Ironic, isn't it?

Out of all the people I know, I'm the one who wants to get out of Claremont the most, and where am I over spring break? I'll give you a hint: starts with a C, ends with a get me the fuck out of here!
It's out of necessity, of course: I'm staying so I can work in the studio so I can write and record five musical compositions so I can apply for an internship that I have practically no chance of getting. And yeah, I like that I finally have time to spend on creative endeavors, but the absence of classes and the lack of people remind me anew how much I don't want to be on this campus.
If I could take just one breather, things might be all right. This one summer when I was in high school, my dad took me and my brother on a road trip around the southwest. As with basically everything I did with my family when I was a teenager, I appreciate this much more in retrospect than I did at the time. But even then, I was amazed at how beautiful everything was. I got to see the Grand Canyon, of course, and Mesa Verde and Arches and Zion and probably a lot of other national parks whose names haven't stayed with me. Now I go to school within short-road-trip distance of all of those places, but I haven't been back to any of them.
I think I just need to venture out to the middle of nowhere and stare up at the millions and millions of stars that are visible in a desert sky. I want to wander around and meditate and not eat for a few days and take hallucinogens and write pages and pages of music and maybe get a tan. I feel like after that I could come back here and things would be bearable.
As it is, though, I'm stuck. And it's not the kind of frustration I can channel into music; it's the kind that makes me want to curl into a ball and close my eyes until things get better or until I go insane.