This train thing has become a bit of a habit with me. I feel like it’s a bit of a character study project now, more than anything. The trains are great, but I’m not going through the horribly uncomfortable semi-sleepless nights for no good reason.

On this particular trip, I was returning from a funeral in Ft. Collins, Colorado to my new home (home as in “location” not “place” as I currently have no where other than very temporary housing to live).

When I was 18 and had just graduated from highschool, my Grandma Rose and I had the opportunity to accompany my mother’s cousin,Valerie, and her husband, Jack, on a trip to England. It was the first time I had travelled internationally and it totally blew my mind.

Like most teenagers, I probably didn’t appreciate the trip for what it was as much as I would have now, but being that I am who I am (and was who I was), I tried to make it different that most teenage experiences. We also went to Rome and Southern Italy where we got to see the gravesite of my great-uncle, who had died in combat in Italy during WWII.

I most remember the wining and dining and Jack playing with the kids (his grandchildren) in England. He was a fun guy with bad jokes (we must be related,somehow, as my jokes are equally as bad).

[Jack and I at my Aunt's wedding in the 90s]

Unfortunately, he passed away of a heart attack over his holiday with the family in the Isle of Wight this past December. I’m sorry it had to be like that.

So, that’s how I came to be in Colorado. It was an emotional couple of days, but I am so so greatful to have been able to meet so many wonderful family members. I think what was most difficult was saying goodbye. Well,duh, goodbyes always suck, but this was a different kind of goodbye because it was a) saying goodbye after attending a funeral b) saying goodbye to really wonderful people I was only just starting to get to know.

We shall meet again.

Now, I’m in the most wonderful place in the world: San Francisco. I’m staying at a little hostel downtown and I couldn’t be happier. I don’t have much, but I have everything in the world that I could ever ask for.

And so the explorations begin: for a job, for an apartment, and for new friends. I miss Carbondale and all of my wonderful, talented, and creative friends and mentors, but I know I’m in the right place for me right now. Ready, set, go!

Am I crazy? 3 days on a train! But really, it’s one of the more unique experiences of my life. The world’s most interesting people are on this train. So naturally, I’ve been imagining myself in some new travel-inspired Richard Linklater or Jim Jarmusch film. But little does everyone here know that they’re all going to be in a Danielle Williamson original,one day .

So,I’ve decided that Tom Waits is the best travel companion one could ever ask for. I’ve been cycling through his 3-disc collection, Orphans. So perfect. The track titled “Nirvana” is especially beautiful. That 3rd disc is great, because half of it is him recounting stories and stuff like that. Good stuff. There’s nothing like being on the road, in motion. Today, I’m an electron.

I’ve officially been on this moving slab of metal for at least 30 hours. Wowza. Over that course of that time, I’ve met a drunk,pot-smoking, self-proclaimed born-again Christian; a breast cancer survivor from Texas who has dreams of going to college and/or becoming an actress; a software programmer/ D&D master; a contractor from New Mexico; and a witness to a murder from Seattle who was just returning from the court hearing in Albuquerque. Surely, I’m in a film,non?

This trip has been an interesting self-exploration in regards to time AND space. Most of the time, I’ve had no idea where I am, geographically. We’re just this unit, hurtling (or more appropriately, for this ride, stalling) on these things called tracks. My digital devices have failed me, so I’m not even certain of the time. But none of that really matters right now. I feel like, because I’m here on this train that’s all that needs to be understood.

We only just got into California about an hour or so ago and are about 7 hours behind schedule. So instead of going to LA, I actually have to catch a bus to somewhere else to board another train to head off the original train I would be taking off at the pass. It’s all part of the experience. Wish I had more exciting stories, but I’m feeling exceptionally introspective. Everything that I’ve consumed with my eyes and ears over the last week is all marinating inside.

[-- written 8:33AM PST in Southern California//Amtrak]

…just need to add, what I just read on an Amtrak brochure:
TACOMA “Called the “City of Destiny” because of the sawmills and lumber all along McCarver Street, Tacoma today remains a major seaport city.

So I did.

And it’s been a long time coming. That is to say, I’ve been dreaming and scheming my move out west for years. So it’s weird to finally see this happening, the pieces actually fitting together like they are right now. I think what helped me be so cool about things this time around was the most recent piece of literature I’ve been consuming. It’s a short little book by David Lynch titled, Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness, and Creativity. He talks about an artists life and how it is most important to just be able to have the time to think and create. So, after my gig in St. Louis in September I waited things out.

Now, let me just start by saying that I have the privilege to even be able to wait it out and figure my next plans. But I knew that I couldn’t just rush into things, being that these next few years were going to be a whole other important to my life and career. So I soaked in my surroundings and enjoyed the culture I was learning about, the new experiences I was having, and everything else I was learning. Then slowly, a car ride down to Carbondale leads to another one over to Kansas City and now here I sit, in a train at 1:40am on my way to Tacoma, Washington.

Which brings me back to actually getting out of Illinois. About 20 minutes or so before we reach Missouri, Derek stops at the gas station and asks me to grab him a candy bar. So I hope in for some road snacks, but when I come back out…he’s gone. “No big deal”, I think, “he’s probably just pulled over to the side to let other people tank up. Nope, not the case.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a mass with flowing blond hair come from around the corner of the gas station shouting my name. It’s Damon, of all people. He tells me to get into a car filled with two more of my friends. Haha. “What? am I really being kidnapped by my friends?” Most definitely. With no clue where I was headed (which is actually extremely true for many moments in my life), my friends continued driving us West.

We ended up in the town where we shot the last film I worked on in September. We pulled into the local diner where more of our friends met up with us. A meal and what I thought was goodbye led to another mysterious car ride around the town. Now, this is a very unique town. It is essentially constructed with strip clubs and zinc plants, so I had not the faintest idea of what was next.

After driving on a “private” gravel service road, we were parked outside of a giant river-side casino. But that’s not where we were going! Instead, once we got out of the car, Damon’s dad pulls up in his car and pulls from within it my giant hiking pack. They tell me to put it on and start walking. Mind you, it’s also raining and about 50F or so. We hike up about 3 flights of stairs up to the top of a bridge that crosses over the Mississippi.

Damon lines all of our friends up in a line and asks me to approach. Now it’s time for goodbye. Each person gives me a hug with their own parting words and as I pass them, I receive a swift kick in the ass. When I turn for one last look at all of them, they yell in unison: “get the hell out of Illinois!” Damon walks me a little ways up the bridge, tells me not to be afraid and hands me a plastic whale and tells me to continue the rest of the walk on my own.

So I walked across the Mississippi, pack in tow, by myself. A very symbolic bridge to cross through the gateway to the West. And it was definitely something I did have to do on my own. I’m grateful for my friends. I have felt so loved. These past few months have really been something else, what with Occupy and a few extra adventures in the middle. That adventure put me safely into Derek’s car at the other end of the bridge.

I very well can’t go back now. This is for real. Because “if [I] came back in 2 weeks, that would be really awkward”, right Dan?

Stay tuned for more stories + my great train adventure

Toujours,

danielle

[-- written from the train w/ no internet 12/22/11 @1:34am]