Route 77

So, I just created this blogger thingy. Mainly because I wanted to comment on my cousin's blogger for her triathlon training. (She's such an inspiration!) The other posts are just brought over from my myspace blog.

OHIO INTERSTATE 77
The point of this entry is to shed some light on my choice of blog title. Ohio Interstate 77 seems to be the only place I can really call home. I practically live on that road. From Southern Ohio to Northern Ohio and back again.... and again... and again. I've lived all over it. Born in Massillon, lived in New Philadelphia (twice), school in Youngstown, Work in Coshocton, Canton=Construction, Shows every weekend in Cleveland, etc...

And I just finished writing a song that mentions driving on that highway (though I didn't mention it's name directly... It's a little difficult to rhyme anything with "seven") It seems that the long hours I spend on that highway are the times I think the most. I have written at least 3 songs while humming to the car engine while on 77. I talk to God, imagine him sitting beside me in the passenger seat to offer his advice. I let my thoughts take the wheel. Often times my blogs are the first things that I write after a long drive on that road.

There are so many memories mapped on this road: All the friends in New Philly, movies in Canton, idling for hours in the snow when driving home from college for Christmas, restaurants where I meet friends at 3am, motels that I wish I could forget, the Akron Bridge, visiting Akron University, volleyball in Tallamage, auditions in Barberton, driving with the windows down with no a/c in the sweltering summer, passing the Lovers Lane exit for the hundredth time thinking "how cliche" yet always toying with the idea of turning off to drive it for the pure enjoyment of saying I was there, passing two Hall of Fames (though, the Rock and Roll was found after getting lost in Cleveland), driving home after my surgery, stopping at Harry London's to get some candy for Mom, counting the Cracker Barrels...

I've moved enough to feel like I have no home. So, Ohio Interstate 77 is probably the closest thing I have to a home. I always feel welcomed when I'm on 77 and each time I pass a familiar road sign, it's like seeing an old friend. And sometimes I long to keep driving past my destination. I don't know how many people out there can relate to being on the road like this.

Sometimes I feel lonely and other times I realize how impractical it is for me to hope for a relationship any deeper than just a friendship. As much as I try too keep up a relationship, my ex taught me that Interstate 77 is far too much distance between. *sigh* I am willing, loyal, and faithful, but I guess a strip of pavement can negate all that.

Also 77 is in reference to something else. Peter once asked Jesus "How many times should we forgive? Seven times?" Jesus replied, "Not seven times, but seven times seven." Sometimes when I drive and I start to dwell too much on all the bad things that have happened in my past and all the things on this road that are associated with hurtful memories, I see the road marker and the number 77 reminds me that this road is also a lesson in forgiveness. Slowly, the bad memories are fading, and the good are winning out.

So, that is the reason behind the title. I can't think of anything more suiting. Destruction, Construction, and Forgiveness will eventually lead me home.

Actually I credit my high school friend Vanessa for getting me started journaling. She was the only person that could see that I bottled everything up inside. She saw that I had no one to talk to and also knew that I wasn't really the type to tell anyone about my problems. She gave me a notebook and I have not stopped writing since. I have joined the revolution and incorporated my journals to online blogs. Though.... I guess it's mainly for my own convenience since I doubt anyone actually reads anything I write.

Still,... writing seems to be an outlet for me. Lyrics, Poems, and Journals in general. It's the way that I sort out the jumble of thoughts in my head. I like reading old war letters or old diaries. It's an interesting perspective into the lives of the past. I mean, history was documented in journals. I kind of hope that someday someone might read my journals and get a rare glimpse into what life was like for me. Sometimes I write about trying to figure out my place in this life, or the emotions inside myself, or where I stand on different issues. Other times it's of overwhelming gratitude for the beauty of life. However, I wish I were more prolific. I'm not really sure if the things that I write are really all that substantial. I tend to think I write more mindless dribble then I'd like.



CLOSING THOUGHT: Did you know that the gas station on the Waterloo exit has a huge electric palm tree? That's probably the greatest thing since living beside the biggest basket in the world!