Soundtrack Series, Part Four: On the Road

Summer is just about here (even if some of us are still waiting to graduate), and for me that means travel.  At least, in a roundabout way it does.  Yes, budget permitting I would love to go somewhere new and unfamiliar, but looking at things practically my journeys will most likely take place on the streets I already know.  And that's okay for now, because I feel like there's still something to be learned, and maybe even some new part of it to experience. 


But no matter where my travels (or lack thereof) lead me, I find myself thirsting for the perfect soundtrack to provide the essential musical companionship.  These are some of the tracks that will most definitely be making it into the rotation when the first of my journeys, Seattle to Chicago, kicks off next week.

Holiday in Spain -- Counting Crows
This song is kind of heartbreaking, but in an awesome way.  It's about escaping, which for me is most definitely a big part (if not the biggest part) of traveling.  I had a friend once say that she thought Adam Duritz makes his best music when he's depressed, and as much as I'd hope he's happier now, based on this song alone I would be inclined to agree.

Chicago -- Sufjan Stevens
No, I'm not biased just because the song title is my hometown.  This song is fantastic in a way that is uniquely Sufjan, and it's such a great travel song, especially for car rides (I honestly think there's something he did on purpose with the instrumentation that forces you to picture road-tripping across the country).

Good Man  -- Josh Ritter
This isn't really a traveling song, but it's catchy in a similar way.  Josh Ritter is one of my favorite artists because I feel like he has a song for every occasion and ever mood.  I like the idea of rolling along a highway with the windows open and this song on the radio, listening to its Western-y tune and picturing Josh's adorable smile when he sings it.

In the Sun -- Joseph Arthur
I think this is a great contemplative travel song, one that I'd probably play while walking through a quiet landscape or maybe looking down at one.  There are so many beautiful elements to this song, and it's one that makes me stop and pay attention every time I hear it.  I think it'd be a perfect way to put myself wholeheartedly into the present moment.

City of Blinding Light -- U2
This song is super catchy and super upbeat.  I like most of what U2 does, but speaking from experience this is a fantastic song for driving at night (especially in the city...with lights).  It just has one of those hooks that makes you feel like the night (or day) could go on forever.

Cape Canaveral -- Conor Oberst
 This is another one that I just enjoy listening to.  It makes me want to tap my foot a little and just let it wash over me, wherever I am and whatever I'm doing.  That, and I think the part about the actual Cape Canaveral probably has something to do with it-- because what means of travel is cooler than a rocket ship?

No Sound But the Wind -- Editors
Not only is this song about McCarthy's novel The Road (and I love me some songs about books, naturally), but it's just so epic.  For me it conjures the image of a dark road at night, quiet and abandoned, rolling along and watching the lines on the pavement swim past you.

Transatlanticism -- Death Cab for Cutie
I would posit that this song is terrific background music for a lot of the more solemn occasions in life.  And for me, travel often qualifies as one of those.  This track is great for a long walk, for staring out the window of a plane or train, or even sailing.


Bittersweet Symphony -- The Verve
This song is probably on this list almost solely because of the scene in Cruel Intentions where it plays as Reese Witherspoon drives away.  Is it not the perfect "heading out on the (literal or metaphorical) road" song?  I defy you to disagree.

Sound of Silence -- Simon & Garfunkel
 Maybe it's the amount of TV and movie montages in which I've seen this song used, but for me it evokes thoughts of transition, of change and of the inevitability that things will move forward, with or without you.  This is a thought I have often when traveling, even when that traveling is just a walk around my own neighborhood.  I feel very small sometimes, in the best way, especially compared to the nature around me, and this song accompanies that feeling very well.

What a Difference 4 Years Makes

In thirteen days I will be on a plane.  I will have gotten my diploma, a piece of paper that verifies how much debt I've accrued and how many dry dusty books I've read.  I will have said goodbye to the most wonderful people I've ever met, many for the last time.  And I will be closing this chapter of my life, stitching it neatly shut behind me without knowing what's ahead.

When I left Chicago for Seattle four years ago, I was bursting with hope.  I'd been trying to break out of the place and the life I'd known for so long, and here was my chance, finally.  I was ready for anything, good and bad.  And I've been lucky, because most of it, the vast majority really, has been good.  No, good doesn't do it justice.  It's been tremendous, life-changing, and educational in more ways than I ever expected.  I took a risk and, in a rare twist of fate for me, it paid off.  It paid off and I am so grateful it did.

Yes, I gave some things up to come here.  But the things I gave up then were all maybes, all possibilities, all question marks.  I might have found what I was looking for if I'd stayed, but probably not.  People looked at me strangely, didn't understand why I thought I needed to leave, to strike out on my own.  Some days even I didn't understand why, I just knew it was something that had to happen.  I didn't want to spend my life wading among the question marks, and wake up one day with a whole lot of would-haves and should-haves.

What I'm walking away from now is much different.  There aren't any maybes here, not really.  There are certainties, and a lot of them.  I could be happy here for the rest of my life.  I would get to keep the friends who have become my family.  I would feel safe, surrounded by the amazing landscape that makes up this place.  I would get to continue being this version of myself.

But the restless part of me recognizes that for the disadvantage that it actually is.  The wanderer inside of me isn't ready to stop moving, to settle for what I've found at 22, even though I feel more alive here than I ever have.  There's an optimism in this next step, the biggest question mark I've yet encountered-- if four years here can change me so much for the better, who's to say I can't find even more in the next place I decide to call home?  And even if that's not on the table yet, that feeling of instability, of not knowing quite what's going to happen tomorrow, it pushes me to strive for more, to be better.  It's the reason I've taken so long writing my novel while I've been here-- I didn't need to use writing as my escape nearly as often as I used to.  But do you know what?  In the weeks leading up to my departure, I've been more dedicated to it than ever; some part of me feels like if I can just finish telling the story, everything will be okay.

And really, that's been the case my whole life, probably always will be.  As long as I can write, as long as I can keep telling stories, things will turn out all right.  That, at least, has never been a question mark.