Coastal

Speaking of living in another country...

Today is "House Hunters International" day on HGTV. I love HGTV. I dream of owning a house so I can do what I want with it, explore my interior decorating urges that I didn't follow through into a degree. The most important things for people looking for homes on islands are the view and a pool. Oh, to have those requirements! I want a view. A pool would be cool, but there's the ocean down the road. I've never been to the ocean. People go on vacation to the Caribbean and decide they want to move there. Just decide. Money is only a marginal issue. Most can spend $500,000 to over a million. Give me a bungalow with a view. Well, maybe a little larger than a bungalow, but a palace isn't necessary. But, I haven't ever dreamed of moving to an island--probably because I've never been to an island and experienced it. As long as it wasn't 100 degrees every day...

Outdoor living. I have been wanting a little bistro set for my patio forever. Can't find one to fit my budget. I'd sit out there and write and read. I'd feel less constrained. The sunken camp chair covered in dirt and webs last summer didn't satisfy me. The railing is high, so I couldn't see a thing--even though the only things to see are other (colorful) apartments and the parking lot. A room with a view. Oh, now I'm sad. And dreaming.

Snickers has found her niche, however. Miranda and Ray brought me their old queen size mattress yesterday, and it's been standing on its side against the window wall since because I'm waiting on the frame and box springs to be delivered (were supposed to come before 4--they have 8 minutes!). She jumped up and has been laying on the top side of it all day. There, she has a window view, she's high, and she's comfortable. I hate to break her heart when the bed can be put together! Oh, oh, oh.

Why write

In the first meeting of my class Writers Workshop on Thursday, Michael Johnson asked us why we write. Now, I answered this question last year in my advanced fiction writing class with the general answer "to find out who I am." Now, that is certainly true. I search for myself in my poems, in my stories, trying to find out what means what to me, but there's more. My answer on Thursday possibly stemmed from the regularity that it has occurred in the recent months, but, for me, is probably the defining reason why I write: because I can't speak it. I have never been good with speaking my mind or carrying on a conversation or defining my opinion on the spot or carrying my weight in an argument. When I am pressured to speak, in a time where I am required to speak, my mind cannot concentrate on the task. Often, in an argument with Jedsen, in my stammering necessity to find the right words to say, a song comes into my head, repeatedly repeating to distract me from my own words. Or I search, almost literally circling my mind with my eyes, for that right statement. But, if I write it down, if I can see that what I write will be remembered and can be built upon, I can usually determine a solution or position.

How do I feel about my dad? He was always working, always distant from me and my brother. We never had any problems with one another. He never yelled at me, and I don't think I ever screamed at him. He fed me. He let me hold his index finger while we walked when I was little. I love my dad, but I don't know him beyond his love for sci fi television and Anchor Inn. I think my feelings for my dad came through in the poem I wrote about his hands. I couldn't define it in my mind, but once I had a spot to wander from, that's when I knew. All he does is work, nights now, and what is his life beyond that? He works while my mom stays home with no one to care for now. He works for little, gets little, gives little.

My parents are not passionate people. My mom has no drive except to be a mother, and my dad's only need when he is home is to watch tv. I always went beyond that. I wanted to go to college, graduate, have a career, travel, be happily in love, live in a stimulating city. Not that I wanted to be better than them--they're good people--but I wanted different. So, here I am, slightly traveled, still being schooled (beyond where I hoped), loved and loving a man, at the age of 22. But where's my passion? There are the goals, the wishes, but what do I get passionate about? While my writing habit is lacking--slap me--in the writing is my passion. In the finding the word, the phrase, or as Michael Johnson (first it was Natalie) perfectly puts it, the SURPRISE. It's in the surprise of finding that I have something to say and can say it well, in a new way. Okay, so there's that, but what are my other passions? Work, the books. I get obsessed over books and their worth, the research, and the surprise of discovering this little 68 page booklet on religion is worth $80. Yes, the surprise again. Passion in the travel, in the new. If only I could go back to Europe and take time in the Alps, in Paris, in Lucerne, in London, on the Seine, on the Metro, on that Swiss lake. Oh, the passion for the there. The there I cannot go to. The there I cannot have.

I always wanted to study abroad. Australia, so that I could see my grandma's family. France, so that I could really learn French. England, so that I could start myself over. Since my oportunities for study abroad are over, my goal is to live in another country for at least a year at some point in my life. I'm not afraid.

Comfortable

Well, the break is almost over. But did it ever begin?

I've been working all the time at the bookstore--8 hours in a closet without any natural sunlight. I've gotten a lot done there. Almost too much, actually, because I'm close to running out of books to go through. That will all change once I'm back to 16 hours a week again next week.

I spent several days in Hutchinson for Christmas. I had to take Snickers down there so they could babysit her while I would be in Manhattan, and, let me tell you, that was the worst drive ever! First of all, it had just snowed a lot, so I went out to my car to load it here in Lawrence, and the plow had left a nice 2-foot ridge behind my car. I got stuck for about thirty seconds. Then I had to coax Snickers into the pet carrier for the first time ever. She hated it. She screamed and bit at the bars the whole time. She lost two claws in the first five minutes. So, I'm driving--slowly--but it's bad around Topeka, and my windshield wipers weren't working very well, so I could hardly see and started sliding. Scary, but I got it corrected. Then just outside of Topeka, I nudged a little ridge in the center of the lane, which sent me sliding into the other lane then back towards the ditch. Thank goodness, I got that one corrected, too. All this time, I have about 400 pounds of books in my backseat and trunk to drop off in Manhattan at the DB. I got there and had to unload it all by myself. Then it was back on the road to Hutch. Snickers was still going crazy. Finally made it to Hutch unscathed. Ugh.

I met my friend, Beth, at the Hasting's in Hutch and got to see her newborn son, Isaac, for the first time. Oh my goodness. It was good to see her, and it was the first time in recent history that I've gotten to hold a sweet, sweet, three-week-old. Beth lives in Wichita, and I've only gotten to see her three times in the last 2.5 years. We go back to the Alco days. And now she's getting married. :)

Christmas was pretty good. We spent Christmas Eve at my grandparents' house in South Hutch, which was nice because I hardly get to see them and my 103 yr old great grandma. I spent Christmas day afternoon with Jedsen at his parent's house in Galva. That was the first time we've ever seen each other on the actual day of Christmas. It was lovely.

The next morning, I headed back to Lawrence Snicker-less for a day and a half before it came time for my housesitting job in Manhattan. Another snowy morning that Friday when I left for my old city, but I didn't have the problems I had the last time. The week went very fast there. It was nice to spend time in Manhattan again and at the bookstore, but I've made my home in Lawrence now, so it just wasn't the same. That's the thing with me--I can never go back after I've moved on. I could never live in Manhattan again. That was such a transitional period for me. It was good, and I met some really great people (that I got to catch up with, too), but I had to move on in order to continue to grow as a person. But, yes, the real blessing for the week there was getting to spend time with my aunt, uncle, and grandma Lentz. They're such good people, and I'm glad I've gotten to know my aunt and uncle more over the last year. And then there's my dear grandma. I love my grandma so much! We share the same birthday, and we've always just had a special bond. Yes, and then there was Laura Beth and Miranda who made my Saturday terrific. LB took me to my first Manhattan thrift stores with her family, which was quite fun, and then Miranda had me over for Scrabble night and chatting. I miss those girls...

After leaving Manhattan last Sunday, I had to go down to Hutch to pick up Snickers and catch my brother in a basketball game with some friends. This is the first time he's ever played basketball in front of people on an actual team. We've always played basketball together, and he's been playing on the school courts with his friends for years, but he never joined a team until he and his friends decided to form a team through the rec. I talked to him beforehand and asked him how it was going. He said he was so nervous that whatever shot he threw up wouldn't end up anywhere near the hoop. I understand, I said. Remember when I was in 4th grade on the basketball team and was so nervous the one time I got the ball in my hands that I made a basket for the other team? Yes, I understand how you feel, little brother. Well, guess what. After not having made a single point in the first two games, he made four three-pointers! He was amazing, and I was so proud of him! I'm disappointed I won't get to see any more games, but I'm so glad I got to see this one. Yep, that's my brother.

Finally got back to Lawrence on Monday. And I've been working all week. It's good to have this weekend off and just chill because classes start again on Thursday. Thursday, Thursday, Thursday.