choked.

There's something significant about a year. I have, for a long time, thought myself to be well versed in short-term relationships, not long-term ones.

I somewhat tragically blame this situation on what began on a certain December evening back in 2002. It was my first semester of college, fresh out of high school, fresh into an academic system which included males. I was a kid then, I really was. And the snippets that remain are movie-esque. The cold, a strange house downriver, the jeep, white sheets in the morning sun. So maybe now it's coming full circle, my first semester of college and then my last, 5 years...

Maybe that's why I've felt so ashamed about those 4 years between, trying to find what I had found that December night. The seduction, the games, the disposability. Carelessness. In recent years I learned to refine my "skill," the longer to play the game the better you get at it (but it's still always just as painful). Perhaps that's why I told myself after getting the Norwegian I had nothing left to prove. You always reach a point of finding the next step.

And I let go. That freedom, a fault? Stepping back, stepping up. "Don't get stuck in South Africa unless you're sure you want to." (I don't think he understood how relevant that phrase would be a year after he said it to me.) I don't know this game, I don't know what's supposed to happen after two months-- how much do I give my heart away?

But I know. It's too late. I already did. It's true, the uncertainty. A month, four months, a year, (never?).... it doesn't matter, it would still be breaking. This thought fucks with my head. Because I don't want another SFB1; where even now I freeze, I'm consumed at the thought that I might see him again.

I choked. I'm beyond my experience.

I'm frightened by how quickly a year goes by.

the West.

8 states in 5 days is quite the accomplishment. (Texas, California, Nevada, Arizona, Utah, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming)

Arriving in LA jetlagged, famished, and dazed were mere excuses for behaving oddly at an indie art opening. Complete with cotton candy and mini brownie muffins I sipped sangria as I gazed at the beautiful people mingling. Such is LA.

Staying with JR is to be expected, a silly white cat that's shaved except for a mohawk running down its spine, some pinkberry, and continuing aristocratic tendencies. That is, of course, minus the night spent at BE's work, where I slept for a mere 4 hours on the boss's couch and drooled on his pillow. Oops. Then, in the morning, I rode the razor scooter around the office before the Frenchie whisked me off to Santa Monica where I watched an old man wearing a skin colored thong tanning in the shade of palm trees (???).

What is to ensue is a long day in the car, entering 4 states. The discovery of satellite radio in the rental, driving by Vegas (the random oasis in the middle of...nowhere?), and perhaps being the only person for miles wearing a long sleeved shirt in the desert. To follow was a cramped evening in Days Inn with a 6am wake up call and hitting the road once again.

Idaho surprisingly reminds me of South Africa. Montana is a cool state. And Wyoming is wide open spaces. Yellowstone is just like the history books-- or at least the first day is. Buffalo grazing next to a river, pole pines, deer, moose. Geysers, hot springs, mud pots... steaming into the brisk air that reminds me of the midwest in the fall. The second day was much different, minus the sun, snow covers pine trees and the wind through their needles reminds me of Christmas. (it must be those childhood memories). I concluded that Old Faithful, the grand tourist attraction, is like graduating college: anti-climactic. The canyon in the snow, unable to feel my fingers, the rushing waterfall, nature splendidly at its best.

Arriving at our overly large log cabin at the base of the Grand Tetons was definitely childhood again, bounding through the rooms, "I want this one!" and standing in awe of the views I get to wake up to in the mornings. Today, hiking around Jenny lake and up into Teewinot-- spectacular. Being out again, nestled between lake and river, gazing up to glaciers in the mountains, perhaps something like South Africa but perhaps only in my mind because those were my first true hiking experiences. Perhaps the highlight was the snow halfway to inspiration point. Watching clouds roll between mountain peaks and flurries catching my eyelashes. Hands tucked into my sleeves and gazing up at summits covered in clouds.

Maybe it's these vast open spaces that leave me perplexed about life and relationships. Maybe it's what I need to feel some emotion again-- some time away. Perhaps a few less words and a few more thoughts.

sunflower; where is the light?

Today as I was folding clothes I was thinking about how I write much less than I used to. In high school I used to write in my journal almost daily-- how lovely it was to have a log of what I had done. Now, I think 'oh I should write that down' but then I never end up actually getting to my black book or my blog. It's disappointing in the least.

One Thursday several weeks ago Jin and I were sitting on the sparse grass on campus when DW just happened to be walking past. I shouted a hello and he walked over to say hi. He about summed up my general overall sense of graduation, "so, how was the biggest anti-climax of your life?" he inquired. I don't think I could have worded it much better.

Graduation-- the actual ceremony, listening to Bill Clinton speak, being in the stadium (for the first time ever)-- it was all, well, what I could imagine it to be. I'm reminded of a convo I had with Louis (my 325 prof) several months earlier, where, even then, I knew college wasn't all that I expected it to be when I was a kid. "But I always thought I would leave college with a 'genius' status" rather than with 2 horses, a boyfriend from a different continent, and my first C+.

Don't get me wrong, college was amazing. I understand the AP pretentious thing, I'll even admit to sometimes behaving in such a way-- but having attended 2 other schools I also understand how fucking difficult UM can be at times. Classes, hot poetry professor, being the worst political scientist ever, living at owen, perhaps even all of the drunken making out. Salzburg, Italy, South Africa. My one piece of advice for college would be: study abroad. Living in a far off country with the 'crutch of school' (because school will always be familiar, and having that set-school-schedule makes the 'culture shock' much more manageable) provides an invaluable learning experience. The RSA gave me some of my best college memories.

Life post-graduation was to be expected: horses. I've been not-so-actively marketing my ponies but it doesn't so much bother me that there hasn't been much interest. I don't really want to sell them (even though I know that I need to) but I'm quite enjoying the idea of showing little R this summer, and having the little girls show little E. I spent a long weekend in Indiana with S-Bear and Biscut at the FEI Jr/Yr clinic with George Williams. Mingling with people who have so much money they're not quite sure what to do with it can be intimidating, but in the realm of horses even more so... at least for me. By the end of the weekend everyone warmed up to each other (and stopped judging us based on our horse's breed) and, low-and-behold, I found some new facebook friends.

This past week AVH rocked up from the great land of retired people. We had a whirlwind of 3 days (was it really only 3 days?), spent 2 on the west side of the state. I think that if I had any lingering infatuation (it's under speculation as to whether it existed during the March visit) it dissolved by the May visit. I love this boy. That sums it up.

Sometimes I wonder if life will ever slow down. I should write more often.

excuse me.

we did it in the stacks.

yep. that's right. i did it in the grad library.


oh yes.