The Millennial Battle Cry

Oh my God I’m so tired.

Anyone else? Like, the last two weeks for some reason I’m just completely exhausted. Still going through the motions, trying to be productive, make art, post to Instagram; but man, am I beat. I don’t feel physically stressed out- I mean, my hair isn’t falling out any more than normal and my skin is at standard acne level- but I have my suspicions that my pooped-ness is due to just that. Stress. The stress of being isolated and confined, trying to get a business off the ground, inner conflict about whether I’m even capable of it, stress about money, stress about health, not to mention the state of the union, the utter bludgeoning of bad news, etc… It’s all feeling rather insurmountable.

Mustard who gets plenty of rest


Speaking of insurmountable, Kyle and I went for a hike last Saturday to a place called Crafts Peak, way up high in the San Bernardino (pronounced, by me: “Bern-er-deen-er”) forest. I wanted to get outta town for a minute, get back into nature, and try to avoid people as much as possible (that’s a weird new feeling: wanting to get the F out of isolation but also wanting to avoid all people at all costs). After some casual research using the keyword/phrase “lightly trafficked,” I settled on Crafts Peak.

We drove about an hour east, then another 40 minutes Charlie Day’s North (re: straight up into the sky), arriving without much issue, save a couple little squabbles here and there about my subpar navigation skills and where the heck are we supposed to buy an Adventure Pass anyway? Parked the car in the sort-of designated area, and readied our bodies (ate Clif bars) and minds (went into denial) to ascend 1,600 feet farther up into the sky. 7.2 miles out and back, easy pease.

So, I don’t know if some people can see those numbers with their eyes and compute them in their brains, but apparently I can’t. It was a long hike. It was a tough hike. It was serious frickin’ exercise. But the views were nice. Multiple times, in the midst of catching our breath, hands-on-knees, hearts pumping at an alarming rate, we’d look over and say, “Well, this is incredible.” It was hot, and there wasn’t much shade, but the air smelled so lovely and tree bark-y. The trail, mostly a fire access road, was surrounded with gorgeous pines, big rocks, scurrying lizards and chipmunks. It was sort of like a hike back east, nary a cactus in sight. And, of course, the views were absolutely stunning. I gathered a whole bunch of inspiration for the ol’ art bank.

We could hear a thunderstorm off in the distance. I was so excited at the prospect of weather! But not so much when I realized that we’d be pretty close to lightning. No matter, it was still pretty far off; we kept on.

There were a few spots where Kyle (and I) had to trust my less-than-stellar navigation skills again, once the access road turned into an actual trail. The last bit was definitely the toughest, I’d say. We went through a damp-feeling, forested area positively teeming with buzzing buggos, which cleared out into a steep white-rock path. We