April, Come She Will

Word of the day: Liberation
Word of the week: Liberation
Word of the month: Liberation

Liberals, liberation; Liberals, liberation.  There's a lot of it here, in my tiny little corner of paradise (ironically, right next to Paradise Pond).  I have become further entrenched in myself in as positive a way as could be possible.  I have a nose ring, which I call my one act of rebellion even though both my parents have told me they love it.
I am fully convinced I am turning into the person I was really afraid to be.  Afraid isn't the right word, maybe apprehensive? And I'm finding out that I never should have been apprehensive, I shouldn't have been afraid.
Words of the day: social construct.
My solution? Go to an all-women's college, you'll forget what they are.
No you won't forget, you'll learn to disregard.

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And I've never been more in love with everything. I've never been more stressed, but I've never been more in love and dammit I feel like I've really earned it even though I didn't really earn it.  It's ok to let yourself be happy, it really is.  It's ok to let yourself appreciate everything you have, it's ok to revel in finding yourself (I know, I'm so typical college freshman).  It's ok, it's ok, it's ok.

I am, I am, I am.
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Salvation came, just like April, in the form of words.  Salvation came in the form of someone willing to talk, willing to speak and not worry about what I was feeling and shy away but to speak to me.  Salvation came in the form of a decision.
It's not like it was a particularly emotional decision.  It's not like it was even a decision.  It wasn't a decision.  Salvation came in the form of Simon and Garfunkel, and April, coming like she always will.  And stupidly, I had never thought about it before.  And stupidly I always, always knew.  I was never immune, as much as I'd wanted to be, as much as I'd proclaimed to be.

No, salvation came in the form of words, a decision, never a real decision.
 "I'll never love you any less."
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"I don't have to fear it and I want to rock your gypsy soul
Just like way back in the days of old
And magnificently we will flow into the mystic"

"And together, together we will flow into the mystic."

Bicycles of Bombay

Upside down, a turtle's back
that's where I'd like to be;
run my hands along the grooves,
that's where I'd like to be.
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A look. That's all it would ever take, one single, tiny, pause of the eyes and that's all it would take. And god, aren't we all weak?  And god, aren't we all weak?
Because with one single look, that's all it would take.
I hate that.
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consume me out from the inside,
I'd do anything you want.
let the gnomes break down my
sturdy picket fences,
pulling tulips along the way.
white-gold ships will float
and those violin strings can break-
please consume me, inside out
I'd do anything, to turn my skin
wrong side out. know me,
you can't,
but I'd do anything you want.
on the horizon, your mirage
will be tangled, mountain Rainer
jet-like and upended.
I'd do anything you want.
and broken violin strings will whisper:
It was all a dream.
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October break really was a dream, a never-ending haze of fall colors and Gabe, Ridge and Sarah and Zoe.  A never-ending haze of ease, of chardonnay and endless Vermont sunsets.  It was a haze of appreciation for being home-- of the impermanence of what this new life is.  October was a haze of remembrances, dropping Sophie off at school, and showing Sarah and Zoe around, remembering chilly mornings and Witches Hat, locker rooms and coffee runs. Of lake st. catherine and slate quarries and the breathtaking beauty of it all. October break was a haze blurred with Mary and Kara and Sammi, Mummy and Rob.  I loved it, I loved it.
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Upside down, a turtle's back
that's where I'd like to be;
run my hands along the grooves,
that's where I'd like to be.
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"Once you get the feeling it
Wants you back for more
Says it's gonna heal it but
You won't make the call
One step back you're leaving it
Now it's moving on
Why won't you believe in it
'Till it's gone?"

"You are living, a reality
I left years ago, it quite nearly killed me/"

Keep the Car Running

This is weird.  This is weird. This. Is. Weird.
Not in a three year old me running through the house with my pajamas and a lightsaber screaming un-intelligible words kinda way.
And not in a kid who sits in the back of class picking the wings off flies kinda way either.
No, this is just weird.
Is it weird that I can't keep my emotions in check?  Is it weird that I want nothing to do with relationships but I want to hold someone's hand.  And I do mean a specific someone.
No, it's not weird.
Is it weird that my favorite movie is Spirited Away? Is it weird that I keep playing that night over and over and over in my mind even though I really am past it? Is it weird that temperature is the clearest reminder of possiblities? Freezing to warm, back to freezing to warm and then to buzzing.
Probably.
Is it weird that I am so afraid to become exactly what everyone teased me about? Is it weird that I hate love but I love so much?
"Honey, it isn't weird. It's life."
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This is weird (i'm sorry I've used that word so much) but I miss my mountains.  I miss my room and it's disorganized organization and I miss my mom.
I miss the predictable commute (not that my commute isn't predictable now, it's just long) and I miss catching glimpses of the sun rising over my mountains as I pass Anne Burns and reach the top of the hill to take me into Warren.
I don't miss the small town politics or even the judgmental grocery stares because yes, I am Rob's daughter and if you think I had anything to do with what went down in the school you're a close minded asshole.
I miss skiing. Not racing.  I miss skiing and being around everyone who could ski.  I miss adventures in climbing waterfalls at the bobbin mill, impromptu hikes, sitting on the porch at night and watching the sunset.
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It's weird, being so comfortable in your own space.  I miss my mountains and I've never been so stressed in my life.  I'm tired and I have two essays and a test in the next few days and my feet are freezing.  But it's weird, being so comfortable.  It's weird to be happy.
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Lionsbreath

20 deep in the hole and it’s a shovel-covered dirt

or a dirt covered shovel but it doesn’t matter;

20 deep in the hole is a stained,

glass half empty kinda view.

Alibies and snakes teeth, they’re one and the same

and riot is my favorite word

at 20 deep it’s not the words,

but the way you say them,

your cowboy hats can’t protect you—

they never could and stop

sending far-fetched cries because

20 deep in the hole is a new place to be

and you are not full grown,

stop pretending to be

let the dirt be your star studded overcoat

lay your hands down and give praise

at 20 deep for the ether.

20 deep in the hole and it’s a shovel-covered dirt

or a dirt covered shovel but it doesn’t matter;

20 deep in the hole is a stained,

glass half full kinda view.

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All I can say is, it better be mountain day on monday or tuesday or I will do some serious damage.  Kmac, I'm looking to you.

"Every night my dream's the same, 

same old city with a different name"