Escapism- San Diego @ Night

All of our plans were falling through.

We were supposed to hang out. I was off the next day, and she didn't have to work until 10. Everything we tried to plan just wasn't working. In humorous frustration, she texted me:

What if we drove to Cali tonight to play in the ocean and then came back?

It had been a long few weeks, and I'd been wanting to do something completely random for a while. Usually I would want to know all of the details before agreeing to something like this, but not this time. I texted back:

I'm down.

We stopped and got an audiobook by David Sedaris to listen to (not my choice, but funny in a "wow, that's wrong" kind of way) while driving on I-8 headed toward Yuma. There are very few radio stations between Phoenix and Yuma. We were headed to San Diego, on account of Los Angeles having no soul.

It was a beautiful drive once we got past El Centro. It was my first time in California, and winding through the big hills silhouetted against the light of the moonlit sky was a bit thrilling. I needed to get away. We needed to get away.

I think we all need to get away sometimes. Life gets more and more complicated and intricate as we get older, mostly because we suck at life and tend to make it that way. We get caught in a rut, and we need a fresh perspective, and so we go for a walk, or a run, or a ride, or a drive... something to take us away from the mundane, from the same old thing. It's called "Escapism", the wanting to get away from it all, to put distance between yourself and whatever it is that weighs you down.

As we get older, I think we convince ourselves that escaping is impractical. Heck, I didn't think I had that random trip in me anymore. But driving into San Diego under the cover of darkness, putting feet to the ocean and listening to the sheer massive power of it's waves, is cathartic to the soul. Really, the beauty of any new place is usually enough to bring our problems into perspective.

Escapism is healthy, as long as it ends. We were back in Mesa by 730 the next morning, with the same old struggles not looking quite as big as they once did. I had a feeling that everything would be alright. Then I crashed on my girlfriend's family couch.

Here's wishing you a Great Escape, a San Diego of your very own.