Thoughts I Had During My Failed Attempts to Enjoy Nature

Wow! The petals on this flower are falling out. Kind of like my hair.

Nice canyon! I love how, when I yell into it, it echoes back what I’m saying. Similar to my boss, when he’s taking credit for my ideas.

How many grains of sand are there on this beach? All I know is that counting them all would crash Excel.

This luscious stream just keeps going and going and going. As does my credit-card bill.

Those bees are so busy making honey! It must be nice to see the fruits of your labor. Will I write unread analytics reports until I die?

The colors of the leaves are changing. Unlike literally any part of my life.

Golly, look at that cow! She doesn’t care what anybody thinks, or else she wouldn’t take a dump in public. You know what—enough is enough. I am the cow (I’m allowed to call myself that—you aren’t). Fuck it. I’m quitting my job. I’m following nature. I’m going to immerse myself in the land. That’s right—I’m hiking the Pacific Crest Trail!

The trail is amazing! I love being this high up on a mountain—it makes my rent look proportionally small.

So fun to be on a trail where there are marks on the trees telling me where to go. I could use that in my career. And personal life. Also, on the Internet. Does anybody know what I’m supposed to be doing? I do think my life might have gone a bit more smoothly if I’d received clear instructions on what to do after college.

You can’t scare me, Mr. Rattlesnake. In my experience, things that get relatively close to me recoil and vanish. Or romantic interests do, at least. Each of whom I’ve had dozens and dozens and dozens of hours to think about out here on the trail.

Oof, it’s a bit scary to fall asleep when I can hear a wolf howling. This must be what it’s like to have a baby. Oh, shit. Are my eggs rotting? Should I be seeking a new partner more aggressively? I’m literally all alone.

I think I heard a snap. It was either a twig or my ankle.

Whoa, the sap on that tree reminds me of the pus from the blister I popped last night. No one warned me that hiking was this hard on the body.

I cannot keep walking any farther. I will fall down, like a felled redwood.

What a glorious sunset! If I were still at work, I’d be leaving the office right now. Vacations are so hard, because I have to miss that part of the day. It’s the best.

Such a cute duck, trying and failing to paddle against the current. That’s too obvious a metaphor for me even to address.

What a gorgeous butterfly. Why can’t I, too, emerge from my cocoon of loneliness, despair, and utter stagnation, both professional and emotional? Why did I think that spending three months alone with no phone service would solve all my problems? Why do I always, always, always make the wrong choice? And why am I so unprepared to handle this trail? Is it because some people spend years prepping, and I devoted all of forty-five minutes? Or am I just inherently worthless?

Why won’t these geese shut the hell up?

Look at that eagle flying away. Truly inspiring! I’m going to quit.

Wow, so nice to breathe fresh air. From this air-conditioning unit. In this hotel room. But my time on the P.C.T.—that was a glorious forty-eight hours.