ATXperience, Pt. 2: Nostalgic Wilderness
Looking back on the past two months in Austin in some ways feels as though the days came and went with the hypnotic, blurring nature of an interstate in the last moments before rush hour. Conversely, the ups and downs of deciding to spend time in Texas’ capital occasionally left me feeling a few hours behind those road warriors; alone with my endless train of thoughts and motions just robotic enough to make it to my exit.
Transitional periods are always hard. As much as I move and travel, there’s never a truly painless way to get through uncertainty. Ultimately, the key is to keep moving forward.
While struggling to ensure financial stability and security, I gave myself a gift that I’m often deprived of while adjusting to a new job or schedule: I focused on my emotional, physical and mental health.
In Southern California, I had gotten myself down to a routine of taking dance classes four to five times per week. In Austin, I fell in love with a yoga studio upon first breath.
I’ve always been a huge fan of yoga, and as someone who struggles to turn off the mental chatter, I found that I left class feeling more focused and centered, even though I can’t completely tune out everything but my breathing.
Yoga became my everyday staple, and I could count on leaving both sweaty and rejuvenated. There were times I walked out of the studio feeling six feet tall. It’s these yoga classes that I credit for making the commitment to my next transition all the more fluid.
After two months of enjoying outdoor activities in Austin’s various watering holes, chasing food trucks and restaurants, enjoying thirst-quenching local beer and realizing that it starts to get harder to get lost in a small city, it was time to pack up and go.
I missed California. I ached for the ocean, the desert and the mountains. But I had another adventure to embark upon before I could return with a clear head to my favorite state: a trip to Europe was the prescription for my wanderers’ itch.
After scouring Google flights for a few days, I purchased an open-ended ticket to Barcelona from the East Coast where I’d be making a pit stop to see my family (my mother had given me plenty of guilt about not visiting enough.)
I mentally began plotting my possible travel routes: Spain to Portugal to France, bus from Paris to London (it’s actually a thing), trains to explore the UK castles, pubs and landmarks, and possibly a ferry to Ireland. I was also determined to see Greece and Amsterdam, but only time would tell where the foreign roads would lead me. As someone who’d rather explore a few cities intimately than a plethora to just scrape the surface, I knew the quantity would inevitably take a backseat to the quality of my travels.
In light of this trans-Atlantic voyage, I made my final plans in ATX. I enjoyed rooftop beers poolside at the W, watched the sunset at Zilker Park, devoured Voodoo Doughnut treats that were relatively worth the stomach-agitating aftermath, and of course, sipped plenty of caffeinated beverages at my favorite coffee shops.
On one of my final few days, I headed south to San Antonio to see an artist I’ve followed for 12 years. Andrew McMahon has been the soundtrack to my high school pop punk days as much as he helped to fuel my collegiate California dreams and ultimately, my semi-permanent Holiday From Real in the Golden State.
The magic of Andrew lies within his insightful use of language, and the ease with which he tells a story. While there are multiple artists I hold close to my heart for their story-telling ability, it’s Andrew who also has a live experience that keeps you dancing and geeking out even after the last of the encore. Andrew’s music is pure joy and effervescence; fans leave feeling taller and with a sense of belonging. Live music can be a spiritual experience, but Andrew is a king whose state is a church. All are welcome, and the congregation is loyal ‘til death.
It speaks volumes that even the songs in Andrew’s set list that never made it onto U.S. records are still sung right back to our on-stage monarch. Over a decade of discography and you’d be hard-pressed to find a dozen fans who didn’t know every word to every song during the show.
While part of my motivation to go see Andrew for the third time was nostalgic, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to owning his entire discography from all past projects (including as many rare and unreleased tracks as I’ve been able to get my hands on) in addition to his new material. It’s a unique trip to hear songs from Everything in Transit and realize that lines like, “I never thought that I’d be living on your floor, but the rents are high and LA’s easy” resonate in a completely different way after California stopped being an unattainable dream and instead became reality.
My California, much like Andrew’s over the vast majority of his albums, has most often been set against a backdrop of struggle. While it’s a main plot point that inevitably defines much of the experience, it’s not the whole story. It’s a badge of honor that speaks to character to not let the struggle break you, but to shape you in the ways that make you humble, raw and real. The struggle is a “sweet catastrophe,” if I may borrow and appropriate Andrew’s own words.
Still buzzing from the Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness concert and dropping my bags into my high school bedroom, I landed in PHL to be lost again in a strange inhabitable time capsule.
My bruised fingers, which had taken a beating from last minute packing and storage, reached towards an old t-shirt that had seen decades’ worth of childhood closets, and in the moment was soft enough to be silk. Weary, sleep-deprived eyes scanned the room at objects that were both familiar and foreign. The childhood trunk that I’d painted and decorated with lyrics to my favorite songs was still near the closet. Ticket stubs for Andrew McMahon’s various projects were still pinned to a memo board. Fake flower petals that I’d stuck to lamp shades and floating shelves to give the semblance of “cohesion” among my creative chaos still clung to their surfaces—collecting dust but still adding pops of color to the space. Books in every genre, from psychology to fiction to classics adorned shelves and storage spaces.
Most interesting, perhaps, were the pieces of California that were inescapable throughout the bedroom. In high school, postcards I’d collected from San Diego and Laguna Beach served as a reminder of the promise to myself to establish residence on the West Coast. Even after the relocation, I’d still managed to find pieces of “home” to bring to my parents’ own. Of course, the space still represented more of my past than my present or future, but it was certainly remarkable to take note of the things that hadn’t so much stayed the same, but had evolved alongside me.
My love for California has all but faded. Sure, I’ve learned that most of my previous Californian addresses weren’t right for me, but I have my heart set on making a transition to a beach community closer to San Diego. Having enough miles between LA’s city limits will provide “breathing room” and a healthier atmosphere—both literally and figuratively.
As I mulled over the past few weeks and the next few ahead, my thoughts again drifted to my return to California. The past two and a half years had contained six moves with a seventh just on the horizon.
It was anything but surprising that Andrew’s words came to mind as I slowed my mental running pace and steadied my breathing to get ready for bed.
“And when it’s all over, I’ll come back for another year…”
Cheers to La Vida Bohemia,
ATXperience, Pt. 2 Beer List:
Ginger Lemon Radler - Boulevard Brewing Co. (4.75/5)
The only real option when suffering from Austin allergies.
Otra Vez - Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. (4.75)
Spirit Animal - Blue Owl Brewing (3.75)
Hops present in this sour beer without being overpowered by them.
Professor Black - Blue Owl Brewing (4.5)
Sour stout. Faaaaaantastic.
Black Thunder (Schwarzbier) - Austin Beerworks (4.5)
Prairie Somewhere - Prairie Artisan Ales (4.25)
Y.S.B. #4 Figgie Smalls - Austin Beer Garden Brewing Co. (4.25)
Tasty sour. Obviously had to try this because of the name.
Luxury Liner (double IPA) - Austin Beer Garden Brewing Co. (4.5)
Vanilla Porter (on nitro) - Breckenridge Brewery (4.25)
Fireman’s Brew Blonde Beer - Fireman’s Brew (3.75)
Hans’ Pils - Real Ale Brewing Company (4.25)
I actually liked a pilsner.
Feral Dampf - Jester King Brewery (4)
Witbier - Community Beer Company (4.5)
Dry Hopped Berliner Weisse - Ranger Creek Brewing & Distilling (4.75)
German Sparkle Party - 10 Barrel Brewing Co. (3.75)
Meta Beer. A beer’s beer. But nothing special.
Little Gose - Blue Owl Brewing (4.25)
Tasted this at the brewery. Blue Owl can do no wrong. Delicious.
Dry Hopped Kettle Sour - Hops & Grain Brewing (3.75)
Love Street - Karbach Brewing Co. (3.5)
It should surprise no one that I wanted to try this because of The Doors.
Saíson Puede - Blue Owl Brewing (4.25)
Long Walk - 4th Tap Brewing Co-Op (4)
Had this from a keg at a party. Solid grapefruit IPA.
Funk Metal - Jester King Brewery (4.25)
Shady Oak Blonde - Branchline Brewing Co. (3.5)
Enjoyed this at a prohibition-style bar in San Antonio called The Esquire Tavern.
Staycation - Karbach Brewing Co (4)