The Resolutions

Oh my, oh my. Another year has come and gone. So now it is time--the resolutions.

One year I think I had about thirty listed. Well, I think i maybe achieved about 2 things on the list. So this year it is all about simplicity. I'm narrowing it down to my top three:

1. Be Generous

As a college student, I don't really have a lot to share. But I think life is better when you share what you do have, and sharing isn't really about money.

2. Be Active

This year I want to strike a balance between work and play. It seems like last year I worked a lot more than many other people around me. My life is always active, but I want to be active doing things I enjoy.

3. Random Acts of Kindness

I used to do this more but somehow got a bit out of the habit. I need to remember to show the people that I care about that I appreciate them.

Oh....and I really should work on eating less bread.

How does this year stack up? It was a big year. This year was a little bit of everything. It was dynamic. Overwhelming. Devastating. Exciting. Fun. Introspective. Confusing.

So...Goodbye, 2007. I have a feeling 2008 will be another dynamic year.

Wanting to Stay

I will miss a lot of things. I know that this will be an adventure. But when things are good, it's hard to walk away. I just need to get there, to be happy, and to realize that this is indeed a good thing. It will be okay.

V is for Vanish

How heavy is the bag I carry, you ask?

I'm not really sure. I've been carrying it a while.

I needed change this semester. I had to drop everything and look at my life. Who I had become. Acknowledge what was happening to me and my family. Recognize what was happening to my body. Remember events that never should have taken place.

When you hit rock bottom you are embarrassed by what you discover. And even though you want to hold someone's hand, you don't want anyone to see where you have ended up. You feel like nobody would ever want to be friends with someone so weak, damaged, bitter, selfish, and unhappy. You want people to see the best of you. Pity makes you even more aware of your unfortunate situation.

I had to disappear. I needed a fresh start, I needed the people who knew me not to know how bad things were. I needed to vanish so I could reappear in one piece. I needed time to collect my mind. To be absent from a world I no longer could participate in. I had to cut ties. I had to pick myself up and be better.

People should understand this. If they can't live with this, they can live without me. The version of myself I became was something that I could only trust to those who knew me very best. If people think that my vanishing act was something personal against them-- a vindictive move against people who were once close to me -- they really must not know me very well or be very good friends. Why would it have anything to do with you? For once I had to do whatever it was I needed. I needed this.


People should worry less about how they factor into other people's equations, especially when they aren't sure what sort of variables one is working with. People should also talk about other people less. But when you do the math--it's easier to criticize others' flaws than admit to our own. Plus it can make our flaws appear less damaging.


So rather than assume my wickedness and selfishness, it would be nice if I could be given the benefit of the doubt.

I'm not ready to reappear.

My bag is still very heavy.

But I'm not ready to let you take some of the weight.

Moving Slowly

I seem to be moving very slowly these days. I've been having a hard time getting up in the morning, and the snow outside sort of depresses me. I've never been a winter creature. But it is beautiful outside. The snow has frozen to the branches of all of the birch trees and I sort of feel like I am living in a black and white movie. Everything is shades a grey, black, and white. As such, the drive to work has been slower, walking outside on the ice is a slow and tedious process, and I find myself needing a few extra minutes of sleep every day.

It's strange to know that someone will still be interested in me despite how damaged I have become. And I don't just mean interested in getting some, I mean actually interested in me as a whole. It's strange to realize someone remembers the things I tell them, wants to talk to me, and seems happy from one kiss. For a while I felt that my unhappiness was contagious-that anyone around me would be infected by my bitterness. I guess not. I find that I can't really be sad anymore when there are reasons to be happy. I realize that someone will find me attractive and unique and be happy to be with me. I'm not as damanged as I thought. And even though I am leaving soon and this quasi-relationship can't last very long, I'm so glad someone has been kind to me and made me realize that there are plenty of reasons that someone would want to be with me. I love getting to spend time with someone so well-meaning and genuinely nice.

But I suppose I have too much to do to be sitting here and blogging about the details of my recent life. I find myself slowly approaching the end of my semester. Grades okay, bank account expanded. Mission accomplished. Almost.

Making all Kinds of Plans

Mmmmm.

Basically I slept for 12 hours last night. And I have a huge exam tomorrow that I haven't touched yet and a presentation due also. I love midterm time. Three exams this week, two huge papers due a week from tomorrow...

It doesn't help that I spent all day Saturday suffering from a massive wine-induced hangover.

Never again.

BUT-I purchased my ticket to Spain today. Then was sort of too distracted by excitement to get much studying done.

Oi. Back to Mussolini.

Snow and Semester Slump

Good lord. Semesters are LONG. I've forgotten just how painfully long a semester of school is. I feel like I have been in these classes forever already, and it is only MIDTERMS. It's really quite upsetting. I have absolutely no motivation to do ANYTHING. I am terribly behind in my history class and I cannot bring myself to get into the game. It's really, really, quite bad.

Another impending doom: SNOW. Why must this happen to me? It isn't even Halloween yet and the weather seems set on dropping a snowfall before the 31st. It's unforgivable. I know that it normally snows before Halloween, but I was really hoping, just because I decided to stay this semester, the weather would reconsider. Nobody hates scraping their windshield and wiping show off of their car more than me. On my driveway it is a perilous way to start your morning. Plus the morning commute into town with snow traffic--come on, Alaska. Just spare me until mid-November. I know it has to snow--but I've also seen this great state hold out. It totally can.

So I need to stop playing out fantasies of Spain in travel in my mind and get into my books. But it's nearly impossible. I am feeling this overwhelming itch to be out of school. And I mean now. Graduation needs to be acquired. The idea of another year of undergraduate sounds nauseating. I don't want to go back to Bellingham, but transferring here would cause me to loose a bunch of credits. Damn it. I hate money and financing an education and places that I just overall hate. Hate hate hate.

Also--ever gotten a severe allergic reaction to novicane? Well, let me fill you in if you haven't. It sucks. It's awful. My face swelled up and my puffy miserable self was on a series of antibiotics, steriods, and perkoset simultaneously. It kept my disfugured profile undercover in my home and missed three days of class and work. Tradition when I am sick/drugged on pain meds is to wrap myself into a comfortable nest on my couch and watch the travel channel all day. Which is exactly what I did. I learned all about Haunted America and the best New England bed and breakfasts. Delicious.

Also I went to an auction with my mom and we won $50,000 Alaska airlines miles. Looks like I'll be flying to Spain for $500. What a steal. And putting up the number was kind of exciting. I'd never been to an auction.

Well, basically I am writing this because I don't want to be studying for my history midterm which at this point is already 5 days late. So--of I go, no choices anymore.

Adios, blogspot.

An Unusual Dream

Right. So just as I was feeling all philosophical/medatative before, I am now suddently flooded with the memory of a recent dream of mine. Bizarre. Strange. And maybe not something I should be writing about. But oh well, here goes.

We've all heard the familiar expression, "She/he/I shit a brick." Indeed. Well, my dream begins with me in a public restroom (oddly my elementary school restroom captured in strangely accurate detail) and I am staring into the white ceramic toilet bowl and what appears to be a brick. And by brick I mean a brick. Not a brick of shit, but a real brick. Bricks to make houses from. Even though the actual "release" of this brick was not included in my dream I simply knew upon seeing this red brick sitting in the toilet bowl it had come from me. The rest of the dream was me trying to somehow dispose of this brick, being that I obviously couldn't flush it. I was running around my elementary school trying to figure out what to do with the brick in the toilet and how to get rid of it before anybody found out. For some reason I was extremely disgusted and embarassed by this brick. I was desperate to dispose of it. An annoucement was made over the school intercom that a brick had been found in the bathroom and that whoever was responsible would be discovered and punished.

In the end I somehow diposed of the brick although I don't quite remember how. I just remember waking up feeling extremely satisfied and relieved that the brick had been destroyed.

Since it is probably the oddest dream I have ever had (which is saying a lot because I dream almost every night) it sort of stuck with me. I was talking about it with my friend in Minnesota.... and low and behold we notice a Dream Interpretation book sitting on the table in front of us. Random, no? So we read it and it says that a brick in a dream:

"indicates unsettled business and disagreements in love affairs."

And we started laughing hysterically. "So," my best friend said through chuckles, "in this dream about the brick...were you quite literally putting your unsettled business behind you?"

We enjoyed a good laugh and as I wiped tears off my face I decided that yes... indeed. In my dream I had symbolically put all of this shit behind me. And while it was a challenge to dispose of it, and much to my horror people were whispering about it and gossiping about it, in the end I victoriously disposed of the brick.

I can't believe I had a dream that I shit a brick. Oh well. I think I'm quite impressive.

Throw Me a Line

Throw me a line and pull me to shore. Take my hand and run with me. I know a place where magic never stops, the sun never sets, and we could laugh our way through the morning, curl up in a sunny corner, and watch the stars wake one by one.

Where there are moments of quiet happiness silent dreams echo through the valleys. The wind whispers promises and carresses you with its secrets. In these moments you and I would endure forever.

I could take you there if you'd let me.

A Little Bit

I'm sort of in love with my Spanish teacher.

She's extraordinarily petite and thin and carries the most abundant head of hair that I have ever seen.

She thinks I am talented and special. Isn't it amazing how sometimes it only takes someone of authority telling you that you are intelligent to sunddenly have the ability to imagine that you are? You are instantly legitimite and able. You are special. You are smart. You should continue your studies. And by you I mean me.

God, I love her.

I also love that she is always calm and radiates happiness.

No lies...I sort of want to be her.

So I am little bit excited about school. And a little bit excited about singing with a vocal group. And a bit excited that I got accetped to my study abroad program. And a little excited that I started a Mesa Espanola here in Anchorage and that it's been going really well. And that I've already been approved to return for 12 weeks next month as an intern. And that I got an A on both of my Spanish papers and exams. And that I may get to do an undergraduate research project next fall. With so many things to get a little bit excited about I'm starting to feel almost downright excited about getting up in the morning...and strangely....happy.


Also fun--my dream last night.

Normally I hate dreaming. But this was completely different. I dreamed I was making an incredible sandwich/breakfast burrito. And when I awoke this morning I discovered all the necessary ingredients awaiting in the frig. At work I couldn't stop thinking about going home and making the breakfast burrito for dinner.

Sometimes dreams really can come true.

Other times dreams hold frightening/enlightening/disturbing metaphors from which you can attempt to understand your life. More about this dream later.

Learning to Walk

Could I live in just one moment? Could I stop time and breathe through the past? Could I leave this place of changing leaves and rusting locks and bask in my moments of happiness?

I'm rusting too. And I would give anything to turn back. Learning to walk is too hard. Starting over is lonely.

Wigs

Hm. Can't quite get around obvious wigs. There are two bad wigs on the floor on which I work. Both unfortunate. Men go bald. Bald is better than a bad wig.

Bellingham, Northfield, Anchorage

What an insane week. I've been to Bellingham, back for two days, and then off to Northfield Minnesota for 5 days. Yay for traveling, but nay for bad planes and red eye flights. I really should have taken pictures in Northfield. St. Olaf's campus is gorgeous. Makes me maybe begin to slightly fathom paying near $40,000 a year tuition. Almost. It reminds me of a little village on a hill. Which is basically what it is. Since everyone is required to live on campus, the residence life has a much different feel to it. The older kids get segreated off in nicer dorms where supervision is low-key (aka non-existent). They have cute cafes and restaurants and nothing ever feels crowded.

It was my best friend Carrie's birthday. 21 years old! I got to see Carrie for five days which was amazing. I got to go to a bar, which was neat. And I played some amazing intoxicated scrabble which was also neat. I don't remember any of the words I put down. But I think it may be for the best.

I got to go to Carrie's private vocal lesson which was extremely cool. I'm so proud of what she has accomplished in music. Her friends were all very sweet and I got the feeling that I could fit in there.

Exciting news-excting news-I've basically been accepted into the NW Cadiz study abroad program! Woot!!!!! Within the next week or so I will know the final word. And then....only three months until I am off to Espana! Which means in about a month or so I'm off to San Fransico to apply for my student visa. The traveling will not stop! But now--it is time for shower, homework, dinner and sleep. What a whirl of a week. But I'm glad to be cozy at home.

Beautiful Midwest

People in the midwest are attractive. Maybe its all the Scandanavian genes. I don't know. But people are attractive here.

Disappeared

Sometimes there is nothing more filling that wrapping up in a blanket, switching on a lamp, opening a book, and appreciating the stillness around you. I'm finding more and more comfort in solitude. Taking time in the morning to lay for five minutes and look out my window or just listen to the sound of the wind. To watch a single, individual leaf for one minute. To quietly enjoy the soft pillow beneath my head, the hum of the heater, and the safe stillness of the flowers in my quilt.

The early morning commute to town. My hands on the smooth steering wheel as I sip my morning coffee. I drive through the changing leaves, the surrounding red mountains. The smell of fall is everywhere. Intoxicatingly crisp but laced with decay. The smell of dying leaves and the brisk morning air. It's a delicious nutty fragrance. Crunchy green lawns blanketed with yellow leaves. Kids waiting at the bus stop with their tuba cases and skinny legs.

I've been experiencing such moments of beauty lately, that I am reminded of a quote from one of my favorite books. A boy tells his brother that he wishes he could get away for a while. That if life were a bolt of cloth he snip out all the scary nights, all the unpleasant dreams and take only the best experiences and weave them together into a coat. I wish I could do the same. I wish I could take all my most beautiful memories, stitch them together into a giant coat, drape it around me, and live happy always.

Revisiting

So here I am. Back in Bellingham. But just for one day. Picking up the bits and pieces I can carry home and moving on with work and school and other plans. It's strange to revisit. I somehow get the feeling that I will never really fit in here. It was a stretch to start with. I know it wasn't because I am so unagreeable or unfriendly. Or that I didn't give it a shot. I simply know that this place wasn't right. And revisiting it sort of confirmed my thoughts. The idea of ever having to return seems unpleasant. Who knows, maybe after a year of being away I'll feel a little more warm towards thoughts of finishing my degree here. But right now, returning here has only made me feel better about leaving.

I'm frusterated at the age I am at. People say they are the best years of your life, but I look forward to moving past them. It's the time when you are the most selfish you will ever be. And as such, your peers surrounding you are a bunch of other selfish people. People are thinking about their goals and priorities. Their motivations and wants. And here I am, being selfish. Going abroad on an expensive trip, working too many hours at the office because the pay is good, walking away from any ties here and doing what I feel like when I want. It's empowering, liberating, satisfying - but hollow. Shallow. It is difficult for me to do things for myself. I'm out of practice. I mean, I do things I want to do. But I've never made big decisions like this in my life with complete disregard for how it might affect everyone else around me.

I'm so changed. Exposed to the uglier side of life for too long will do that to a person. And I hate that being more selfish and more self-involved is "the right step," the thing that everyone applauds. Oh well.

Basically, I am glad my day here is over. It makes me know I made the right choice. No swell of regret, no hesitency, or second thoughts. I thought the places around here would feel full of memory and meaning. But they don't. They are as empty to me now as they would have been full to me six months ago. It's amazing how so much can change so quickly. When you discover how wrong you were about the things that "mattered". All I see around this place is a young, foolish version of myself. Someone who entered college happy and with everything going for her and emerged depressed and unimpressed with what college revealed. And as I have changed and will continue to change, I know it is time to ship out. Maybe for good. All I can think about is how a simple night driving up my road and admiring the mountains fills me more than every sight in this city. But perhaps there will be more to discover.

Goodnight, yesterday.

Effortless

A few nights ago I felt overwhelmed by everything. Work was crazy, home life was crazy, and I was beginning to think that I was crazy for uprooting everything and moving back to Alaska. Going away to Europe for six months? Coming back to my parents house? In two days I had completely turned my life upside down. So I went for a drive. The streets were empty which is one thing I love about Eagle River. I drove up the valley and as I turned a corner looked towards the sillouhette of the mountains against the sky. It was the most beautiful sky I have ever seen. It looked like a painting, like something out of a fairy tale. The sky was a dark navy blue, the stars were glittering, and thin transparant clouds swirled among the twinkling lights. Like feathers and jewels strewn accross an deepm inky canvas. I was overcome by its beauty, overwhelmed by the fact that something so beautiful naturally and effortlessly exists. A wide smile was on my face and I felt warm tears stream down my cheeks. I had to pull over and stop my car. I felt overcome with gratitude to be exactly where I was at that exact moment in time. I was laughing and crying. Effortlessly, marvelously, excruciatingly happy. How amazing it is that such beauty exists simply for us to admire.

And I knew that I would be okay.

Naked Reading

I do love to read naked.

I don't know why, but it has become my recent Saturday morning obcession. I take a long shower and afterwards crawl into bed without clothing and read. Usually for about an hour. Sometimes I fall asleep, but I am usually up and no longer naked by about 10:30. So I allow the habit to continue. There is something about smelling fresh and being warm from the shower and curling up in bed. I don't know. But everyone should read naked (preferably within the privacy of their home). Today was the heart walk so I was deprived of my early morning ritual.

Cold. COLD. and very rainy. That's how the heart walk was. Afterwards I bought my mother a birthday present and then took a long warm shower...and oh my....read naked.

I Speak Too Soon

The planets did indeed align. But good lord. Spain had better be pretty amazing because what I am putting myself through now is not. 20-25 hours of work a week plus 4 classes and a correspondence course.

And then there is that one little detail I decided to solve after I completely rearranged my life. Where I would live. I figured, "Oh I'll find something decent around town for four or six months."

WRONG.

Renting in Anchorage is TERRIBLE. I mean...really, really QUITE bad. I went and looked at some apartments last weekend. They make me shiver just thinking about them. Shifty, dirty hallways. Damp, dingy smelling rooms. Broken down appliances. And all this can be YOURS for just $700!

Kill me. If I want to rent anything nice it's going to cost me a pretty penny. $900 or more. And flexible leases are tricky to swing.

I know a lot of friends that are living at home for a while to save money. I wish I could be one of those kids. But I cannot survive here. I will wilt. My family doesn't eat edible food. And I actually mean that. I'm not too picky. Welcome to the land of insta-food. Cup of noodles, easy mac, soup at hand...where is the actual food? Well there are a few tv dinner's in the frig f you are REALLY hungry.

There is one one living room and it is constantly inhabitated. My room is the size of a shoebox. If I leave my room I am bombarded by constant inquiries about my life and school and my feelings. When I come home from 6 hours of work and 4 hours of school I have nothing to say. Nothing. I want to eat something to eat something that is indeed food, take a run around the block, do my studying, and go to bed. I don't have time for "So is that class going to be really hard?" "Have you figured out your transcripts yet?' "Did you call that program coordinator?" "What? You won't be here for dinner?" Yes. No. Yes. Not enough time. Yes! No! LEAVE ME ALONE! I don't even have enough time in my normal day to make a phone call let alone figure every single detail of my life out. I eat while running errands and make phone calls while driving through traffic. I am that person that doesn't have a single moment to think, breathe, do anything until I walk in the door of the house at 6:00. So for god's sake. I know all of you haven't been going for over ten hours but some people have. I absolutely have to find somewhere to live. 4.5 months. I can do this. It is worth it. Save me.

And the Plants Aligned

Sometimes life pulls you in a different direction.

A relationship that was deeply important to me did not work out. There. I said it.

But from this blunderous summer I believe I have managed to create something beautiful. I will not be returning to Western Washington this year. And sure, part of it has to do with my recent breakup. But more importantly, by not returning to Western I will be giving myself the opportunity to go abroad. I have wanted to go abroad for a very long time. I never knew how to afford going abroad while going to Western, or how to hold on to a lease while abroad for half of the year. And I admit, I was in a relationship that I didn't want to risk loosing over going away from several months. Now that relationship is over and I realize how silly it was to ever let it hold me back.

So I thought...alright. I'm going. It's now or never-I only have one year left until I graduate. So I would have to go Spring semester. That means I would be able to go to Western for one quarter before I leave. I would set up my apartment and buy furniture for it just to be leaving in two and a half months. The odds of someone subletting my place for winter and spring are less likely then if I put it up for rent now.

And then I thought long and hard about it. Practically, it makes more sense for me to stay a semester at UAA. I need the money. But I didn't really want to stay at UAA. And I really thought I was too late. Classes from UAA started Monday and it was already Thursday. So I decided I would only stay at UAA for a semester under the following conditions: I can keep working part-time at VECO, I can register for things that I need at UAA without really transfering, and that my apartment quickly was rented.

Step one: part-time job at VECO. Within an hour I was approved by the president of the company for up to twenty hours a week on the intern pay-scale (and by intern pay scale I mean chi-ching chi-ching). I get to pick my own hours and they are moving me into a nice, new workspace.

Step two: sublet the apartment. I was flooded by calls an hour after I posted the apartment on craigslist. A wonderful girl that has already rented from my property mangement company called and told me that she had seen the inside of the studio I am renting out and would love to take over the lease. I called my property management company and they told me that she was a good friend of the manager of my building and that there shouldn't be a problem approving her. She has agreed to pay in full for the deposit and told me that she would contact me first if she ever was moving out to see if I would like the apartment back.

Step three: contact UAA. They told me I was still in their system and required no transcript from me. They let me sign up for all the upper-division classes I needed.

And within two days it was all settled: work, apartment, and classes. I registered on Thursday and went to school that evening. And once I arrived I discovered an old friend of mine in the class. And as I drove home that night there was an enormous, perfect rainbow across Eagle River Valley. What a cheesy good omen.

I've already gotten in touch with some friends that are still in Eagle River. And it is wonderful to sit and talk with familiar people that are from the same place I am. This morning I sat in the coffee shop and flipped through my new textbooks and got the most overwhelming feeling that I am doing exactly what I am supposed to be doing.

It's been a while since the planets have aligned for me. But I've had this feeling before. Good things will follow.

Remembering

I remember the first time I realized my dad was growing old. I could see new red lines in his eyes. His once clear grey eyes were now shiny pools of liquid framed by thick, heavy, lashless lids. The redness in his face blending together with the redness in his eyes. He looked cloudy, the sharpness of his gaze had dimmed. His face looked dry and tired but his step was still strong, his movements animated. His hands flitted about when he talked. His posture very straight. His gait happy and energetic. He will always spend his life looking at the way the wind carries a leaf, tracking the sunsets and sun rises, and imagining a more idealistic place and time.

I remember as my mom drove me up the driveway on a crisp fall day. My oversized jeans were tucked into my red salavation army cowboy boots and my hair was secured in two skinny braids. My wispy blonde bangs stood straight up in the wind and I clutched my tattered second-hand horseback riding helmet eagerly. The boots were beautiful. The stained hat was perfect. The leaves were shockingly yellow and the sky was impossibly blue. Or at least that's how I remember it.

I remember the smell of the first day of school. New clothes, new erasers, new backpacks, pencil shavings, books, folders, and lunchboxes. The smell of fresh rubber and plastic and construction paper. I itched in stiff new clothes and shoes. And every first day of school is preserved in my mind as sunny, even though I am sure they were not.

I remember hiding. I hid in my closet. Under my bed. In the backyard. In my tree fort. In the dog house. Under the porch. In my clothes hamper. In the crawl space. I was never hiding from anyone and nobody was ever looking for me. They never even knew that I was hiding. The minute I was called I would dash from my secret place quickly and carefully. Never to once be missing, but always hiding. There was something comforting in escaping. Something special about the places I escaped to. And I could sit for hours in my hiding spot. Never bored or lonely. Not even a book to amuse me. Just the freedom to think alone and the wonder of feeling disappeared.

I remember rocking on the porch late on a summer evening. It was late at night but it felt like early morning. One leg crossed the other dangling, I gently rocked the chair and watched the strange, muted sunset. I felt like I could sit there forever, a green and white cotton blanket wrapped around my shoulders. And the space around me felt so full and comforting that I didn't notice I was alone, or that it was late into the night, and that the tapping of my foot on the porch was the only sound to be heard. It wasn't quiet, or cold, and it wasn't isolating. The house behind me faded into the background and all I saw was the gentle and subtle movements of the green leaves on the birch tree, the fullness of the clouds, the emptiness of neighborhood streets, and the slow loss of daylight. Maybe it was the quiet that was so consuming, but I was full and content.

My Favorite Place

This weekend I dragged myself out of Eagle River and into Palmer. I've always loved Palmer. I've never actually lived there but something about it has always felt like home. There isn't really a lot to do there--you can go to the grocery store and have dinner at the handful of restaurants in town...but something about the air, the scenery, the roads, the houses...Palmer has always felt a little bit like home.

I visited my dad's old family friends. I started horseback riding when I was 9. I ride Icelandic horses, a rare and specialized form of riding. Conveniently, when I was about 14, my dad's best friend's wife, Virginia went to Iceland and came back with 9 horses. I got to ride them as often as I liked.

They moved about thirty minutes outside of Palmer a few years back. The hour and fifteen minute drive made it difficult for me to help keep the horses in shape. I sort of fell out of the Icelandic horseback riding loop. But there are few days that pass in which I don't think about riding. It sounds silly, but as I walk through campus I can imagine the feeling of the Icelandic tolt. I can hear the four-beated rythym and feel the reins in my hands. And no matter how many months it has been between ridings, it is always natural, always the same when I go back to Palmer. I believe that it is my true passion. It is unfortunately a time-intensive and costly interest. Every time I make the drive to Palmer I think about how long it is. But once I get there, I am always stunned by the sheer beauty of Virginia's property. On a sunny day it feels like something out of a dream. You're on top of a hill in a vast open field surrounded by mountains. The colors of the green fields against the purple mountains are breathtaking. From the other side of her property you look out over Matanuka River. Full of color and space and dimension...it is my favorite place in the world.

The trail riding there is unbelievable. Racing through the fields at impossible speeds is like flying. It's not bumpy or frightening. The faster I press on, the smoother it becomes and every single thought or worry from my head is gone. I'm sure if I were to fall off at such a speed the consequences would be disastrous. But worriesone, cautious, nervous me never even considers the possibility. It's like leaving everything behind for a moment. You're traveling too fast for your own worries to catch up with you. And for just one minute you can run from everything and towards anything you want. You can run down to the creek or up the road, through the fields and down to the lower pasture. All that matters is where you turn your eyes to next and that is where you will go.

That's what I love about riding. For a moment in time I am effortlessly happy. I cannot help but feel entirely delighted. And every memory I have of riding is vivid and wonderful. It's amazing to discover something in your life that can make you feel that way. But it's equally hard to have to leave it behind. At college there aren't any Icelandic horses. When I go abroad to Spain or Costa Rica there won't be Icelandic horses. When I become a teacher it will be a long while before I can pay of my student loans and afford an Icelandic horse and the property to accomodate it. It seems like all of my goals and aspirations take me far away from what I really love. But education is important and I need to make a good career for myself...so I guess riding can wait. Sometimes I am tempted to finish school in Alaska so I can buy a horse and train. I fled from Alaska thinking that the rest of the world would be bigger, better, and more exciting. And while sometimes going into a city can be fun I am constantly thinking about home, Palmer, and the different Alaskan lifestyle. Washington just seems busier, crowded, and impersonal. I was right, everything is bigger. But I realize more and more that I like our quiet grocery store and the coffee shop where everybody knows your name.

When I hike alone and go horseback riding alone in Alaska I never feel lonely. Wandering through downtown Bellingham and Fairhaven alone makes me feel lonely. Solitude in Alaska is comforting while in Washington uncomfortable. I'm not quite sure why. Time away from Alaska has made me realize this. But at the same time, the summer in Alaska is intoxicating. I've been seeing on the best of Alaska for the past three years. I used to hate the winters. They are dark and long. But I remember them also as cozy. And beautiful.

Someday I'll figure out where I want to be. I've always been a bit of a waderer. I hate flying but love traveling and I rarely actually get "homesick" I think in Bellingham it's that I'm sick of the place that I have chosen to make my new home. I miss the space and the mountains. Last year I started thinking about my favorite place more and more. How wonderful it would be to not be so far away from it.

Hello, Blogspot!

Hello, Blogspot.
I have reluctantly left my xanga site of 4 years. I needed a blogging area that looked a little snazzier. So blogspot, I hope we will work together. In the coming posts I will get to know you, so it's only fair that I tell you a little about me.

My interests include writing little poems, attending informational functions, conversations with kindly humans, drawing pictures, creating delicious baked goods, dancing, googling random questions, hiking, libraries, speaking spanish, and finding amusement in the awkward nature of life.

I currently work at a large corporate office in a department called Business Development. My duties largely include developing company business. This entails attending large functions where I am paid to smile while eating wilted salads and hideous entrees. I will miss this when I return to college in the fall.

For the third year in a row I will contine to pay exorbitant amounts of money to attend a college out of state. But since I am also paid an extortionate hourly wage to eat wilted salads and prepare mass mailings all summer long, I have managed to secure a comfortable life style. Well...not really. I have enough money to pay for school and maybe buy a pair of new shoes before I go. If they are on sale. At Wal-mart.

I am at the uncomfortable age of 20. My friends go out and party in the bars and clubs every weekend and most weeknights. I complain that they lack the creativity to plan non-bar events (i.e. something I could attend), but to be honest... if I were 21, that is likely what I would be up to. So whatever. House parties and lunch dates and good books and movies. Enough to keep anyone busy. But 20 is an awkward age, especially when most of your friends are older than you.

Well, gosling blogspot, we shall see. Nobody knows that you exist except for me. And we may just keep it that way.