here's the part that always gets me

waiting for the drums to kick in

Hiiiiiii

Wrote a lot of this in a pretty angsty mood so brace for melodrama but bear with me please! Trusting you with my cringe………

Yesterday I drove back to the ranch from Denver at sunrise. I left the Galaty’s house around 5- Jenny’d been sitting in the living room in the dark waiting to lock the door back behind me.

I started my route on maps and added a stop for a gas station, choosing a random 7/11 and sticking to that one even as I passed by rows of perfectly good gas stations on my way out of town. I mindlessly followed my map, getting on the interstate then taking the first exit off. As I drove up, I was perplexed that my first thought was something about it being ‘blue collar.’ It’s a term that took me way too long to understand and doesn’t usually come up in my internal monologue. But a Hispanic family walked back to their car with hot breakfast and a young guy in a turban beamed at me from the cash register as I walked in and I felt weirdly satisfied with myself, like I’d chosen an authentic restaurant over a tourist trap on a vacation.

I poured dark roast into a Medium styrofoam cup and put $50 of gas into Jen’s Ram. I started the truck and a light came on for low tire pressure. The drive through the mountains is already intimidating- extra risk factors aren’t necessary or welcome. I pulled up to the air pump and thought it was in use because a man crouched next to it. Then I realized he was using it for shelter, not air. A woman was with him, leaning against the concrete wall behind the pump. They were bleary eyed, he shirtless, and I the asshole drowning them in headlights. I apologized as I climbed down from the truck. They ducked under a fuzzy brown blanket and (I’m pretty sure) shot up as I filled the tire. When I turned the truck back on to drive away, she peeked her head over the blanket, making sure it was still just me.

I’d gone to Denver to see DeVotchka play in the botanic gardens. I was really excited for the solo adventure after being constantly surrounded by people since I’ve been at the ranch, and especially since feeling pretty irritable/ burnt out for the past week or so. The drive there was amazing- sipped a lavender matcha and sang all my favorite songs and kept the windows down and felt bouyed and free. Once I parked at the gardens I nearly pissed myself trying to make it to the nearest watering hole, then drank two gin & tonics at the bar, a middle aged man typing on his computer to my left, a middle aged man in a sweaty tank top glancing between me and ESPN on my right. We were pretty much the only three in there.

I high tailed it back to the gardens and filed in behind an endless stream of picnic toting families. Bitterness crept in without my permission, as it seems to sometimes when there are too many happy white people hanging around. Botanic gardens aren’t blue collar enough for my taste, I guess….

The alcohol made me less self-aware than I probably would have been otherwise, but still, for some reason I felt so uncomfortable being there alone. It was just hard to sit still- I was fighting waves of anxiety without knowing what was making me anxious. A group of 30-somethings sitting to my right grew slowly and slowly, friends trickling in, till I was sequestered to a teeny patch of grass, tucking my feet under me and yanking my skirt down. I silently directed my anger at this injustice at the half-full Whole Foods olive containers and the older women wearing bermuda shorts with tinsel in their hair, feeling fed up and out of place.

Then a pretty girl came up and said “Are you alone? We have space behind us, we saw them box you out. I hate when that happens.” And she gave me an Oreo and my faith was restored and the music was great and everything was okay. Until they played “How it Ends” because I tried to think of one thing, anything, to hold in my mind’s eye as they belted out triumphantly “Yeah you already know how this will end!” and I couldn’t, everything came up question marks, and I spiralled back down.

I played that song in the car on the drive back as an experiment, just to see. To be fair, the lyrics aren’t unambiguously triumphant. And it didn’t induce as much despair the second time… but I still didn’t feel like getting up and dancing.

I don’t really know what made me think of them, but I wound up putting on The Palace Brothers. They’re an admittedly neglected part of my inheritence from Dad- I listened to all of Viva Last Blues for the first ever time on that drive and it seems to fit my current mood a lot better. This might be total bullshit- I know nothing about music- but I think it’s something about it feeling/ sounding less… resolved. I felt so much love for that music because when I looked behind me at the glorious sunrise over the city AND when I looked ahead and saw a mutilated deer carcass’s ear give one last twitch— when I thought about my dad AND when I thought about the couple at the 7/11—each had an appropriate soundtrack in Viva Last Blues. What I’m trying to say is that it seemed able to hold it all.

I had a pretty bad scare coming down the pass through the continental divide. I’d somehow forgotten to eat dinner AND breakfast… probably at least partially a result of me having become Pavlov-dog-trained to eat when the ranch bell rings, and pretty much only then. A mixture of hunger and motion sickness made me super faint and shaky as I guided the truck down the steep switchbacks with the rising sun blocking out almost all my vision. I rolled the windows down and prayed and took one breath at a time. When I finally finally got back to the ranch 5 minutes before work started I had to shed a few tears in Carly’s arms… It will be a hot second before I do any more mountain driving.

I keep trying to convince myself that I’m turning the corner from the angsty, quick to anger, quick to despair state I’ve been in. This week I’ve decided to actually try to turn the corner rather than try to convince myself that I have already. We’ll find out soon if there’s a difference between those two things lol.

July is a hot, slow, repetitive month, which my friends here have warned me about from the beginning. It gets grueling and tense. Among the staff, there’s a West Side Story vibe developing between the homeschooled and the rest, yes I’m serious.

I’m glad I have Noah and I’s trip to look forward to… we’ve been planning and are going to stay in some silly Airbnbs and backpack in the Tetons. I was trying to push for a more intense trail because my most recent hiking memory is tackling 16 miles in a day, but I think he remembers better than me my absolute fragility and lack of resolve when hiking 20 miles over 2 days in the Smokies… So probably wise to go for the shorter loop. Eiher way, I’m counting down the days.

Believe it or not I have also been having some really fun times here since writing last. On the 4th of July we had a hoot cosplaying patriots… we did ‘grand entry’ on the horses which was some synchronized-swimming-esque formations and flag waving and galloping around. We played games- some weirdly sexualized, like ‘orange pass’- in the lawn and chucked turds in the arena and I got thrown in the water trough and we played volleyball and swam and drank and it was all very merry.

Also, Kaitlin, Andrew, Carly, and I went camping in Frisco a few weekends ago. It was super silly because Andrew had gone camping with ‘The Alex’s’ the weekend before, one of whom hiked the whole Appalachian Trail, and he couldn’t help pointing out how different it was to camp with us; ie, how unprepared we were. We set up in the dark after TRUDGING a mile with heavy packs (all beer) to our gorgeous camping spot and made a great big fire. Andrew sliced his hand open trying to carve us a spoon and we drunkenly doctored him, then had a nice brunch the next morning before taking him to the Urgent Care for stitches.

Ella visited yesterday which was just what the doctor ordered. We caught up over weird food truck BBQ and were supposed to meet my friends at the rodeo but wound up at the wrong one, which just meant we got more quality time. We had a good giggle about mutton busting AKA butt musting and eyed the cowboys and cheered on the barrel racers. Went out for Kristina’s birthday at a bar that felt eerily similar to Buffalo Wild Wings except there was a ‘rave room’ in the back with disco lights and a DJ playing too much Kanye West. We went wild on the dance floor… I hadn’t unleashed my moves like that in a while and my coworkers were surprised but willing to commit to the bit and we had a great time. Today they’ve sounded like kids, asking when Ella’s coming back.

Ella and I spent the morning at the lake, sunning on a big rock in the water and talking about so many things that have been on my mind… I feel like, for many reasons, I’ve been anticipating my twenties as a disorienting and aching time and I can’t tell how much of the angst I’ve been feeling is true vs self-fulfilling prophecy, or if that difference makes a difference anyhow. But either way it felt validating to talk about it and to conclude/ agree that it all comes in waves. Lately been getting the sense that it’s best to try not to judge or control too much of it and just take & accept it as it comes.

Thank you for reading and sticking with me. This week I’ll be listening to the new Remi Wolf album and working my way through a box of wine. Text / call me if ya feel like it- chances are I miss you a lot!

Love,

Mary