I dislike creamy substances.

Like lotion.

I was led to begin this train of thought while I brushed my teeth and examined my swollen finger. I'm beginning to wonder if my stomach parasites are going to make a grand finale exit through the index finger on my right hand. That thought is mildly disturbing but would make a great story, somewhere along the lines of the time I sold my flip flops on campus to a 40-something year old guy.

Anyhow, thinking about my gimpy finger led me to thinking about hands which led me to thinking about lotion... and how much I hate it.

I'm not quite sure when my loathing for lotions began. I feel that it came somewhere between the point where I discovered makeup to be a useless commodity in my life and handsoap to be a blessing. I do believe that at one point the dermatologist attempted to define my ailment with some technical name and give me mental peace with a prescription for some high tech lotion (which, by the way, I did fill but then I ended up never using and then throwing away.) I vaguely remember telling them at the follow-up appointment that their prescription was useless to me and that I was going to take the 'no action' route.

I do have to be honest that my hands are worse in the winter and that sometimes I do break down and utilize some type of moisturizing product. However, I find that when people such as Food Snob (who doesn't have normal skin on his hands anyways) begin pressurizing me on the subject I become less inclined to remedy the issue.

Actually what it all boils down to is the fact that I greatly dislike any creamy lotioning substance that remotely has any smell to it. Bleh, whether it's old lady scented or fruity or shimmery or pale pink I hate it, hate it, hate it! I also find that I dislike the wet feeling that can linger for up to 10 minutes after applying, it cramps my style and makes opening jars difficult.
...and turning doorknobs becomes nearly impossible!

Thus I have concluded that although I dislike creamy lotioning substances I still find delight in other creamy substances (oh god, it sounds terrible!) such as: whipped cream (heh.), tirimisu, Gary's chicken and creamy mushroom sauce, mum's corn potato chowder, and hair conditioner.

Bless my lucky little stars.

Besides several somewhat minor irritating annoyances (dying car, shin splints, lack of funds, AP starting, etc) life has been pretty decent (despite the fact that AVH is missing from it).

Got myself out on a sailboat for.the.first.time.since.being.home. Glorious. Like all things American the process was much more organized than anything ever was in ZA. Big K (the club caretaker) sent me out on a JY15 with a talkative gal, my "instructor", who proceeded to dump at least three novels full of information and terms on me. I sat there staring at her as she maneuvered the boat around the lake until she finally looked at me and said, "did you get all of that?" I just kinda laughed, telling her that I ride horses and it's basically the same thing. (ok, ok yes I told her that but I followed it with: you can tell me all the technical stuff but until I feel what it's supposed to feel like I won't ever really know.) Then we broke the boat and she freaked out. If she only knew the things we did in ZA. Henceforth, my new observation is that Americans are up-tight.

Had DM's kids over for one night and it was great because the sisters were together again. We spent the afternoon gallivanting around town, trying to find fairy doors, and eating ice cream before dinner (shhh!). Rented a movie after dinner, the only restriction being that it couldn't be a cartoon. Gave my bed up to them for the evening, found myself pleased to be on the second floor so I could hear the rain on the roof. Then spent the next morning in our pajamas lying on my bed talking about (little) girly things.

This morning Felicita and I had a 'coming to Jesus' ...meaning we both had fun. (imagine that!) I was so pleased with my ride, as was DM, that we attempted to start scheming a way to convince The Boss into letting me take her horse to The Working Student Position of a Lifetime after I graduate. But, in reality, that will probably never happen. So I'll just dream on.

Received my first real mail from the RSA and flopped onto my bed with delight to read it. Then I concluded that the joys of receiving non-bill-related postage are underrated.

It's actually cold enough that I can drink Rooibos without sweating my face off. My mum suggests that I should just not drink tea when it's 85F and 100% humidity but I tell her that 1) I'm addicted and 2) it makes me think of ZA and that makes me happy. (oh and 3) it's good for you).

Today the AP did one of the best things it could do for me this semester: change the professor of my required pre-req class (yeah, that's right, to the major I'm almost finished with) to my most favorite professor. The enormity of this change is larger than I could ever convey. Oh bless my little 8:30am course, I now have reason to get out of bed to make it on time!

To top it off, last week the academic advisor not-so-much-of-doom not only approved my Politics course from The Adventure of a Lifetime, she also gave me a concentration release form. I said, what's that? She said the end is near. I smiled. That's kinda frightening.

So with that, what should I do when I'm not in Academic Prison anymore?
(that's the question of the year, I'm now accepting bids.)

Back in the saddle (sores) again.

I absolutely adore thunderstorms, except for when I'm attempting to retrieve ponies from the field and fearing for my life in 2 ways: 1) that lightening will strike me down and 2) that said horse/pony/animal larger than myself will run me over in fear of thunder. One of two items happened today, 2 animals larger than myself (oh kind, smart horses) wanted to end up on top of me. We had some moments of me saying 'sorry dear, you're too big to fit on my lap' and them saying 'save me! save me!' Fortunately I have no broken toes. So I am reminded that I need to rephrase my statement: I adore thunderstorms when I'm snuggled in bed (with a cute boy).

In the horse realm I had a somewhat revolutionizing ride on Nick today. He has progressed further in life than I have in the past six months; meaning that I only need to wollup (that's a technical term) him every 2 minutes instead of every minute. We had several moments of him saying, 'no I don't wanna!' and me saying 'sorry, you haveta!' But he has still come a long way. Riding him puts me in an entirely different frame of mind, I love the way I'm forced to constantly stay focused on every small detail of where my body is and what it's doing.

And to top it off I have a saddle sore the size of a knee band-aid. It's not only the shape of one, it feels like there was a band-aid there, one that was ripped off taking skin along with it. So perhaps it's a good thing I'm not being sexually satisfied because it's on my crotch and there's no other way to describe it then: it fucking hurts.

(also from past experience I've learned that cases such as these don't progress at the normal healing rate of any skin abrasion. The healing of such a saddle sore requires eliminating riding for a minimum of one week's time, and let's be honest, that's not going to happen. Right.)

Today I attempted to fill out a job application. I felt like I was applying to AP (Academic Prison). I felt the similarities were so strong that I actually pulled out the copies of my AP applications and read through them. Honestly. And in the end? I STILL don't have the application finished.

Rocked home after DM spent 10 minutes trying to convince me that I need a horse. I'm.too.poor.to.buy.a.horse. She's really, really pushing for it though. Says something about how I have so much talent and yadda yadda. In the end I let myself be convinced to go with her to THE trainer in the Midwest and talk with her about finding a horse to buy, ride, steal. I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to pay for AP. I think someone should just give me a horse, that would solve the whole issue.

And so as J said tonight: your life consists of horses and writing.

I think I'm kinda happy with that.

Sorry I came without an invitation- just wanted to be loved.

Last night I cried myself to sleep. I'm frustrated and disconnected and feeling lost.

I once remember telling myself never again, not after I spent months in what I think of as a blackhole; a section of my life where I only remember feeling horrible and broken and doing things I would have never done if I had been 'normal'. Where there are slideshows of moments that are so vivid that they were placed in the nightmare category, less by choice then by necessity.

But it has been four years since then. A lot changes in four years.

I never left seeking to be in this situation. So when I think about the future and get all confused and slightly worried I have to force myself to not think that far ahead (this is probably good). Finishing AP (Academic Prison) will happen faster than I am imagining at this moment.

I guess I'm frustrated because talking to you has always made me feel better, (even that first conversation) and last night I felt as though there were a gap and that worries me.

Gah, I know that none of this is logical. But there's part of me that doesn't care because I like the way I felt/feel. And, well, sometimes life itself isn't logical.

Maybe it's that I don't want to let go of that section of my life. It was already disconnected in the first place.

I didn't sleep well last night and this morning I woke up feeling the residue of already-forgotten dreams (about you).

Isn't that the way life is sometimes....?

Some things I had forgotten.

Like how much I adore pickled green beans. I became one of those people who eats them out of the jar with a fork. It seems to me like a slightly random thing to indulge in, but satisfying nonetheless.

Along those lines I'm reminded of the time that for my birthday several years ago my parents gave me an olive boat as a gift. Olive boat. Interesting indeed. I vaguely remember opening the box and thinking "what is this? My parents are going crazy." But in retrospect it's actually a neat kitchen accessory to have, if you're a culinary genius. I'm sure it will add value to my dinner parties when I get older.

I also have this thing for Garden Fresh salsa, the not-too-spicy kind. I remember during my somewhat successful cooking career at Owen last year I created a peach salsa that was similar but not nearly as professional (ya know, stupid food budget). Just like that mango bean salsa, although, it became somewhat mundane after becoming a weekly staple in my South African diet.

There's also the R.O. water. Better than anything I've ever tasted, or at least it would be if it tasted like something. I'm unsure of how I survived without it, especially when Obs water tasted like a pool. Mmmm pooooool.

And, well, I never forgot exactly how much I love watermelon, I just forgot how delicious it tastes.

This reminds me, in elementary school it seemed to be a tradition to bring in cupcakes or something of the sort on your birthday. Well, when I was in kindergarden I requested not a cake, brownies, or cookies from my mother, I requested large platters of fruit. I think I was probably the only kid in the history of Mrs. Tyler's kindergarden teaching career (which was probably at least 20 years) to bring in fruit for their birthday.

Speaking of which, I decided that if I could have a smoothie every day of my life I would be one happy woman.

Looking over the edge of a cliff.

(I have blisters on my hands from pulling weeds.)

I don't mean to perpetuate my angst, confusion, this feeling of wandering that I've recently become accustomed to after The Adventure. It feels abnormal to not have a somewhat logical thought process. Should I decide how much I'm going to invest into this or should I just follow my feelings?

(I'm surprised I don't have poison ivy.)

Last night's conversation left me feeling as if I were standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to be pushed off. And now the fear has set in. As much as I would prefer not to think it I've become convinced that I've set myself up for, well, a failure of sorts. So I refuse to talk about it but such a big part of me wants to know something that is certain. Except nothing seems to be, like usual.

(I hate mosquitos.)

Or maybe it will just slip away slowly and I will never realized the exact point where it happened.

Cape Town seemed so simple.

Part of the family, once again.

I can feel it slipping away. It's back to routine, back to everyone wanting a little piece, back to running around.

I rode today and it was amazing. I was impressed that I was able to get Felicita into a 2nd level frame, it's difficult for her. It's so easy to remember why I love riding and why I feel like I need to always have horses in my life, it makes me so happy.

In some ways it's comforting though. This evening it was just like being back in the Adopted Family; where the kids think I'm their older sister and we make milkshakes, remember times passed, and move furniture. So it's back into the swing, gossiping, talking horses and horror stories. Dinners and lemonade, Sunday morning breakfast and maybe even church (I haven't been in years, it would probably be good for me to go).

And so when I think I have it together so well I get into my car to drive home and I try not to let images of three weeks ago play through my head because my eyes begin to burn and I feel pathetic. But it's dark and cloudy and I have the windows open and it dries my face.

I keep looking for answers even though I know there aren't any that I can find.

An ode...to my life. (on a Wednesday night)

Yesterday I was struck with the sudden fear that my life is becoming the same as it was before I left on The Adventure of a Lifetime.

This thought side-slammed me as I laid on the floor of a $1.2 million dollar McMansion somewhere on the South side of town. So the houses may be big and trendy and well adored but they're still all the same; I mean the stereotypical American 2.5 kids and 1.2 dogs or whatever those statistics are these days. I guess the different thing about this house is that it wasn't only big, it was empty. I would never live in a McMansion by myself, not only is it depressing it's wasteful, and just plain weird. Anyhow, the result of said excursion was the de-ghettoization of my crippled laptop. A complete refurbishing of busted keyboard and battery including a peep into the guts which were very much intact despite the 8 foot shelf that was held up by three screws that raped the darn thing. (my landlord: what were you thinking putting stuff on the shelf? me: well, what's the point of having a shelf if you can't put stuff on it?!) Perhaps part of the success of the sturdiness of the computer can be attributed to the fact that Previous Owner made the thing stay together with superglue. I think that means the laptop indefinitely assumes a ghetto standing.

In all things unexpected I received a phone call from the RSA. I looked at my phone in confusion for two rings as I tried to decipher the number, I still fear receiving phone calls from girls whose boyfriends I've been in acquaintance with. Much to my surprise and delight it was AVH (whom I should rename 'Knight in Shining Armor'). General elation follows for the duration of the conversation (despite the several tears) and a slightly sheepish smile remains glued to my face throughout dinner with my mum.

Then I wrote a sonnet (per my definition, which coincidently is nothing like a sonnet, or at least that's what my mum says) to my room. After inhabiting a space the size of a shoe box for nearly six months I felt that it was time to show my appreciation for the princess bed of fluffiness and functioning stereo system. I giggled to myself so much while I composed it that my mum asked me if I was looking at porn. (sheez!) The piece comes complete with photos and several parts are illustrated with yellow sticky notes. What can I say? Me in all my glory.

Guilty pleasures.

Somewhat secretly I've taken to listening to music from the classic musicals. And singing it. Outloud.

I was thinking of this because I realized how much I miss cuddling. And I remembered the one day I was with AVH on his bed, peering down at him and I suddenly felt it was necessary to sing "Think of Me" (Phantom of the Opera). It was beautiful. (ok, not my singing, but the moment)

I'm so impressed at the way a phone call can make me feel *that* much better about life. Really. Amazing. And so once again the situation doesn't seem so bad.

Had coffee again with B tonight. She patiently listened to me gushing nonsense about my life and all the crazy things I've decided I not only want to do but think I need to do. She's going to be my sex therapist, if I ever need one, because she says that's what she's going to be when she grows up. Then we talked about all the girls we went to high school with that have babies and I became frightened (as I typically do when the topic of babies arises).

I have neglected to mention that I had one of my best experiences with the Perseid meteor shower whilst we were Up North. That somewhat geeky side of me was revealed as I struggled to get the Celestron (telescope) to 'work with me'. While I pointed out constellations I quickly located Jupiter but spent at least five minutes attempting to find the moon through the lens. Yeah, serious.

*sigh* I miss you! (but it's good to know that I'm not the only one in that boat)

Clouds and clear water, Michigan ain't so bad.

Weekend trips were much more exciting in South Africa.

Ok, so I came to this realization this weekend as I laid on the dock on Glen Lake sipping a mojito and admiring the Caribbean-like blue water. I decided that I can't continue to live the rest of this year comparing this state to that country so I compiled a list of things that I like and dislike about the state of Michigan, this is what I came up with.

Perhaps it's more beautiful than I give it credit for. I mean, we've got all those lakes and think of all those sailboats on those lakes. Having lakes like oceans (where you can't see the other side) is a great thing, fresh water means no sharks and no salt which makes my skin dry; plus said lakes are (kinda?) much warmer than some larger bodies of water. We have lots of trees that become pretty colors during autumn. We have a speed limit of 70mph. Thunderstorms. We're not Ohio. The weather can be nice for, like, 2 months a year. Ok well, and I suppose the snow is neat when it's fresh and doesn't look all dirty from the city and cars. My mother has cultivated a lovely garden with enough tomatoes to feed our entire family with tomato-related dinners for a month. The path next to the river somewhat encourages me to jog.

BUT there are also nagging things you can't avoid, like mosquitos. Lots of them. Wanting to bite me. The fact that for the most part it's flat, really flat. Boys and their stupid fancy cars with loud music. Corn fields (could we be any more like Ohio?). Humidity. Another year of school (this directly relates because if I didn't have school there's a possibility I would be somewhere else).

See? So logically because my pros list is much longer than my cons list one would think I wouldn't have much reason to complain. I can't outright say, "well, it's not Cape Town" or "it's not Seattle" or "AVH isn't here." The point is that it's all so much the same....I find myself taking a deep breath, knowing that I have a lot to figure out in my life over the next year.


[By the way, I'm allowed to bash Ohio because I'm half Ohio-in.]

"Up North" was nice though. I (still) continued to crawl through "Love in the Time of Cholera," fell asleep reading it no matter how hard or soft my sitting surface was. Kayaked around the lake, arms burning. Tried to catch a turtle but it was too quick for us, instead fished a green plastic watering-can and a blue rope out of the lake. Went for an 8 mile bike ride around the lake and didn't die. The water was even warm enough for me to swim in.

JR and I discussed weight issues as she complained that my boobs got bigger. (complained! can you believe it?) I told her I got bigger in general so it didn't matter. Eh the stresses of being a female.


I'm impressed with my ability to sound so up-beat and happy. This evening after we arrived home I sat on the floor of my room, surrounded by mess and began to cry. I haven't cried about leaving in a handful of days. "Kingdom Come" (Coldplay) snuck into my playlist and I was dragged back to nights in AVH's room when he would sing that song. And so between piles of yet-to-be-folded clothes I covered my face with my hands and cried.

"Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you, I've waited all these years"

Oh those days....

comfortably numb.

I wore a pink shirt and a skirt the other day.
Then last night I painted my toe nails pink.
(this is not normal)

I'm in a funny place. It's odd to know that some people I'm close to aren't really a phone call away. There are factors: time changes, service problems, costs. Stuff like this frustrates me.

Spending time at The Barn has probably been good for me. And it certainly is nice to get back in the saddle, but in many ways it frustrates me and I sense that I won't ride as much because of finances and lack of equine partners. I have some big decisions to make in that department.

AVH creeps into my mind quite often. (as should be expected) Emails don't provide comfort, it's tough when I know he isn't good with words in the first place. Or at least words that are supposed to describe feelings that relate to me. I'm fully capable of letting that sinking feeling consume me (to be logical I should just let it because I can't find answers to why this crazy stuff happened in the first place) but I've kept magnificent mental sanity by transfering my energy into making weepy playlists on iTunes and trying to write letters. But I still think AVH is worthy of consuming my thoughts.

Heading up north tomorrow with the telescope to revive my astronomy skills.

hi.