Hello! 

Thanks for visiting my website. I'm focusing on the blog now, while Allison and I gear up for our trip to Asia later this year. My published writing is also archived here, as well as travel photography from previous trips I've taken. 

Pedestrians prohibited

Pedestrians prohibited

There are a lot of signs that seem to exist only to encourage the exact things they're supposed to prevent. Until I noticed the "Pedestrians and bicycles prohibited" sign at the entrance to 490-West near my house, I had never thought about sprinting down an on-ramp in my sneakers and track pants, "merging" behind a truck, and galloping alongside the cars. But seeing that as a pedestrian I was "prohibited" from doing so made me want to try. I've been going to the gym regularly all month—maybe I could do it. 

I'm still proud the time I stole a "Not responsible for personal property" sign from a coatroom in high school. At 17 the irony was just too much for me to pass up. Is that the same thing as wanting to run down a highway amongst the cars because a sign tells you not to? I'm not sure. Anyway, I know that in the past whenever I ever saw someone walking down the side of a highway, I always thought, "What happened to that poor bastard's car?" not "Why didn't that idiot read the sign at the on-ramp? No pedestrians allowed!" Now I know better. He's just another bold soul, a rule-breaker like me. 

But also, speed is relative. Allison and I saw Mad Max: Fury Road at the dollar theater in Henrietta last night (literally a dollar per ticket on Tuesdays, a whopping two dollars per ticket otherwise), and on the drive home I realized that after watching high-speed car chases for two hours straight, I no longer had a good sense of how fast I was actually going. There was almost no traffic on the road, and in my adrenaline-enhanced state, 40 mph felt like 80. I was suffering from movie-induced "velocitization," Allison pointed out, like when you spend six hours driving on an expressway and afterward anything under 50 feels like a crawl. Except that now it was happening in reverse. I hit the brakes WAY WAY too early for a red light, and Allison had a good laugh as I decelerated from 35 to about 5 mph with hundreds of feet to spare. "It feels like I'm flying," I insisted. At the next intersection, I overcompensated and tried to accelerate through a yellow light, to Allison's horror this time, because once again I was too far away and probably wouldn't have made it.

In the future, I will have to remember Jolene is not a War Rig! 

Jolene.

Jolene.

War Rig.

War Rig.

Nothing but gray skies

Nothing but gray skies

Quick thaw

Quick thaw