Coming to you from the sweatshop producing these posts, here it is:

Maine 2010: starring Steven P. 

I set out for Maine with a very pathetic amount of knowledge on hand. In fact, there were only two pieces of information that I had acquired since I had learned I was traveling to the state where many a local will proudly remark that in Maine, there are more trees than people. Secondly, I knew that one of my favorite authors, Mr. Stephen King lived in this fine state. So, that was it. Two pieces of information, a camera, and  a solid-state sound recording device. These were the tools at hand, and I was fully prepared to enjoy myself and escape the life which suburbia fostered. For me, this was the time to cure a multitude of habits acquired from living in modern times,chiefly this overwhelming feeling that without a computer and high speed internet access, life would be a miserable living hell. What I did not know, before embarking on this trip, was that there would also be no cell service—something freakish and scary to me—but I figured I would survive. And thus the trip began.

We ventured onto the roads at 7am, starting from New Jersey,and were set to go all the way to Southern Maine. I tried as best I could to picture the US map in my head, determining what states we would pass through, but I found out that my memory was spotty at best. It was interesting that the trip to Maine went so smoothly,in stark contrast to the trip back to New Jersey, which shall be discussed later on. 

Anyways, the drive there was superb, adding up to about 6 hours, and we arrived much ahead of schedule all ready to enjoy our stay in the state with more trees than people. Our escape from that hum drum existence in suburbia, which was mostly filled with endless hours watching netflix movies, and poking around on the web on sites like , My Life is Bro, and of course the unavoidable cancer, Facebook. I will not deny, I had this very high and mighty notion that I would for once in my life live like Henry David Throreau, or one of the other Transcendentalists, at last connecting with nature, and finding that world which man had been once accustomed to. No one could deny my absolute fab attitude towards the whole trip, and things seemed to be set to start off on the right foot, or described with some other generic idiom. In short, things were well in the mind of Steve, and everything was planned to go absolutely heavenly. Ah, what is it that they say, the best plans are spoiled? Something like that, it’s close enough for this entry…

I have for a long time been one of those lame people who has always had a terrible time trying to fall asleep. This was something that was on my mind, before gearing up for the Maine trip. There was something about the way I worked, or rather my body, that made me come alive at night, and feel super tired most hours of the afternoon. Many a times, I have found myself looking at a nap as a fine solution to my afternoon drowsiness, and many a times I have given in. Of course, I would only find out later in the night that a nap too often leads to sleeping issues later on. The sleep cycle is one of those godly creations that a mortal should not mess around with. Have you ever thought about sleeping while trying to fall asleep? Yes, you guessed it. It is very similar to Chinese water torture. Ah, the agony of not being able to sleep. Thank God for Tylenol PM! 

The sleeping issue was something I could overcome, I figured, without drugs. I’d be so exhausted from the long days of fishing, boating, hiking, etc., that sleep would be the very least of my problems. The real issue, in my mind, was the food situation,being that I am such a picky eater—things would be problematic. After all, when being put up by people not directly related by blood, the least I could do is eat what I was given. Plus, if all else failed, there was always the spit it back into the napkin method. No, this would be no problem at all.

Chicken pot pie, a meal with a meat in the name,a good start I figured, but would I like the pie part? Yes, I would indeed. This was a dish I ended up liking, despite initial hesitation. What an interesting person I am, ha, talking about what I ate(wait, this isn’t twitter is it?). I digress…

During my second day in Maine, I became somewhat situated. I knew that the food situation had been solved, the sleeping was a minor issue, so what was left? Oh, yes the activities. How would I keep myself busy, escaping that abyss which we commonly refer to as boredom, and have fun? This would surely be facilitated by endless fishing, boating, and swimming. No issue. Nature was hard to get tired of, and there was certainly no shortage of nature in this fine locale.It was like a buffet of nature(not sure what that means either). 

My first trip out on the water was a marvelous experience. I felt like one of those people on the National Geographic channel, or the Discovery Channel, who absolutely live for the water, and nature in general. Nature was always present, did not go away in the blink of an eye, and had this feel of life. This was the ideal landscape to think, and the thoughts flowed greatly. I started thinking about things so insanely distant, uncommon, and simply useless that I began to wonder why I did so. The first few minutes of contemplation were upbeat and marvelous, but I soon began to think about a bunch of awful things that messed with my mood. I became somewhat morose, depressed would be an exaggeration, but nonetheless not in my usual mood. It was strange to me how happy memories from years passed could bring me so much downbeat thoughts. I had this sudden urge that I needed to see my friends, needed to be back in my crappy little town, and back at work with my computer.

The concept of “working” was something that I had been obsessed with since I was very young. I had always wanted to constantly be “at work”. Projects were and absolute must, there should never be a single moment when I was not creating something. Life, to me at least, was very boring without a routine and constant work. Early on I promised myself that once I found a job, doing something I love, I’d pursue the profession until the day I expired. Retirement to me was this gigantic, hot and humid waiting room where the elderly went to die. It seemed extraordinarily silly to wait for such a miserable day, and I thought that it would be better for it to come as a surprise. The inevitable would creep up on you sooner or later, so why sit and wait around for it?

I did promise the reader that I would return to something I mentioned earlier. It was about the trip back, and it’s prolonged nature. As mentioned above, the trip heading towards the great state was flawless ; however, our luck was not as good heading back. I suppose Murphy’s Law caught up, and all that could go wrong most certainly did. First it was traffic in Hartford, and then a wrong turn, followed by a wonderful 15-20 min train on the track excursion. I’d like to talk about this specifically, as it was bizarre and supremely idiotic. A  freight train had been parked on the train tracks, in the middle of the road, naturally causing a large backup of traffic. The usual scenario would be that this train would pass through this area in a timely fashion, but such expediency did not seem to be on thus conductor’s agenda. No, not at all. He seemed to decide that a series of backing up, stopping, and then moving foreword would be a sufficient way to piss off the idling motorists. He succeeded. 

With all things considered, the trip to Maine was a necessary experience. Knowledge was acquired, and in my mind that is what really matters. Certainly, there were aspects that I did not care for, but the fact that my good friend offered to bring me along in the first place was enough to ease these thoughts. I can, in fact, say that I have been to Maine, and now know a few interesting tales about the state, and the people who call it home. I’m eager to see what is next on the agenda.

—Steven P. Rodriguez