back to his room, and everything was stripped bare; the poster of Frank Zappa sitting on the toilet even, which was his room's staple if I ever saw one. And the 'no buttriding' poster, and the avocado plants. It was all boxes and bare walls. I looked at him in his knit hat and flying hands and my stomach coiled tight, my throat cinched up.

Yesterday (was it only yesterday?) I lay in the tall grass under a tree and listened to Andrew, sporting my rainbow hat, playing guitar, and singing tunelessly, and heard Chell shiver from the wind next to me, and Camille's pen scratching out designs on Lara's foot. We were looking at pictures later, giddy. 'There's my foot and there's Andrew, and there's the mountain,' Lara exclaimed. 'That's everything.'
everything indeed. everything in the sense that none of it will be here in a week.

18:14 - May 02, 2003
any easier
Every diary entry I've started to write I've wanted to start with 'maaaaan' as in 'maaaaan, I can't believe what good sushi I ate last night,' or 'maaaaan, my head just feels like it's a big bubble'. But that would be too stonerish for even my tastes, so I haven't hit 'submit' for any of them. Oops, one.

I go home in less than a week now, and I don't wanna. Well, I do wanna; actually I really really wanna, but at the same time I can't stand the thought. I've grown to truly love Boulder, and everyone in it. I also haven't missed the parental supervision (not that my parents do much of THAT, but they're still an unwelcome presence: 'WHY would you WANT to smoke a BLUNT at ELEVEN in the MORNING?' 'what POSSIBLE reason could you HAVE for wanting to DRIVE around AIMLESSLY packed in a car with a bunch of PEOPLE?' 'what do you MEAN you want to build a FORT out of my COUCH?') Everything's completely understandable, but really, what has smoking a blunt at eleven in the morning or driving aimlessly or building forts done to change my personality for the worse? Nothing, that's what. If anything, I need more spontaneity in my life; it's exhilarating and it helps chip away at this anxiety block in my stomach that has only been expanding for years. Now it's starting to wear down, because I decided to do things I never would have thought of doing, like climbing steep dangerous rock faces and dancing in public wearing a mask of Pac-man. When I get home, I plan to skinny-dip in Lake Michigan with my friends whenever they're willing, and go to Canada sporadically for no reason, and ride my unicycle that I haven't touched since junior high school.

I stop Lara in my head whenever she says it's getting close to time to leave or that she's going to miss everyone because I just don't want to think about it. Wherever I am, I'm missing someone. It probably builds character, but that doesn't mean it makes it any easier.

02:03 - May 01, 2003
- - -
It was a white tree sky tonight. I don't think anything happened, but it feels like everything did.

19:05 - April 29, 2003
12 hour long summer
I went to the packaging store today to pick up some boxes. I took the bus there (the Bound, Erik, in case you're curious which frighteningly named bus it was) and so once I had picked out my boxes I wanted to know if there was some way they could tie them up to make it easier for me to carry. When I asked, the cashier looked amazed that I had taken the bus. 'How were you planning on carrying them?' she asked, shocked. 'What do you MEAN you don't have a car? Where do you live?'
Then she said if she were going off work then, she would have driven me herself. As it was, she ran around the store asking other people if they would use their time off to drive me home. I was a little taken aback and a lot grateful. In Chicago they would have kicked me out the door with maybe a couple of feet of twine. She came back with some gift ribbon and sat down on the floor attempting to tie together my boxes for ten minutes, with no success because they were PACKING boxes, and then the manager came out with.. well, it looked like Saran Wrap in a tube, but it worked. He used his entire tube of Saran Wrap to wrap up my boxes securely. 'Good luck,' they yelled and watched concernedly as I lifted them out the door. Boulder people are too nice for their own good.

I had a dream (really vivid and really long; I slept for twelve hours) that it was summer in Chicago, but all my Boulder friends were there too. My dad had built me a lakeside fort. I guess it wasn't really Chicago because there were cliffs leading down to the beach and Lake Michigan was warm, but under one of the cliffs he had carpeted the sand and scooped out the sandcrabs. The only water that filtered in filtered right into a little pool at the side. You could open the door right out into underwater. It was definitely THE summer hangout that twelve-hour long summer.

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