Author: Fuzzygalore

Rider, adventurer, traveler, weirdo, lover of love, and all around curious person. Trying to squeeze the fun-juice out of each and every day.
I’ve Lost My Voice and I’m Out of Sorts

I’ve Lost My Voice and I’m Out of Sorts

It has been difficult to rediscover my writing voice. I don’t know where it went. It must be buried beneath the sticky cobwebs in the far recesses of my brain. Instead what I’m left with is an uncomfortable fragment of it’s former self that feels stilted, incomplete and unnatural.

The things I’ve been posting don’t feel like me when I write them and it leaves me wondering if anyone else can tell. What I’ve been putting up has been more like a followed blueprint. The posts seem forced and feel false because I cannot seem to hang on to any depth with my thoughts. Or maybe I don’t have any worthwhile thoughts anymore. Is that possible? Can parts of your brain just die off from inactivity?

A week or so ago, it made me laugh when a friend told me that he wouldn’t have known there was anything different about me when we recently saw each other. On one hand, it’s great that to some people it doesn’t seem like there’s anything wrong – that I don’t “look crazy.” But on the other, there are days when I feel like I’m just dying inside and no one can hear me, see it or maybe they just don’t believe me.

Recently it feels like I’m doing an emotional backslide. Last week I had a few days where I went bananas with anxiety again. It’s been a while since that has happened and that is discouraging. I’m back in the place where I just know I’m never going to get better. It’s been such a long time now that I’ve felt so shitty. This is it for me and quite frankly, I don’t want it. I’m tired.

The Old Underwood & Petty Service Station – Strawberry Plains, Tennessee

The Old Underwood & Petty Service Station – Strawberry Plains, Tennessee

One of the stars on my Google Map that was close to where I stayed one night in Tennessee, was the old Underwood & Petty service station in Strawberry Plains. I’m not sure where I first saw a picture of the old station. It may have been something in my Instagram feed. Shunpikers, roadtrippers and backroad ramblers are great sources for this sort of thing. But I suppose the where I saw it is immaterial when the why I saved it is obvious.

But there is the other why. Why would I ride with a purpose to lay eyes on a crumbling old facade? I can’t buy it, fix it, save it. I can’t stop time. What is the purpose of going to see it or any of the other ghost stations I might visit?

That I do not know.

What is it that I’m hoping to see when I peer through their old windows? Some type of magic or a secret; treasure, maybe?

The decrepit old pump standing sentry. It’s pump handle in everlasting salute.

Underwood & Petty

I see you, old girl. You’re still beautiful to me.

On Google Maps

Love is Just ‘Round the Corner from Hope in Culpeper, Virginia

Love is Just ‘Round the Corner from Hope in Culpeper, Virginia

When I rolled into Culpeper, Virginia I was charmed by the small town America vibe. At the heart of things is a lovely main street lined with well-manicured restaurants and shops.

What pulled me to Culpeper was my worst addiction, the drug I crave most: Love. But before I could even get to the love, something else beckoned.

I’d come looking for love but found something else I needed first. It was only once I’d found hope, that love was just ’round the corner.

Thoughts on the Roadtrip Hangover

Thoughts on the Roadtrip Hangover

There is often a strange sort of hangover that happens to me when I return from a roadtrip. The adjustment seems to take longer for the return than it does for the leaving.

While traveling, my senses are bombarded all day long. Every hour of daylight is filled with wind and noise and wonder and visual stimulus.

While I’m on the go, maybe I don’t feel what you would call tired. But, when I stop for the night I often don’t bother turning on the TV in my hotel room. I just kind of veg out, read blogs and news and whatnot, maybe write a little something. It’s like I have to meter my additional input for the day. Because I actually am tired.

Upon returning home I feel an acute awareness that I’m not taking in as much information as I had been in the days prior. There is a period of time where that’s good and I just relax – but that then turns into something like a withdrawal as the mundane activities of life return.

Traveling for me is an escape. Probably from myself. And I suppose the high that it gives is addictive.

I typed out this post standing in a gas station parking lot here on Long Island. Even though I’m home now, I guess I’m not quite at home yet.

Left Gloves and Phone Blogging

Left Gloves and Phone Blogging

Over the past week and a half, I’ve posted to my blog using my phone exclusively. I wasnt sure how it would turn out because of the weird expectations and rules that I’ve long since established for myself. My blog has been mostly longer form posting or thoughts that I might start and come back to and finish later. I didn’t think the phone would be good for that.

But as it turns out, the phone is better at other things. I can sit down and just whip out a post like this one in a few minutes and be on my way. While the thoughts might not be deep or even concise, the process offers something else of value: immediacy.

I didn’t expect that to be of use. But, it makes sense when you think about the use of Instagram or platforms like that. I’ve got a picture to share, a few words and BAM! Donesky. There is satisfaction in that.

While I likely won’t abandon my MacBook entirely, I can see posting through the WordPress app as something I’ll continue. My hope is that short form, chit-chat-like posts aren’t a letdown. I think it’s time for me to evolve.

Oh. And speaking of chit-chat ~ do most rightys put their left glove on first and vice versa?

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