I have traveled on many routes in the United States. U. S. highways, Interstate highways, state highways, county roads and what my father referred to as pig trails. Each route had its own personality and stories to tell..
The route changed as every person on the bus flew to the right side, knocked over due to the sudden change in course. Instead of heading towards the shimmering blue beach, the bus revved towards a gloomy, darkening forest made complete with fluttering bats and howling wolves.
I traveled as far as I could as the hot sun shone brightly above my head. Scratching my hair in disbelief I looked to the flat horizon for any sign of life. Something that could prove to me that I wasn’t dead. That I wasn’t a blind man walking in a space of nothing. My once white beater was covered in brown caked sand and mud from all those long nights sleeping in the sandy beds the dessert provided. My Levi Jeans were rolled up to the knees, my tan calves glistened with sweat and jumped in pain with every stride.
i traveled along this forgotten road. the sign read route 33. i passed abandoned farmhouses and condemned shacks. how long had this place been deserted? what did it look like before it was? even in all of its lackluster-ness, it held a serenity and beauty not found amongst the concrete jungle.
Lucy took the long way home. Met me in a field of stone.- Jeremy Messersmith How do make those little hearts? oh yeah its like…no just kidding i have no idea.
The route I’ve taken have led me to where I am today. This means it had led me to this fucked up place: I always thought my boyfriend had lied to me once but what a little naive girl I am, isn’t it? There he is, lying to me again. Well, so am I now.
His was mine.
Then it happened, he vanished. Without and scream or even a cry…. I lost him, the forest engulfed him, the wind swept him away in its power and the howling wolves ate him. We used to be on the same route, But now I’m lost in the night.
I took the usual route this morning. Nothing ever happens there, but this time was different. I could sense that something was off, but I did not know what it was. I kept on driving, looking around me.
Route is a tricky word pronunciation-wise. Some people say “root” instead which kinda wigs me out. I’ve always wondered what the right way to say it is, but I guess I’ll never know. Perhaps there is no right way. Maybe it all depends on what region a person is from. It’s a real mystery.
The route I never traveled will always be the one I regret the most. A statement that will forever be one of my greatest fears, and I become paralyzed by the thought of all the routes I didn’t travel in my life.
“you always take the hardest route and complain along the way. ” he said as his friend struggled with the task. “hell, you always like to mock me while i struggle!” In all fairness, they were both useless in every aspect of their lives.
I’ll take the nearest route out of here. I’ll slide my leathery palms across the dash and pray to God I’ll find some one
Somewhere
Something
That belongs truly to me. I’ll tick away time, on past these straight lines and hope one day I’ll find it soon.
en route to the house. jeez i’m on my way don’t rush me! i hate when people rush me. it’s so annoying. like when jordan claps or taps me. it’s like i know! i know we have to go! i know we dont have time
Route 66 is a road. I think it’s in Missouri? Maybe, kinda like by my boyfriend’s school. Which sucks how far away it is. Yeah. This is kind of boring but I have nothing better to do. Route routity route. I know that’s not a word… oh well :)
I take the nearest route out of here. I slide my leather palms across the dash and pray to god I’ll find some one-somewhere-something… thank belongs truly to me. I tick away time on past these straight lines and hope one day I’ll find it soon.
You love the roundabout route.
I have road signs, flashing lights, turn signals directing you.
But you love the detour.
Love the extra miles it takes to make it worth it.
The route to the gift shop from my high school was boring until I came home from college. I had traveled it every day for four years. Waiting for the bus in the cold foggy Pac Heights, getting of in the sunny but windy Castro.
I can’t think of any other way to say it. Talking to you is like going through a maze. There’s so many different ways I can navigate, but as many routes and paths as there are to take, there are just as many pitfalls for me to fall in or dead ends for me to run into. I suck at communication. Just get me out of this maze, or get me a map.
Am I on the right route? Who knows? And when do you find out? And how do you know you’re always going to be happy on that route? Nobody knows the answers to this question; we just go, without giving it a second thought. If we stopped and thought about it, how many times a day would we switch routes? There are so many paths in our lives and just a single decision can fuck everything up.
The route to happiness is hard to see sometimes. But if you take a moment in the midst of all the traffic of life, you’ll see a spark that reminds you, yes life is good. There are things to be happy about every day along the route.
I would like to go up, but don’t know the way.
I would like to go left or right, but there is no end in sight.
I am afraid to go down, because I have been going that route and I get no where.
I will have to stay where I am, hope for the best, prepare for the worst and live in limbo.
I’m not feeling particularly inspired by this word, but I suppose it’s something of a fitting one for the new year; a new approach, a new path, and one that I’ll follow through with. A bit of a stretch? Probably :) Anyway, I’ll get somewhere this time. I may not know where I’ll end up or who I’ll be, but it’s an exciting prospect, and I look forward to the new year. Milwordy, Project 365, and 2011: three new goals. Let’s go.
Spencer continued along the route. He knew that he could never go back. He was an outcast. His shame defeated his usual nature of being such a pride-filled individual.
The route up to and through the house of my dreams leads to a room with a bad sort of entity. Don’t read anything into it… I also have a lot of zombie dreams. I just love creepy movies.
“It says route seven!” I shout.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! This is nine. Give me that map!”
“We must have taken a wrong turn.” Brett frowns at the map, then turns it around – the perfect cliche of a husband who just cannot navigate to save his life.
Argh. “Give it to me!”
“You can’t read it when you’re driving!”
“It’ll be safer than you at the wheel!”
How is route pronounced? I hear 2 different ways all the time. Root or rowwwt. I’m not 100% sure. I like the rowwt way better, that way I know we’re not talking about carrots.
I have traveled on many routes in the United States. U. S. highways, Interstate highways, state highways, county roads and what my father referred to as pig trails. Each route had its own personality and stories to tell..
The route changed as every person on the bus flew to the right side, knocked over due to the sudden change in course. Instead of heading towards the shimmering blue beach, the bus revved towards a gloomy, darkening forest made complete with fluttering bats and howling wolves.
I traveled as far as I could as the hot sun shone brightly above my head. Scratching my hair in disbelief I looked to the flat horizon for any sign of life. Something that could prove to me that I wasn’t dead. That I wasn’t a blind man walking in a space of nothing. My once white beater was covered in brown caked sand and mud from all those long nights sleeping in the sandy beds the dessert provided. My Levi Jeans were rolled up to the knees, my tan calves glistened with sweat and jumped in pain with every stride.
where to go? how to get there? which way? no, not that one!
a new one
each year a new one
sat-nav; one of the single greatest inventions since the internet. makes it easy to get anywhere, but completely removes the need to learn ‘the way’…
he was on the right track it seems. but google maps always gets me lost.
i traveled along this forgotten road. the sign read route 33. i passed abandoned farmhouses and condemned shacks. how long had this place been deserted? what did it look like before it was? even in all of its lackluster-ness, it held a serenity and beauty not found amongst the concrete jungle.
Lucy took the long way home. Met me in a field of stone.- Jeremy Messersmith How do make those little hearts? oh yeah its like…no just kidding i have no idea.
The route I’ve taken have led me to where I am today. This means it had led me to this fucked up place: I always thought my boyfriend had lied to me once but what a little naive girl I am, isn’t it? There he is, lying to me again. Well, so am I now.
His was mine.
Then it happened, he vanished. Without and scream or even a cry…. I lost him, the forest engulfed him, the wind swept him away in its power and the howling wolves ate him. We used to be on the same route, But now I’m lost in the night.
I took the usual route this morning. Nothing ever happens there, but this time was different. I could sense that something was off, but I did not know what it was. I kept on driving, looking around me.
Route is a tricky word pronunciation-wise. Some people say “root” instead which kinda wigs me out. I’ve always wondered what the right way to say it is, but I guess I’ll never know. Perhaps there is no right way. Maybe it all depends on what region a person is from. It’s a real mystery.
The dusty road wound through the mountains like a golden snake, twisting through the narrow passes and precarious cliffs.
The route I never traveled will always be the one I regret the most. A statement that will forever be one of my greatest fears, and I become paralyzed by the thought of all the routes I didn’t travel in my life.
“you always take the hardest route and complain along the way. ” he said as his friend struggled with the task. “hell, you always like to mock me while i struggle!” In all fairness, they were both useless in every aspect of their lives.
I’ll take the nearest route out of here. I’ll slide my leathery palms across the dash and pray to God I’ll find some one
Somewhere
Something
That belongs truly to me. I’ll tick away time, on past these straight lines and hope one day I’ll find it soon.
en route to the house. jeez i’m on my way don’t rush me! i hate when people rush me. it’s so annoying. like when jordan claps or taps me. it’s like i know! i know we have to go! i know we dont have time
Route 66 is a road. I think it’s in Missouri? Maybe, kinda like by my boyfriend’s school. Which sucks how far away it is. Yeah. This is kind of boring but I have nothing better to do. Route routity route. I know that’s not a word… oh well :)
I take the nearest route out of here. I slide my leather palms across the dash and pray to god I’ll find some one-somewhere-something… thank belongs truly to me. I tick away time on past these straight lines and hope one day I’ll find it soon.
You love the roundabout route.
I have road signs, flashing lights, turn signals directing you.
But you love the detour.
Love the extra miles it takes to make it worth it.
The route to the gift shop from my high school was boring until I came home from college. I had traveled it every day for four years. Waiting for the bus in the cold foggy Pac Heights, getting of in the sunny but windy Castro.
a route is an established path for travel.
i do not have an established path for travel.
i do not have a route.
instead, i have in front of me a sea of opportunities, and a forest of uncharted land
waiting for me to establish my own path for travel.
here’s to a new year
and many new routes.
66
road
flute
suit
cute
highway
fruit
tree
root
boot
desert
long
winding
narrow
cars
traffic
gps
I can’t think of any other way to say it. Talking to you is like going through a maze. There’s so many different ways I can navigate, but as many routes and paths as there are to take, there are just as many pitfalls for me to fall in or dead ends for me to run into. I suck at communication. Just get me out of this maze, or get me a map.
Whenever we need to get from one place to another, it’s always best to pick one of these that are the shortest if you wanna get there fast enough.
Am I on the right route? Who knows? And when do you find out? And how do you know you’re always going to be happy on that route? Nobody knows the answers to this question; we just go, without giving it a second thought. If we stopped and thought about it, how many times a day would we switch routes? There are so many paths in our lives and just a single decision can fuck everything up.
The route to happiness is hard to see sometimes. But if you take a moment in the midst of all the traffic of life, you’ll see a spark that reminds you, yes life is good. There are things to be happy about every day along the route.
This
The smell of asphalt and tension.
Merging into a crowded pathway of pedestrians
If only this would lead to somewhere safe.
I would like to go up, but don’t know the way.
I would like to go left or right, but there is no end in sight.
I am afraid to go down, because I have been going that route and I get no where.
I will have to stay where I am, hope for the best, prepare for the worst and live in limbo.
I’m not feeling particularly inspired by this word, but I suppose it’s something of a fitting one for the new year; a new approach, a new path, and one that I’ll follow through with. A bit of a stretch? Probably :) Anyway, I’ll get somewhere this time. I may not know where I’ll end up or who I’ll be, but it’s an exciting prospect, and I look forward to the new year. Milwordy, Project 365, and 2011: three new goals. Let’s go.
the way to go; a path; a road to walk; a choice of direction. from one place to another. the way to get somewhere.
“There must be some kind of way out of here,” said the Joker to the Thief.
Little did they know about the trapdoor. The one right underneath their feet.
Spencer continued along the route. He knew that he could never go back. He was an outcast. His shame defeated his usual nature of being such a pride-filled individual.
Traveling is fun which ever route you choose. I dont know the square route of anything.
The route up to and through the house of my dreams leads to a room with a bad sort of entity. Don’t read anything into it… I also have a lot of zombie dreams. I just love creepy movies.
Routes are never good news. Routes mean patterns. And patterns, as everybody knows are traps.
The route was long and treacherous
or maybe it was just my imagination
“It says route seven!” I shout.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! This is nine. Give me that map!”
“We must have taken a wrong turn.” Brett frowns at the map, then turns it around – the perfect cliche of a husband who just cannot navigate to save his life.
Argh. “Give it to me!”
“You can’t read it when you’re driving!”
“It’ll be safer than you at the wheel!”
How is route pronounced? I hear 2 different ways all the time. Root or rowwwt. I’m not 100% sure. I like the rowwt way better, that way I know we’re not talking about carrots.