Year in review.

It's that time of the year to recall the happenings of 2007 before moving on to 2008. I'm always impressed by how quickly a year passes, and this year proved no less exciting than past years.

1) This was the first year in quite some time that I haven't left the country. Perhaps that's why I'm starting to feel the itch again. I've learned that traveling, especially outside the country, is something that should be a yearly occurrence.

2) I graduated college. Not with honors, not with any distinctions, but I graduated. I thought French was going to be the demise of me but that wasn't the case. I learned that academia is my place to be.

3) I had a one year anniversary with AVH-- the first time in my life that I have had a boyfriend for longer than just a few months. We maintained a dream-like relationship: Ohio, New York City, the boat, Florida. Rock climbing, horseback riding, lake Michigan, hiking, museums, tulips, parties, roller coasters, the cider mill, and many sleepless nights. And then, after nearly a year and a half after I left South Africa AVH broke up with me. I learned from my anger and sadness that potentially the most important thing for me to do is listen to and then follow my heart.

4) I traveled the American West, California, Utah, Montana, Idaho, Nevada, Wyoming. I realized that I don't necessarily have to leave the US in order to feel as though I'm escaping. This country is more beautiful than I thought it was.

5) I spent the summer competing Rowan at training level-- my first time showing in several years. We successfully campaigned and earned a championship at every show we entered, and ended up reserve champion in training level for the MDA in 2007. Go Rowan!

6) I "followed the dream" and moved to Florida so that I could train with a US Olympic dressage medalist. Instead of selling Rowan I brought him with me. I (have already) learned many things about being a dressage rider, about my own character, about other people, and about how much I can take physically.


I suppose you never know where you'll end up. Right?

My December.

It still hasn't begun to feel like the holidays. I guess as a Midwesterner at heart I will never get used to celebrating Christmas in a warm, sunny climate. We've tried our best to make it feel more festive but the cold seems to be a vital element for truly believing that it is the end of another year. The tree and decorations help but it's just not the same... or maybe it just gets that way when you get older?

Rowan is still only about 85% but I've started working him for thirty minutes everyday. He hasn't gotten worse (albeit he is on painkillers) but he hasn't really gotten better. He blocked sound in his left front which suggests that it's his feet that are bugging him-- potentially his shoes? He has never had them before. When he's due to be re-shod I will have the farrier put rubber pads between his shoes and feet, perhaps the extra cushioning will help him not be so tender. Despite my misfortunes with Rowan there has been a general outpouring of support from the other girls, almost all of whom who have offered their horses to me while they are traveling for the holidays. Another woman from the barn is going to bring one of her horses over for me to ride until Rowan is 100%. The general outpouring of generosity from the girls has made me not feel so taken advantage.

This week I started working for the vet-- hello working 7 days a week, goodbye sleeping in. But I'm not going to complain, that's what I told myself. I need to pay for Rowan's outrageous vet bills in some manner and this seemed to be the best option. Yes, I am probably overworking myself but essentially I'm getting paid to learn veterinary medicine firsthand, potentially the most educational thing I've done since graduating AP.

Last night we had barn crisis, one of the horses started colicing around dinnertime and the vet had us walking him for 20 minutes on / 20 minutes off until midnight. When we checked on him at 11pm he was down in his stall and another emergency vet call had us calling the P's to trailer him to Gainesville where he had emergency surgery. Scary. From what I heard today he's doing alright... but being a horse owner...this stuff terrifies me!

I've received lots of brown boxes in the mail over the past few days and finally it's not so empty beneath the Christmas tree.

Lately I've been thinking about future plans and have somewhat formulated a letter I would send this professor at Harvard that is involved with literature that would be somewhat interesting grad work for me. Honestly, Harvard? I'm not quite sure that's my bag of candy. But, as I've said, who knows where I'll end up?

I'm still waiting for the mail. But at least I'm not waiting for phone calls anymore.

And, I've officially been here for three months.
Happy Holidays/Birthdays kiddos.

Come on, come out.

What happened to the girl we used to know? The girl who wouldn't give up what she believed to be the right thing to do? Good questions. I'm 3 months in and can't think about any of this without choking on tears.

For the first time in a long time I've been absolutely unsure about too many things. I feel hope drain. The lameness, the work, being here and not being able to fulfill the reasons why I came. Not speaking up, afraid of what will happen, feeling horrible for not doing so.

I've never not been in a happy space. A2. Washington. South Africa. I've stumbled because I don't know how to handle people who are so self-consumed. Welcome to the real world. I know it's not fair, I never asked for it to be fair. I simply want basic human decency. It's little to ask for. And to go? As much as I want to leave these psychological confines I won't unless I absolutely have to. Stubborn. Or maybe just because I know I won't ever be back, I won't ever do this to myself again. It's useless to spend my time around people who are unhappy. I can make those choices, I need to make those choices.

Why? Life is short. It keeps coming back to me. Forget December, 12 days 'till Christmas. No snow, no sweaters. You never write me letters. I hope you didn't wear my yellow shirt. Promiscuous. Symbolic. Would you have realized? Just friendship. Hmm. But it's short. Stab wounds. Kicked in the head (for the first time). A crack above my right temple, wounded. Bruised. It hurts to eat, sleep.

I'm trying. Snap out of this. 5 days, seems so long. Is this the way it's always going to be? 3 more months. Will Rowan get better? 90 days.

It just doesn't feel like Christmas.

It's Christmas... but it's hard to ignore that if feels like summer all the time.

Is that it? All my life I have feigned the experience of true suffering? It has never been legitimate?

This is a sick psychological game-- how long before I crack? It's not a question of strength or lack thereof and I'm starting to think that it's not stupidity either. I'm not sure what it is. Unsure of so many things. I knew it the first week I came and even then I think I knew the toll this would take on me physically. Tough as shit. You are tough as shit. Is that what I become? But I took the responsibility. I knew that in some ways he would hold me back and I knew that he would make me suffer. That's dedication. Or some form thereof. And suffer, from worry. And finances. But to find motivation? Your mind is elastic but your body is not. Time can be a greedy thing. 20-something and lost. Or, tied down. I will forever be tied down by this.

And me? To be stuck in this society. Tattoos, piercings. Where did academia go? I would walk with my people if I could find them. I don't think there are any here. Today is a day where it's difficult to be strong. Where your picture is at eye-level and I think of it as a movie, stuck somewhere that time was greedy and took it away from me. It always hurts more to have and lose than to not have in the first place.

Here the holidays aren't holidays, it's the first time they've just become another day on the calendar. It feels like summer all the time. I'm sick of the sunshine. And the music. Reminding me of when I was a kid. Grandpa's ghost. Cutting crayons into film canisters, here's your medicine. Gum in the cabinet above the sink. Cigarette smoke. Boat races down the creek. Dead man's hill. Those were the days. Blood oranges. Paris. Airplanes. Sirius. I'm not your star, isn't that what you said? No exams, no sickness. No initials in the snow. Sliding down the sidewalk. I didn't realize it, I haven't thought about you in years. Yes, it has turned into years. The only exams now are mental-- will I crack? Will I survive? And I knowingly put myself through this. Fuck building character. That is NOT what this is. No one respects us here. Indentured servants, I believe that was the term she used. I always thought education was more than it ever was. I'm always unsatisfied. I always thought I would be smarter. Could be smarter. Will be smarter.

It's always worse at night. I never want to talk anymore. No messages, just burrow into my bed, escape with sleep. Wake up to the same thing in the morning. Just another check list, just another thing to wait for. Stop stealing my time. Waiting, waiting. For this and that. To get old. For my back to hurt worse. To be healthy. To eat right. For the letter to come. Or not come. Waiting for the unknown. Waiting to give up. Waiting to not care anymore. I don't think I can convince myself out of it. Just pretend I never had it. I never claimed to be a good actress.

Tomorrow will be another day of sun. Another day of not talking. And another day of trying to find the spaces between.