Something New...

     I was sitting inside today.  Thinking.  And I got bored and restless and anxious.  So I decided to get up and go.  So I went.  I walked out the door and never came back.  And as I walked through a field of wheat on this cool spring day, I realized that the foundation that I had building my life on was crumbling.  I was restless.  I needed to go somewhere.  No more sitting inside and thinking.  Well, at least, no more sitting inside.  I needed to do something.  Take a chance.  Be firm and decided about something.  So I got up and left.  I walked out the door and never came back.  And as I walked along the shore on this warm summer day, I realized that for a long time I've been riding the fence.  I was scared.  I was unsure.  I needed to do something.  So I decided to go on a journey to somewhere new.  Something new.  So here I am, sitting on this rock in the middle of this river.  Wondering where to go, what to do.  Still sitting and thinking.  Wondering.  Restless.  Anxious.  And well, the problem is...well...I'd like someone to go with me.  But I'm not sure how that works.  And I'm not sure who would come with me.  And I realize that this whole thing sounds like a giant metaphor for where I am in my life right now.  But it's not.  It's just nonsense.  And as I walk through this dense forest today, I realized that it's all nonsense, that I'm still at home thinking, sitting in front of my computer, listening to Noah & the Whale, looking at my sister sitting on the other couch, still waiting for something new.

The biplane.

     I got up this morning a little too late.  I missed the biplane.  It's too bad.  I had such magnificent plans for me and you.  I played them out over and over in my head last night as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep.  (I really shouldn't have had that Starbucks grande cup of Costa Rica Tarrazú.)  I lay there last night, listening to The Temper Trap's Sweet Disposition and another song.  (I don't remember the other song.)  My little brother's Dr. Dre Beats headphones pulling me into a musical other-worldliness that didn't lull me to sleep as I had hoped.  Instead it fueled my night-time day dreaming.  And, if you've ever heard the song Sweet Disposition, you'll know that it has a certain "what-if" sound to it.  At least, I think it does.

     Anyway.  I imagined myself getting up and packing for our trip.  I would put together a box of all the essential foods and drinks we would need--wine, coffee, a Brita water filter, pasta, rice, some fruits and veggies, york peppermint patties for me and peanut butter cookies for you, and other things.  Then I would pack all the books I want to read and several notebooks with a huge supply of .05 mm lead mechanical pencils.  I text you to make sure you've got the record player you promised you'd bring.  You do, of course.  So that's good.  Then I would pack my bag filled with sun dresses, loose tank-tops, skirts, shorts, my bathing suit, and of course, one nice outfit for nights out.  Once I'm all packed, I would pack it all into my wagoneer and set off for the airport.  The biplane takes off at exactly 11:30, and I need to be there 30 minutes early to pack it up, and I want to stop and get a coffee on the way there.  So leaving at 9:30 should give me enough to time to drive over the mountain and to the airport with a stop at Starbucks.  I hope they have something other than Pike's Roast...  

     In my imagination, I arrive at the airport on time.  I drive onto the runway and see you standing there--as usual, you're earlier than I--next to a pile of bags and suitcases and a red biplane.  You're wearing the cardigan I advised you to wear for the flight.  (It can get cold at high altitudes if you don't dress appropriately.)  We pack up all of our stuff in the plane.  It's a tight squeeze.  Now it's 11:30 and time to take off.  I'm excited and nervous.  We're finally getting away.  Escaping all the things that have been pushing against us for so long.  Finally leaving behind our busy schedules.  It'll be so nice.  

     My white dress blows in the wind as I climb up into the plane.  You climb up after me.  Our pilot passes back hats and goggles for us to wear.  Rumbling down the runway...bouncing up and down...finally leaving the earth, soaring higher and higher.  I suck in air to keep from screaming.  It's terrifying but exhilarating.  We're beginning our journey to Easter Island, a small island off the coast of Chile.

     Once we arrive and unpack the biplane, we wave goodbye to the pilot as he flies away.  He won't be back until the last Friday of the month--when he will fly us, all dressed up, to San Diego for a night out.  We unpack our large white tent and set it up just off the beach under the shelter of some trees.  Then we begin to unpack everything.  Our furniture, rug, and bedding has already been delivered from Hanga Roa--the main town on Easter Island--and are sitting in the sand.  We unroll the rug and center it in the middle of the tent.  Hot wind blows in off the sea.  Next we carry in our mattress, and I put silk sheets on it while you bring in all our many pillows--which we pile onto the bed, creating a cozy, plush pillow nest.  After this we carry in the table, book shelf, the little end table that our record player and records will sit on. Once the interior of our new home--the tent--is set up, we wrestle the water barrel into place out in the open where it can catch the rain.

     By this time, it's late in the afternoon, and we're hungry.  You start building a fire for toast and tea, while I put away our books on the book shelf.  You get the fire roaring and set up the toasting rack that sits on top of the fire.  I slide the last book on the shelf as you ask me where I packed the tea.  Of course I've fogotten.  (Was it the box with the dishes or the bag with the apples?)  We look for the tea as the toast burns.  Found the tea.  Another round of toast--the first pieces, blackened and rock-hard, have burned up and fallen into the fire.  Finally, we have it all ready.  We clink our mugs of tea together for the year ahead of us.

    After dinner, you feed the fire to keep it going, and I suggest we go for a swim in the ocean.  The sun is setting over the sea.  Bathing suits.  Running across the sand and splashing into the crashing waves.  The water catches us up, and we ride the waves.  Finally, tired and hungry all over again, we drag ourselves out of the water and make our way inland, past our tent, and into the trees.  There's a creek there.  We rinse the salt water and sand off of our bodies.  The water is cold.  So cold.  The rocks on the creek bed hurt.  They make walking a wobbling, drunk thing.  Finally clean, we head back to our tent.  We hang our bathing suits out to dry on a limb of a tree.  I grab a book and light an oil lamp.  You snuggle under the covers.  Day 1 on Easter Island.

    

     Anyway, I imagined all this last night as I lay in bed listening to Sweet Disposition and some other song I can't remember.  Finally, without even noticing that I had, I fell asleep.  It was a restless sleep filled with dreams.  You took the biplane without me and flew to Zurich.  I was stuck in my driveway trying to get my car to start.  It was quite a terrible dream.  But I finally woke up, tearing myself from my dream as I heard a dog barking outside.  I sat up, rubbing my face.  Rain fell outside and slapped the windows in my room.  The grey sky leaving me unsure of the time of day.  I looked around.  All my sisters were up and had already left the room.  Their beds left unmade and messy.  What time--what time was it?  I reached for my watch.  12:34.  I overslept.  I sighed.  I missed the biplane.  Feelings of disappointment and the pang of inevitability pulled at my stomach.  I wondered if you had left without me.  I climbed off of my top bunk and grabbed my phone off the dresser.  I sent you a text--"I missed the flight..."  You text me--"Rain delay"  "Yeah, it's raining here too. We'll have to wait."  "Wednesday is 70 and sunny."  "Alright, we'll wait until then."  "Cool."

     I sigh.  Wednesday.

Seasonal Affected Disorder

   I have Seasonal Affected Disorder.  I go crazy in the winter.  Well, the first part of the winter I'm fine.  But what I hit what I like to call the "Low Point of the Winter," I lose my mind.  I give way to the cold that has taken over my life.  Right now I can't get warm.  I've been cold for several months, and I need sunshine and heat to restore my sanity.  Now this will continue to grow worse and worse until it finally starts to turn warm--around 60 degrees.  Until then.....ice and cold.

Summer Dreaming

   I'm tired.  I'm drinking hot chocolate (with a wee bit of coffee mixed in) and eating a blueberry muffin (a little overdone.)  Anyway, I'm super tired.  And I'm done with all this cold weather.  Today I was remembering what it was like to be tan....we white girls have a hard lot--especially those of us that look like a mix between Snow White and a Vampire.  But enough complaining.

   So I've been oddly nostalgic lately.  Remembering things I've done, people I've loved, choices I've made, and the way I've acted.  Life is a funny thing.  I think I must echo Zossima and say that one must love everything and do all things out of love.

   I'm in a scenic design class.  It's extremely interesting.  I'm fascinated.  I want to know more about scenography.  I want to be really good at it.

   It's at times like this--at the low point of the winter--that I long so much for the warmth of sunshine and to walk barefooted through the grass and to splash in the crisp water of the ocean as the waves roll in and to listen to warm summer songs and to fully embrace my hippie desire to pack all my belongings into a trailer and travel all over.  I start to slip away from reality and live in an imaginary world where I can wear short cut-off jeans and a baggy tank top and long board all over and read in the sand and not fatten myself up in an attempt to stay warm by adding a thick layer of blubber all over my body.  Do we even remember what summer was like?  Us who live here, lost in the barrens of the North Shore--do we remember a clear, sunny sky, heat that radiating off the sidewalk?  Do we girls who pile on the pounds and the layers to keep warm remember shaved legs covered only by a thin sundress?  Do we remember the feel of shoes without socks and tan skin, kissed by the heat?  Do we remember just how lovely summer is?  I feel like I can go there in my mind....but the more I do, the more I find it hard to get through all this ice and wind and cold.  I want to travel through time and through my imagination to a place where it's deliciously warm.  Only 3 more months to go.....

Mormons in Japan

Do they have Mormons in Japan?  I'm not sure.  And by Mormons, I mean like, members of the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints.  The type of Mormons that practice polygamy.  Which is weird....but that's beside the point.  Are there Mormons in Japan?  What about Mongolia?  Siberia?  Uzbekistan?  I just don't know.  What if they are only in America?  Does that even matter?

Hatterass Thoughts

The wind is blowing so hard!

I bet if I jumped off the top balcony I'd get caught all up in the blowing, and I'd get carried right away.

Over the ocean.

I'd soar over the Diamond Shoals,

Through the snow whipping through the air,

and out, out, out to sea...

And then, once I was far enough out, the wind would quiet down,

still...

Then!

Down I would crash!

Plummeting.

And I would splash into the sea

at the deepest point between America and Europe,

where the ugliest fish and the biggest whales live.

And I would float,

and float

and

float

until

eventually,

the salt water would soak into my skin,

and my skin would take on so much water

that I would turn into a sea thing.

Yes, a sea thing.

And I would live my life happily, eploring all manner of things under the ocean's surface.

Never wanting for anything but love.

And bread

And coffee...

For love would remain a sweet, warm memory in my mind.

Someting lost in the midst of all the new.

Faces swept away by the wind.

And with the sea water surrounding me

licking my whole entire body,

I would close my eyes and think.

"If not for bread, coffee, and love, I would be quite happy with my life here in the sea."

And then, having quite decided there what I must do,

I would set out on a journey

to search the whole sea

for adventure

and love.

Underground

2 summers ago I started writing my own version of Dostoevsky's Notes from Underground.  It was an interesting exercise.  It turned into a weird stream of conciseness or something very like it.  Anyway, this is "chapter 5"...

Chapter Five

I took a walk with myself tonight.  I often walk at night.  Sometimes with my siblings; sometimes with myself—never alone.  I needed time to be quiet and think, to mentally digest all the thoughts whizzing through my head.  People often need a time to get away--away from the bustle of life—time to spend with themselves.  What am I thinking about today?  Listen.  Be still.  Paying attention to the thoughts swelling and surging inside me.  Brain waves—rapid fire!—shoot through my  mind.  Ting ‘a’ ling zhingk zhank zhow!  Fast thoughts.  Oops…they’re gone.  What is left?  Whispers.  Why can I not remember?  It’s too late.

We all need time to reflect.  How will we ever know ourselves, ever understand our own ideas and thoughts and beliefs, if we do not take the time to get acquainted with ourselves?  Life progresses at a dizzying speed—never stopping, never even slowing.  A minute creeps by.  It’s gone forever.  Fast.  We get caught up in the business of life; it becomes pandemonium, chaos.  Stillness.  This is what I crave.  Quiet.  This is what I need.  I need to hear myself think.  I need to feel myself connect—connect with the still waters that supposedly run deep within.  How do I reach those waters?  How do I ever find the time to slow down?  Who knows.  Sigh.  (You’re bored now, I know it.  You’re thinking, who cares about all this?  Shuttup, girl!)  Well, I’m just thinking.  Introspection is a good thing.  We all need some time for it.  Get to know yourself.  Don’t settle for just getting by.  Delve.  Reach the waters.

I took a walk tonight.  Thoughts flit through my head.  A constant stream of phrases representing vague thoughts flash across my frontal lobe.  Watch out!  My ipod plays classical music.  No words.  Just me thinking.  I am taking a walk with myself.  Hi, I’m Grace.  Remember me?  I haven’t had much time for you lately.  I’ve been busy.  What is going on, on the inside…inside my brain?  What have I been too busy to see?  Words rush, ideas crash.  I’m forgetting them already.  It’s a jungle in here!  I must weed through it.  I need quiet.  Hush, brain!  I live in a land of headaches.  It cramps my head.  I squint.  I breath deep.  Flick the clove to the concrete and start a fire.  A concrete fire in my brain.  I’m clearing it out.  Where does that leave me now?  Tired.