Friday, July 31, 2009


Today I got my room assignment for college! I got a single, in the non-quiet dorms. I am so excited! I cannot wait to meet my suite mates. Hopefully they won't all be shower hoarders. I'm considering showering at 4 in the morning so I can be sure I'll have hot water and nobody else wanting to get in the whole time. It's really happening. In 23 days I will start living in my temporary dorm for XC practice. I cannot wait to get there and meet everyone and start living on my own. Not living at home is going to be a little weird, going from living on a farm in the middle of nowhere to living in a dorm right next to the city. Going from living two floors off the ground to seven floors off the ground. I'm nervous about being up that high. I've never slept so far from the ground. It will be an adjustment. I fully intend to drop small objects from my dorm very late at night. Pennies, and possibly small water balloons, maybe spit. I have to experience this whole dropping things fad, I haven't had the opportunity before this.

Another thing that I intend to do. I intend to take up nearly full-time residence in the library. I love that library. Not going for ghostly pale nerd library dweller status, but I definitely want to read a lot, and besides, that library smells phenomenal. Old books, mmm. So many intentions. I also intend to ride my bike all over Olympia, and to run around the epic nature trails. Going to drink a lot of coffee too, and go in the sauna (events unrelated). I'm going to eat a lot of rice. Sew a lot. Knit a lot. Meet new people, make new friends, try new things. College is all and all promising to be amazing. I. Cannot. Wait.

Thursday, July 30, 2009

Love Child

My goldfish died today. One would think that such an event would seem insignificant and meaningless to an 18 year old girl, but I wept. Literally wept. Hubert Cumberdale was a noble little creature. He didn't require much, just clean water, oxygen, food, and a little attention now and then. Today was the hottest day of the year thus far. It was 101 degrees. Needless to say, goldfish in large chemistry beakers cannot withstand heat. His death was discovered after dark, and my mom was kind enough to bury him in the yard; I thought he deserved more than a flush. A replacement was required in short order, I enjoy taking care of small water bound creatures.

So at about 10pm Hannah drove over and we made a trip to wal-mart (I don't generally shop there, but it is the only place that one can procure fish after 10pm). We had gotten Hubert there at 1am one night after painting a room (eggplant and ethnic yellow, just to clarify). A sketchy man- probably on meth, judging by a pitiful lack of teeth- helped us net him out of the large blue-green tank that teemed with goldfish. He was purchased and poured into his cylindrical tank in the parking lot. The cylindrical tank was later replaced by a 4000 ml chemistry beaker that I discovered in the China Cabinet. This container I brought with me on our most recent trip. Bottom full of colourful marbles and filled about halfway with fresh water, I carried it to the fish section.

The Mexican man working there hit on us. It was moderately awkward. I selected 6 particular fish and a small fiddler crab from the wall of scummy tanks. We told the man the story of Hubert Cumberdale, and he was intrigued. An air stone and filter were also purchased, and we wheeled our band of replacements to the checker, stopping to try on souvenir fish hats and snap a few photos. The fish were purchased, and we poured them into the beaker in front of the store, dumping excess water on the gaudy faux red brick pavement area. The bags were disposed of in the nearest receptacle. We then clamoured back in Hannah's car, making sure to keep Barron- her new dingo dog- securely in the back as he licked at us affectionately.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009


Once again sleep will not come easily. My mind is at work on so many things that it is nearly impossible to sleep these days. I simply lay here in the calming heat of warm summer nights praying for rain. Rain to provide a lullaby to drown out my ceaseless thoughts. To silence the ever turning cogs. It's a reoccuring trend these days, this insomnia. The usual remedies are no longer working. Midnight bike rides on the driveway once quieted the mind. Pedalling and pedalling, faster and faster, and then, stop, cruise, close my eyes and pretend to fly. Staring longingly into the sky, wishing- as someone so eloquently articulated to me recently as their own train of thought- that I could simply jerry-rig a ladder system tall enough to touch just one of the stars. My mind is cruel though. I contemplate making contact with the constellations and then a deeply buried memory rises up; that the star I am seeking to grasp may not even exist anymore. It may have imploded centuries ago, but is so far away that we cannot know here on earth until one day it is simply missing from the horizon.

Then my wicked mind begins to gnaw at the notion that the impact we have made on this planet is fleeting and disposable. That nothing I accomplish, say, do, or create will survive beyond my demise more than a few milenieu. Dark, really. My optimistic nature is challenged by the encroaching darkness of my surroundings. The sun is on the other side of the earth now, warming the soil and lighting the day for the people it is currently residing over. So many people. So many people in the world, so many billions, so many of which I will never speak a word to. Whose eyes will never meet mine, whose lives I will never touch. At this point in my train of thought I begin to wonder: what am I doing here? I am living. But to what point and purpose? I am experiencing. But for what, and to what end? I lay my head down and ponder the insignificance of my existence, and then I realise, I can make whatever I want of this life. To sit and worry over whether or not I am doing what I ought to be doing is a waste. When the sunlight comes I will rise and do whatever it is that I do. It will matter to me and to the people in my life. I suppose in my life, that's all that really matters.

I don't know why I'm here, I just know that I want to be happy. I want to do and see and be all the things that I aspire to be. I want to love, in any capacity that seems natural. I want to find people that I can share things in my life with. That I can teach and learn from. I want to do exactly what I intend to do and not plan a moment of it beyond unrealistic, wild, and absurd imagination. I want to live. I want to sleep...

Tuesday, July 28, 2009


The vastness of the night sky certainly puts things into perspective, especially in the company of others. It has become clear that I currently have no capacity to reciprocate certain emotions. Somewhat understandable, considering recent events. After a whirlwind evening that would sweep a typical girl off her feet I reached a mental impasse. As soon as lip met lip my mind threw on the emergency brake, and that was that. "Danger! Vulnerability!" The neurons fired and I instantly took on the role of emotional robot. As he shook nervously and told me I was beautiful and showered me with compliments- as he had all night, but now trying to salvage what hope was left- I ran cold. I've been in this situation before. Unfortunately it tends to be with the nice guy. He clearly felt a genuine connection, which I may have been able to feel had I let myself feel anything at all. The mental block was up from the very start. We talked about life and about philosophy and astronomy and psychology. It was intellectually stimulating as I rambled out my humble theories for another to judge. He articulated that a pretty face was complimented by a wise old soul. It was doomed from the start. Fleeting summer romance isn't something I can accomplish, considering how long it takes me to trust someone at all. I don't tend to let people get close to me. Probably a mistake, but it at least feels safer that way. I can rely on myself. I can control myself. I can test myself. I am safe and cannot emotionally harm myself. I have a few close friends, but very few. I've always felt like I have had to deny a part of myself in order to fit in at all, at least in this town. Somehow I have accomplished the magnificent feat of being respected rather than comprehended. The future is bright however. Evergreen feels like home- that imaginary concept of possessing a space in which you feel utterly safe and comfortable in being nothing but yourself. I'm looking forward to getting home.

Thursday, July 23, 2009


Lately I've been contemplating the impact of humanity on nature and the planet at large. It seems so arrogant of us to have build "indestructible" monuments and to have domesticated and bred animals to our whims. To have taken relentlessly from the earth, and shamed those who harvested sparingly and responsibly. Shamed and slaughtered and confined them. Especially living in America- though the area I reside in and have explored is only a modicum of the vast geography of this country- it is clear that the "great" society we have built is built on cracked foundations. On servitude and valour. On genocide and liberty. We have constructed social conventions in reaction to change. Stigmas have emerged in reaction to the shame and guilt we feel as a result of those social conventions. In this way humanity has had an immense impact on nature, as well as on nurture. Utopia seems an impossibility. Once the human element is added, chaos takes hold. On paper and in the minds of great philosophers there is perfection and peace, but in society it seems improbable. I wonder what would happen if there was no society. No humanity. No humans. What would become of the world? I suspect it would continue much as it did before our ingenuity and curiosity made it what it has become today. Our architecture would crumble, our infrastructure would collapse, cities would be reclaimed by nature. Our arrogance would be washed away by water and wind. We are not indestructible. Nature often revolts against our innovation. Hurricanes and earthquakes, changing climate, rapid evolution. Humanity for the most part is carelessly upsetting a delicate balance, not only within itself but upon the nature that has allowed it to thrive.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Caged Birds

The recent chaos is at end, and has come to a peaceful resolution, at least in my mind. It's a relief really. I am once again focusing on what really matters, and working to better recognise my own flaws and virtues, and to do right by them. I am enjoying the feeling of being defined only by my own actions and characteristics. When you're with someone you are constantly berated with questions about them rather than about yourself. That is not to say that I lost myself in him, I certainly did not, I was nothing but myself, wholly and honestly. Nonetheless, it was always, "How are you two doing?". The more I have discovered since this weekend, the less it stings. I am surrounding myself with great friends and beginning once again to anticipate the future whole heartily and fearlessly. There is nothing caging me now, I am free to roam and to do as I please without fear of hurting another. An expected side effect of this: my wanderlust has returned with a vengeance. I am once again planning adventures to come. It's going to be a good year.

Tuesday, July 14, 2009


Pain is our best teacher, and I've certainly been learning a lot the past few days. Yes, I am being melancholy, and possibly melodramatic. Heartbreak tends to produce such reactions. My entire body aches. My mind aches. I think I truly comprehend heartbreak now, more-so than I have in past situations. There are so many questions whirring through my head. Why her? Why me? Was it love? What is love anyway? The chemical and hormonal reactions inside my mind and extremities cannot explain away the gravitations I felt. The gravitations I am trying to suppress with monster truck force. How could he look into big brown eyes filled with so much pain and chaos and love and lie? Lie with those blue and green eyes not giving the slightest hint of his motivations. He told me that he could see no other way of doing things, that loving me was the only way. How much of what he said was true? How much of what I experienced was real? The butterflies, the weak knees, the heart racing. Was it all a lie? Was it all a complicated lacing and intertwining of emotions and chemicals? Emotions and photons. I don't really know. All I know is that the more I think, the more clarity I gain on the whole conundrum. It was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. I understand that statement now more than I have in the past; I feel as though I have truly lost, because I have truly loved. I suppose my heart is now in the process of super cleansing. The recent renovations left it in a mess and the contractor skipped town. I have paid the price for the added room in my heart.