O.H.I.O. (Oh Hey, In Ohio)

Hello again. Attentive readers are no doubt aware that it is occasionally customary for me to report on the happenings in the great state of Ohio when those happenings are available to me first-hand. I don’t suppose it would be right ignore tradition on this trip (we all know how I love traditions), but let me forewarn you: these facts will be hurled into the internet in no particular order and without any real attention to detail. This slapdash-edness can be blamed on both my refusal to imbue such unremarkable fare with a gripping narrative structure, and also on the three four Cuba Libres that have spent the last hour marching across my blood-brain barrier. “Whatever dude,” as the old saying goes.

First: a house down the street from my house was on fire for a little while a couple days ago. The consensus is that this is because lightning was striking everything in the immediate area like crazy, causing a ruckus and upsetting my family's cats (more on them later, probably). My mom and I, not being above the basic human instinct to see and breathe the problems of others free and clear of consequence or attacks of conscience, took a walk down the block to see what we could see.

here smoke can be seen coming from the house

Here is a firefighter


My house (not on fire)

WHAT ELSE HAPPENED?

I tried a Fast Food Restaurant for the First Time. For some people this is an unremarkable accomplishment, but some people spend all their time growing out their armpit hair in front of the TV instead of living life (Disclaimer: I also do this, but far less intentionally). I will not tell you the fast food chain I tried for the first time - instead you will find a picture of the item I consumed and you, the astute reader, will guess. This is how fun happens.


IN OTHER NEWS: I just got tired of writing this blog post! All other worthwhile information can be found below, condensed into bullet points for my convenience.

Additional Occurrences

• Got a new suit
• Drew This
• Pictures of Cats

Anyway, I'll be gone in nine hours.

What is it Like to go to Wal-Mart on Christmas Eve?

It’s probably not as bad as you’re imagining it to be. While malls and the like are swarmed with the hopelessly desperate and seasoned-out seasoners, the people you find at Wal-Mart forty minutes before it closes on Christmas eve are a quiet, doleful lot already resigned to their holiday failures. If the mob scene at malls are the war that ends the world, then the people at Wal-Mart the day before Christmas are the shuffling society that creeps out after the apocalypse. All the good food is long gone, and anything that could have ever been a bare necessity has been stripped from the shelves, like hurricane season in Florida. You can still find apple cider and deodorant though, so I came out ahead.

Here is some Information about Ohio

A lot of people have never been to Ohio, and as a result know very little about it. I used to be one of those people, but a cumulative stay of five months, two weeks, and three days over the course of the 2.5 years it’s been since moving here (two and a half years Jesus Christ are you serious?) has given me some information about this state that you may or may not be interested in. I have consolidated this information below in the form of questions and answers:

Q: Where is Ohio?
A: Ohio is near Kentucky and Indiana and also kind of Michigan.

Q: What kind of a place is Ohio?
A: The kind of place that makes Devo and decides presidential elections, and where some people but not too many people own dogs.

Q: What are some of Ohio’s better features?
A: It is mostly quiet, except for parts of some of the cities where it’s noisy and people shoot guns at you. Nobody comes to your door or calls your phone or bothers you if you don’t know anybody though.

Q: Are there museums?
A: Yes, it’s Ohio after all.

Q: Terrorism?
A: No.

Q: Do they call it Soda, or Pop?
A: Hard to say.

Q: What are the people there like?
A: Unremarkable. Hygienic.

Q: What’s the best thing about Ohio?
A: It’s always there if you need it.

Q: What’s the worst thing about Ohio?
A: It’s still there even if you don’t.

I hope that clears some things up.

Here Is How Ohio Is

I am not in Alaska yet, and this is for a couple of reasons. The first reason is that travel is not something that can be compared to continuous data, and is instead a series of compartmentalized steps that nobody has the authority to bypass. The result of all these rules is my presence in Ohio at this moment. Ohio is a place that, until what was technically yesterday, I hadn’t seen since January. What’s more, August and January are the two months during which I’ve spent the most total time in Ohio, and none of these Augusts or Januaries have ever been good times for this person. The worst part is that minor, month/season-specific details from January appear to be bleeding into this particular August. For example there are three two-liter bottles of Coke on the counter in the basement of the house, all of which feature polar bears and express a written hope that my holidays be happy. This is very unsettling for a person who enjoys both cola and Christmas as much as I do.

It gets worse. Ohio is also a place with a number of shelves that features objects the sight of which upsets me for reasons that are difficult to explain and therefore understand. I am not mad at the objects for being on the shelves, instead I am bothered rather tremendously by the simple fact they are existing in Ohio, when in fact it seems like they ought to be somewhere else. There are two shoeboxes and one sketchbook especially responsible for this mental unrest, but it’s unclear at this point what should be done. Last year I took the precautionary measure of cutting out all the words I ever wrote in the sketchbook.

I will now offer evidence that suggests that Ohio might not be a terrible place. My parents live here, despite the fact that their lives seem to be defined by extreme silence, and take place in a town in which it is unclear whether or not they actually know anyone despite having been here for two years.



Finally, Ohio provided me the adventure of dealing with a very scared mouse that had ensconced itself pretty securely in an area near the house’s kitchen. The story about this mouse ends with it being captured in a dustpan before being released outside, where it was in all likelihood devoured by an owl. The blood is not on my hands, the blood is on Mother Nature's hands and also the owl's, but owls do not have hands.