(82) Outdoors

Some asshole decided to soak gummy bears in wine and then shat all over everyone’s soul by calling them ‘wine infused gummy bears’. This is where we live, ok. This is it. Fucking wine infused gummy bears. You can’t drink a fucking glass of wine like an adulting human? No? You have to have sugary wine flavored chewy rabbit shit pellets because fuck sanity along with any sort of potential left on this earth? Fuck. I can’t even address the sadness in that snack item’s bare existence, much less deal with it in any authentic way.

So let’s pretend that didn’t happen, shall we? Right.

***

When I get into a rhythm out here, I will snap pics of a sunset and a thunderstorm. The weather and scenery out here is…other. I’ve seen some natural beauty out there, and this is still isolated and special. I’ve always been a huge fan of the outdoors ahem from behind a glass window or wrapped in protection (from the outdoors). I hate eating outside because bugs and heat and wind and UGH just let me fucking eat. Picnics are gross. The beach is magical, but mostly whilst in the actual water or in memory only; the glorious-from-far-away sand is an up close hot mess of nothing being sacred, including the wines (AUGH wine infused shhhhhh don’t remember shhh). On long road trips, I’ll gaze out of the window, wistfully yearning to be a part of the rolling hills and endless fields and dark reaching trees. Once, my dad pulled over to let us try walking about those fields, and I promptly realized bugs are real and large and they don’t give a shit about your fee fees, and also grass isn’t silky soft and it very likewise does not give a shit about your fragile skin or allergies. Nope. Deal or gtfo.

It took me many years and much successful adulting to love hiking. I’m still not ok with bugs, and scratchy grass mocks me every damn day with its unabashed betrayal.

Here, though. Those fields are everywhere and the roads are negligible even in their glaring unbroken lengths and you can’t miss the sky in any solitary glance. The outside is everything. Summer is forgiving and fluid; it’s not a permanent shitslide of punishment like the Deathcrack. It’s cool and dry. Breathing isn’t a joke made of phlegm and albuterol. I woke up this morning and prepared for a mediocre day, what with tummy ish and work ish and general blood sugar ish. And then the day slid by, easy like the summer land, and forgiving like the ever present sky.

Wish me luck, y’all. I’m going to try a glass of wine (GLASS, dammit. Wine infused gummy fucking UGH) and see if maybe this haven also gentles my sober internal upset.