I'm in a hurricane.

Little Rowan is hurt. As if I didn't have enough drama in my life.

Sunday he came out lame (non-horse language translation: gimpy) on both front legs.

Sunday night emergency vet call: $100
Monday afternoon farm call: $25
A set of 8 xrays: $200
A bottle of DMSO/Cortizone: $40
A set of 4 horse shoes: $175
Having my vet at home look at the xrays: $78
Mailing xrays to vet at home: $11

Not having enough money to eat: priceless.

Who needs weight watchers when you have DCI, FL?

But really, I hope this is nothing serious. Surgery for Rowan means we're both heading North earlier than planned.

There's no "un".

Even though that is the case I truly feel as though I have a little more peace.

And really, at this point, I couldn't ask for much more.

Vacations come and gone too late.

On my plane ride south I sat next to a man who told me that traveling and living somewhere else really forces you appreciate home. But the thing is that I already knew that. And I already appreciate home, perhaps much more than I ever let on.

Going home was important. It grounded me. It planted the seed that maybe it's time to start getting ready to go back to school. My mom says that I always liked being a big fish in the little sea, I guess that's what A2 is to me. A little sea. (it wasn't always that way though)

The sun through the leaves. That bright yellow maple outside my window. Maybe some of these lessons aren't my own, maybe they're meant to be for others.

Postmarked 10.23.06

07.31.06

Well, sometimes I do things without knowing why I do them... as in it just feels like something I should do. I felt like I needed to write this letter because this seems to be one of those major life experiences. I know that I will get home and fall back into what life was like before ZA, and while I don't think that's a bad thing I also know that I do need to hang on to many of these moments. I'm not sure what I will tell myself 3 or 6 months from now but...

*remember the feeling that traveling gave you, the way you felt numb when you left home and the way you feel numb now. That this is self-protecting and perhaps not necessarily a bad thing.

*it's not hard to make friends. People have amazing stories and you've made some great friendships here.

*don't be too stressed with life, things seem to (for the most part) work out.

*"get to know yourself better" -Jimi

*the way he made you feel.

*catching eyes and not looking away, existing in hesitation.

*take every opportunity that is a chance for a new experience, strive to be excellent at it.

*sometimes it's worth it to spend the money.

*give people a chance before judging them.

I've found that it can be so easy to create these intense feelings but then it's also so easy to let them go. Sometimes I wish things were more permanent than that...

Remember to show the people at home that you appreciate them. I think sometimes I'm not good at that. Remember sitting in the front seat of the overland vehicle talking to JohnO and thinking about his life story and how I should really just go for the things I love/want to do. It's probably one of the best decisions in life.

Don't be afraid to just go out there and do it. Don't forget South Africa, it was one of the best decisions of your life.


[I don't know what made me open this letter tonight but I finally opened it.]

Checking out.

While I was in the moment I was actually thinking about how I would write this blog entry. Now that I'm actually sitting down to write it I become hesitant and thus intend to skim brutal honesty.

Intentions should not be misconstrued. I simply believe that there is some fantasy of ultimate pleasure, the desire to connect if not mentally at least physically, to endeavor to obtain the feeling of being beautiful or wanted or (if only temporarily) escaping the confines of my self-imposed mental and physical torture.

There has been an imminent need for me to cleanse myself. In no way do I claim it to be logical or even pleasurable but assume it to be a type of duty, the expected next step to, well, the next step.

I'm hearing things that I don't need to hear, affirmations to semi-nonexistent doubts.

I love the way you feel. Face down to none other than dark blue. Your lower back, nice curves. It's so cold here. You told me to do this, pull your hair. I did? Yes, but not away from your neck so I can run my fingers across it. I think I'm late for dinner. But I'm not finished yet. Closing my eyes, feeling my muscles, waiting for the pain to arrive in three days. Really, it only takes three days? I can't go back. But you will. Pressure, god this is all a show, I'm so good at acting. I tricked you into believing that it was the truth. Is that evil? Yea, kinda. This isn't why I'm here. You had other plans. I should have known. I'm oblivious sometimes. Or maybe I'm just angry. But I love you. No you don't, don't you see this is all part of the scene? One act play. Re-run. Rinse and repeat. Closing my eyes and imagining elsewhere is effective but a fallacy. Fuck you for doing this to me. So my pants are too loose. It's just part of the result. As expected. So I succumb, not because I'm weak but because I'm giving. Not because I want to be but because I have to be.

I need to stop waiting for the calls. It's useless. Indeed I can't be closed off from the world but I can diffuse my effort, my fantasies (which have already settled into fears). So easily frightened. I'm always waiting to be let down, waiting, waiting for something. Something new. Something better. Run in circles with yourself trying to be perfect (that's what he always told me), you'll just be dizzy. Nice try, must I apologize for my efforts? Wasn't asking for support, or opinion. Nor was I asking to find myself shoved into a small space, here I am slowly getting taller in Wonderland.

I have to stop waiting. And I have to stop offering myself in such a way. Tried and tested. Not so new, not so exciting. Simple duties. Why am I lacking the strength to disobey them? 'Cause it's all a game, I know. Can't win if you don't play. Even though I don't really think there should be winners or losers, just stick to that gray area between... oh so very pertinent in my life right now.

Actually, what I'm simply trying to say is that I'm really good at checking out.

Afterglow.

"But you missed the smell of fall."

I didn't miss it, I just had to look for it. Sometimes just waiting for it to come to you or hoping to stumble upon it simply isn't good enough. The smell of fall. Decaying in preparation for newness, rustling before stillness.

You're on my mind as I'm picking the scabs from two nights ago. It's a bad habit. And I can't stop dreaming of close encounters with death. I'm afraid that the south is killing my passion. So that's me, I always liked to walk in the rain.

Nighttime music.

This city. To be near people my age, those becoming educated, this pocket of learning. I'm always amazed that every time I come back I still see familiar faces. I'm always left dwarfed by the institution; maybe it is too grandiose and maybe individuals are simply part of the collage, but there was something intriguing about that feeling of community.

My arrival has been a whirlwind of activity. Tucked beneath layers, scarf, hat, mittens. "You look good" they say. I'm finally starting to feel that good. Potentially the first real meal since the boat, and cappuccinos. Collapsed on the couch ("we can justify it, you're taken and I'm wounded") we catch up.

And I'm free. No gates, no duties, no commitments. I'm intoxicated by this freedom. A few hours and I've escaped, is that how simple it is? (no, it's not but I can't think that far just yet...) My evenings are dreamlike. And I'm dizzy and displaced and feeling sick, maybe last night wasn't a dream, maybe it was because I finished the last pill. The music was hypnotizing.


I know he floated in and out of my dreams but it didn't feel real this time.

I'm finally waking up.

Perhaps I won't be able to leave the Midwest. Or maybe I'll be able to leave, I'll just always come back.

Home. This is my real home. Slipping between the covers on my bed and burying myself into the pillows is so familiar and so wonderful and I become childishly giddy with excitement and then I can't sleep.

And this morning, the leaves divided between branches and ground. Oranges, yellows, greens, reds. Poetry. Falling. Being back in this place, autumn, winter, spring. So familiar. Something about those memories. How could I ever leave?

Yesterday before I left ALN says to me, "I wish I had your family." I'm very lucky. I know it. In fact, a couple weeks ago I sent my Mom a thank you card to thank her for being such an awesome Mom. And my Mom, so thoughtful, had my electric blanket on my bed and already turned on so that when I climbed in last night it was toasty warm.

The events from the past weeks are starting to fade away, into drawers and envelopes. To be surrounded with love and happiness again, hugs and smiles. My bare feet are cold on the wood floors and I'm finally starting to feel alive again.

...or maybe I'm just finally waking up?

I didn't think that I was sleeping, I thought I was awake... my how things change.

Part of me thinks that it would be easier to give in. Pack up. Go home.

My exhaustion is physical and mental. But I wonder, how can I be mentally exhausted when I feel so numb? It's going through the motions, no poetry here, only mechanics.
Is it a safety device? Wiping the initials out of the snow on Tappan on a snowy evening. Orange salt water. So different by day, by night.

She gave me a necklace with orange beads, she said that she made it when I first met you and that's why I should have it. I was crying. To wake with that feeling, residue, to know that I saw you and to know that you wouldn't look at me. It felt so pieced together nights ago but today it changed. No response. That's the worst. That's why I will call him even though I know I shouldn't, because he won't answer, and it won't happen because that's the way it works.

So I should change the memory. Because I can. It's not fixed, I can convince myself otherwise. Over and over again. I won't go to the ocean. Maybe they don't change, maybe we just forget. Forgetting. Ahh, the easy way out. Or maybe it's pretending. It didn't exist in the first place. Convincing.

I'm beginning to realize that maybe there isn't much difference between being awake and being asleep. They're both starting to feel so real, so unreal.

Congratulations.

Fatigue.

I think there's something wrong with me. I'm not recovering from my exhaustion in the way that I think I should be which is more than frustrating.

Likewise, I'm extremely excited to be going home. It looks like I will be quite busy while I'm home but rest assured I will be leaving plenty of time for sleep.

A snag in the plans-- an email from SFB, shall we hang out? My mind is messed up enough already to have an encounter with band boy after nearly 4 years?

I'm still trying to figure all of this out...

This is so.... jenky.

Actually, it's hell. Really. Because ALN is out of town there are days when only three of us are working. Days like today where I was chewed out by the Almighty P's on at least three separate occasions for my lack of "paying attention" to particularities. It was a day that started at 6:30am and ended at 7pm... with only a 15 minute lunch break. I am exhausted.

Rowan hurt his leg running around like a stupid idiot in the pasture the other day. I've been icing it everyday (but today) and he seems to be doing better. MP still won't let me ride longer than 30 minutes though which is, of course, frustrating.

Today MP had me warm his stallion up for him. It involved a lot of yelling at me for doing things incorrectly...come on, it's seriously intimidating to be riding MP's horse!

And lest I forget, there was the biggest, nastiest roach in our kitchen the other day and I'm traumatized by it. Also, the light in our bathroom doesn't work so we have a lamp, very strange. I can't wait to get out of here, even just 6 days in Michigan will remind me that there is life outside of DCI.