Tulsa Travels

Posted November 20, 2007 from Tulsa, OK

So, since I don't have a job, and I don't really have family nearby, I decided, what the heck, I'm going to Tulsa. I have family down there. So, I hopped in my car - high-topped roller skate, aerodynamic as a brick - and filled 'er up, and away I went.

Can I afford to take the trip? No, of course not. I won't be paying any more bills this month. At least it'll be a few months before they foreclose on me. And right now, my credit card is current. Thank goodness for that, or I wouldn't have gotten very far at all.

But I digress. Driving through eastern Colorado, about five hours after I originally planned to be on the road, I realized that the bleak landscape had changed for me. Once, I'd considered it desolate and barren. Now, I recognized the special beauty of the eastern plains. Whereas back in Ohio, the beauty would be flora and the occasional fauna, in Colorado, the beauty is mineral. And the occasional fauna. Although I didn't see any this trip, I still can't get over seeing herds of antelope. I know, I know, the song "Home on the Range" specifically mentions antelope, but it's one thing to hear about them, and another entirely to see them running around. Weird.

As I crossed the border into Kansas, I realized something else. Coming from Ohio, it, too, is a bleak, desolate landscape. Coming from Colorado, in November, it has its own beauty. Again, mineral, rather than plant or animal. The way the land jutted up in various places, displaying how, while man may think he's superior, the land will still take its own back. It was magnificent. Then, about 100 miles in, I decided I was wrong, Kansas is still a boring drive. Another 20 miles and I changed back. I'm fickle that way.

By the time I reached the Oklahoma border, it was dark. I'd forgotten about the fact that there's much less daylight this close to the Winter Solstice. How I could forget, I don't know. This time of year is always miserable for me, I so prefer to have sunlight than darkness. I tend to be ruled by the seasons. In summer, I sleep less and do more. In winter, I basically hibernate. Perhaps it was the added bonus of being without a job that distracted me from this particular fact.

I drove through Oklahoma, following my directions, and praying I wouldn't get lost. I was at one point impressed with myself. I'm a city kid. I am perfectly comfortable on the streets of Chicago at 2 in the morning. Take me out to a road with no houses nearby, no city lights, no cars, and basically, no people, and I will panic. Last night, though, as I drove through the vast emptiness that is rural Oklahoma, I realized that there was Orion, big as day, so close I could touch him, and I wasn't nervous. I even got to see a shooting star. That all might have changed if I'd had to get out of the car for whatever reason, but for the longest time, I couldn't even have driven that route. Big improvement.

So now I sit waiting for my cousin to wake up, so I can go back to my aunt's house, where I have my books and clothes and other things to do. I want to go to the grocery store - yes, I know it's insane - and pick up a few things, since we're suddenly eating at her house. Just a couple things to round out the menu. Meanwhile, I can ponder the vagaries of heredity. Before leaving for bars and such, I marveled at the similarities between my aunt and her sister, my mother. I mentioned it to her, and in typical family revenge, she threw back that I reminded her of my mother, too. Inescapable. There were weird moments when I watched her facial expressions and behaviors, and saw my mother looking back at me. It was a good thing.

It's nice to be with family for the holidays. I hope to come back for Christmas. Now, if only my cousin would hurry up and get out of bed. I'm bored.