Everybody has a story.... I miss hearing those stories. It's funny to think that years ago, I was sick of hearing people's stories. In the town I grew up in, people are always telling you their stories to the point where you come to not want to hear them anymore. But it's not like that everywhere. People don't seem to want to share their stories here.

An odd thing though is that a few books from past have been made into films. Recently, I saw that the book Into The Wild, written by Jon Krakaur, is the story of the life and death of Christopher McCandless, has been made into a film written and directed by Sean Penn. I remember really enjoying the book. It was a good story but was also very well written. The author did not just lay out the story chronologically, but relayed it as though you were uncovering the young man's journey, somewhat like a detective, trying to figure out what happened to Christopher McCandless. I look forward to seeing how it is depicted on the screen and listening to the story again.

Life's little showers

As she opened the window, to listen to the falling rain drops, she could smell the earth. It was as though the rain brought the earth to life, awakening it from a hibernatious drought. The grass looked greener; the leaves sparkled as the sun reflected off the water droplets and there was a silence, except for the falling rain. In moments like this, it feels like time stops. Yet, she knows, with each raindrop that falls, so does a second pass. It is within these moments, she wishes to stay, to breath in the heavy air and feel alive.

She's always loved watching storms. She reflects on a memory, one of her fondest, of enjoying a solitary afternoon on the beach, listening to the waves crashing on the shore. Then, as the dark clouds down the beach started moving closer, and the tourist ran for safety, she smelt the rain in the air, felt the temperature drop and heard the waves pick up. She watched the summer shower pass down the beach, gently moistening the warm sand crystals, and then it was gone. Like a wave on the beach, it had come and gone with little impact.

With the beach deserted she noticed there was one other person who had not ran for safety with the tourists and others. As he came into closer view, she realized she new him. It was Marc Sweet, the brother of a grade school friend. She had spent every weekend and some holidays with his family for the better part of 6th through 8th grade, although she had not seen any of them in a few years now. Marc was one of her friend Ruby's older brothers. There was also Lee; Lee was the oldest. She had had a tremendous crush on Marc for years, but everyone did. The whole family was very attractive. When she was younger, she often wondered if that was how it always was. Good-looking people get together and have good-looking kids.... it makes sense, using kid logic. If you were good-looking, you would be attracted to someone who was also good-looking and then your kids would automatically be attractive as well.

After the general salutations, Marc says, "Oh, can you believe Ruby's getting married?" A little surprised she said no, she hadn't heard. Not that she should be surprised. Ruby and Ralph had been together for years and everyone knew they would eventually get married, yet it some how did surprise her. "Wow," she said, "I didn't know." "Yeah," Marc replied, "it's weird that she's getting married before me, with Lee married." Then there was a silence as she took it in. It was the first one of her friends to get married, although she didn't really considered them friends anymore. She hadn't heard from Ruby in years. Still, it was a defining moment for her somehow.

While she was still taking it all in, Matthew wondered back to his truck, packed up his board and drove off. She thought how attractive he still was and remembered the childhood crush, yet those memories seemed so distant. She felt like the storm was in a way, introducing her to a new part of her life. Though she didn't know it at the time, she was entering the a part of life where, friends go their separate ways, get married, have kids, start careers, though not in that particular order.

As she sat at the window, looking out, she thought about how distant that memory now seems and how many summer showers she's watched come and go. Though she enjoys the storm and life it brings, she is still grappling with the friends she's lost along the way. As the sadness settles in, she realizes the rain has stopped and the clouds have moved on. She feels the sun's rays intensify and hears the birds begin to sing; she tries to relinquish the sadness and focus on the positive. She thinks of the many storms to come and friends she hopes to meet.

She thinks a lot about the past. Too much, she thinks, of people who have come and gone. Why do people have to go? Go, go, go is all people ever do. So much time has passed. She knows because her hair is long. It is long enough to cover her chest. The ends are wavy and when she sees them, it reminds her of the ocean and she smiles.

As the wind gently blows her hair off her shoulders behind her; it laps against her back and she can smell the moisture in the air. These are the days she loves. The air is heavy, weighing down, like a light blanket and comforting as such. The temperature is hot, but the rain brings a cool intermittent breeze. She falls asleep listening to the rain knowing when she wakes, the rain will be gone, like those she once held close.

Finally

After a frustrating struggle, last week there was a breakthrough with work and I am happy to announce I have finally found the backbone for the paper I've been bumbling through. Now I just need to finish writing it. While being unable to make headway on the paper. I've been complementing the infinite stack of scientific papers with some fictional works so as to igniting my appreciation for writing and word usage. In addition to doing so, I am currently trying to write a little every couple days, the first of which I posted here and will continue to post them as they come.

Anger filled her body, running swiftly through her veins, the residue of a bad dream. It seemed too real and the anger was all too familiar. She rose from a long sleep, yet exhausted from the dream, the way emotions are tiring. Turning on her pmp she steps into the shower. As the water temp is adjusted she hears it, one of his songs. Just a song to anyone else, but it is distinctly his in her mind. As thoughts of him weight on her heart she wonders why she hasn't deleted it, that song and every other thing that reminds her of him. How can she live her life being reminded of him, but she can't just delete everything that is associated with him. It would be a different life.

As the song changes, she pulls herself back to the task at hand: a shower. Let's not start the day sorrowful, she tells herself. Even the shower reminds her of him. The smoothness of his skin and his scent next to her bare body. It felt so comforting and safe to be in his arms, she remembers. How can he have hurt her... and now be with the last person she was close with. Hadn't he ruined her life enough?

There was nothing she could about it now. What was done is done. She focuses on her morning chores of watering the plants, caring for the dog, and making coffee. As she finishes up she notes the time and heads out to make her 10 o'clock appointment. As she listens to her bicycle tires on the pavement diligently and smoothly thrusting her forward in time and space, she wonders when the memories will fade. It's been two years, when will her life be her own again and not haunted by the past?

Peaks and Valley's

Even within the valley, there's a sh*t ton of hills.........

It still amazes me how I can wake up happy, be in tears by midday, and then smiling again by evening... all emotions centered around the project. The Project. It has become the focus of my life as well as the source aggravation and multiple meltdowns. Knowing the graduate school was going to be filled with feelings of floundering and frustration, I braced for what was to come; however, since arriving to NC and enduring this experience, my life has changed in more ways than I would have imagined. Like a person who finds they have cancer and dies within the week, relationships once strong quickly withered and now only exist in memories. A few new connections have been made, though shallow in comparison to the depth of those that have been lost.

However, reflections are not the point of this post; it is, that being the point, why has happiness' role been so slim within this experience? The reason I am pondering on this question is not to cause more internal aggravation and conflict, but because the time is approaching in which decisions are gong to be made as to the location of experiences and focus of the next chapter in my life, i.e. where I live and what I am going to be doing, a job, and I do not want to make the same mistake. Yes many lessons have been learned through this experience and I now know I am stronger than I had thought, but I have also learned that I give up more easily than before, do not try as hard, have become more hesitant, and recover just as slowly if not slower from being hurt.

So what have I decided? I haven't. I've been pondering this topic for a at least the past 6 months, but within the previous few months, it's been dominating thought processes. I guess I feel like I need something to work towards, to keep momentum, to carry me through this last year and send me into the next. So far, it hasn't presented itself, but perhaps the effort has been from the wrong direction. All I know is that I want to get this f*cking project finished and move on, but move onto what?

That is the question of the day, week, and year............

Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.
"My vacations ending I'm coming home late.
The weather was fine and the ocean was great.
And I can't wait to see you again."

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.
I barely even noticed that you were away.
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.
And everyone knows it whenever she flies.
And also when she comes down.

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.
Every stranger and drifter he greets.
And shakes hands with every loner he meets
with a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in toe.
Carrying with her the good things we know.
A reason to live and a reason to grow
To trust, to hold, to care

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car
without much regard to the moon or the stars.
Lazily killing the last of a jar
of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives
As soon he sees her hope fills his eyes.
But tears follow after at the end of the ride.
Cause he might never see her again.

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.
He screams over the sidewalk and into the drive.
The clock in the kitchen says two fifty five
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting patient and kind.
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign.
That the one that she cares for who's out of his mind
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.
Weary head hung down, eyes to the floor
He says, "Love I’m sorry" and she says, "What for?"
"I’m yours and that’s it, whatever
I should not have been gone for so long
I'm yours and that's it, forever
Your mine and that's it, forever"

~The Avett Brothers

Beach Bound

Tuesday we headed over to the OBX to try, once again, to retrieve a data logger that is MIA. After unsuccessfully searching, we headed to Canadian Hole, an area on the Pamlico Sound that is a popular wind surfing spot, and relaxed in the sun for a few hours before heading back to G-ville.

Being that Karza can't take the sun, I have frequently pondered ways to give her shade while on the beach and MacGyvered a shade tent with a sarong, cooler, and a few shovels. I was quite proud and excited that it worked. Karza was pretty stoked too not to have to wait in the back of the truck, her usual beach spot.

... and to bring it full circle, MacGyver was produced in Canada.

Sunday project

This weekends project was finally building a table to create more countertop space in the kitchen area. When living in a small apartment, unused space is a sad site and I had wanted to make this corner nook area usable for both Karza and myself. So, with a free scrap of plywood and some old 2" x 4"s, I went o work. Cutting the pieces was surprisingly easy, but putting them together, that was another story. The 2" x 4"s were so hard that after drilling hole through the wood, the screw was still having trouble and if I stepped up a size w/ the drill bit, the hole would have been too big. So many frustrating hours later, I had a somewhat stationary table. I didn't even screw the plywood onto the frame... it still needs some help. However, as long as one doesn't sit or stand on it, the table is sound.


Having big plans for the new addition to the apartment, I was sad at how quickly the space was filled. However, it is nice to have more countertop space and some room to crop veggies or better yet, for projects.... like drying herbs. I clipped back some the herbs and found there to be a plethora. I think I will hang them next time, but for now it a pleasant site to have lying around. I would like to note the tomatoes in the dish are delicious and cultivated by hers truly. I have not had the greener one yet; it is a heirloom variety and recently added to potted veggies outside, but the smaller ones are from the patio tomatoe and are delish. They are not very big, but just the right size for a sandwich, although I would suggest eating them on their own too. I forgot how good a tomatoe can taste. I can't wait to someday have a garden, in the ground, and grow lots of edible goodness year round.

Windy, but warm

Last weekend a few of the Geo girls and myself headed out to the OBX to try, unsuccessfully, to recover a logger that has gone M.I.A. As usual, the day turned out to have perfect weather, a little breezier than I would have preferred, but I've come accustomed to not actually getting in the ocean when I go to the beach up here, since it's usually too cold, i.e. 70 degrees or below.

However, the day was very pleasant and we even had enough time to make it down to the 2007 Nation's #1 beach, according to Dr.Beach, himself.

From left to right: Ari, Kat, me, Reanna, wth Karza infront

Out of all of us, Karza gets the poser award.

Plantings

The warm weather makes getting dirty and sweating irresistible, two things I have loved as long as I can remember and with nurseries overflowing with herbs, veggies, and perennials, I couldn't handle it anymore.... I have to add some to my backyard. With my neighbors having moved, after finishing nursing school, I was sad but happy entertaining the thought of having plants freely growing were I can tend and gaze at them outside my door. I had attempted planting a few echinacea, one of my favorite perennials, but Sampson, the K-9 resident slowly put an end that with his accurate urinary aiming capabilities. However, once I decided to make a plant bed in the backyard, I had the hardest time deciding what to put in it and how to go about it. Slowly over a few weeks, I played with dimensions and what plants to put where, never really deciding one way or the other.

Finally, I woke up Sunday morning, my first day off in weeks, and decided to do it. If it was a successful venture or it flopped, either way, I tried. After wandering around Lowe's hardware store I finally decided on the size: 6' long x 2' wide. I bought three 4" x 4" x 6' pieces, cut one piece into three 2' long pieces, and borrowed a shovel to break up the earth. The day was overcast and rain from the tropical storm that had wet the earth and was sprinkling here and there. It was the perfect day to make a bed.

I quickly got to work, before I could talk myself out of it, something I seem to easily be able to do and almost had accomplished while at the hardware store, and in about 2 hours I had broken up the earth, arranged, and planted to plants. I stepped back and admired my hard work, gleaming with pride. I couldn't walk away from my new accomplishment and was eager with anticipation to watch the plants grow and flourish, wishing I had done it when I first moved in.... thinking of how large the plants would be now.

However, I will only have the next year, or at least through spring semester, to watch the plants grow and they have been pleasant friend keeping Karza and I company while we enjoy the summer sunsets.



The bed consists of, from left to right back: lavendar, primadona echinacea, hyacinth bean, snow white echinacea, rosemary; from left to right front: creeping rasberry, garlic chives, strawberry, chives, and a creeping groundcover I can't remember the name of.

Happiness is the longing for repetition.

~ Milan Kundera

Over the past month I have been doing something I do not normally do... spreading myself thin, and handling it rather well. Normally, I am very hesitant to take on too much for the fear of not being able to follow through. However, I am finding joy in being able to manage the tasks and above all else, it keeps me busy and wanting to accomplish the various tasks. Sure there are hundreds of things I would rather be doing, but when I have a minute to reflect on the current moment, I am pleased with what I am doing. Though this sounds like something not that fantastic, it is for me. My time here in North Carolina has been begrudgingly arduous both personally and otherwise. Though I have often tried to create a schedule for myself, I never hold to them, but lately things have working along those lines and my planner has become a close companion. What is it about the familiar that is so comforting?

Unknown future

I've been thinking of my hometown a lot recently. I often ponder living there again, but wonder if it's just familiarity that I seek. When I visit, it is the wierdest feeling to walk down a street or enter a shop that is so familiar, yet I am a stranger.... a visitor. Even though I do not feel like a different person, than the one that left 8 years ago, the life I live now is much different than the life I had there. It would be interesting to give it a try, but there is so much saddness lingering there.

I wonder if I am seeking something from a memory that may not exist anymore.

The day has come and gone; slowly it seemed to pass, yet within the blink of an eye it's over....

open

Interactions and activities were cared for consciously, retarding time. I felt somewhat like a child, wide open and vulnerable taking great care in the simple actions of the passing moment. It was blissful and carefree, fulfilling.

New Music

I've been listening to the new Bright Eyes album, Casadaga, continuously. The video for Four Winds, one of the songs on the album and the EP put out before the album, is below.

The album as a whole is good, including a variety of sounds yet cohesive enough to flow from song to song. I am fond of the lyrics in the last song on the album, Lime Tree ....

The window closes, shocks roll over in a tidal wave
And all the color drains out of the frame
So pleased with a daydream that now living is no good
I took off my shoes and walked into the woods
I felt lost and found with every step I took

Sun brings smiles

The sun is out and the air is humid.... a bit chillier than I prefer (80 degrees F), but I am going to enjoy it. I feel free today. Why? That I am not sure, but I feel as though a release has occurred and although I have many tasks to accomplish before leaving town for a week, I am surprisingly not stressed.

I just hope the weather holds out for next week and is warm enough to enjoy the ocean water.... field work on the OBX is torturous stuff.....

Roanoke Rapids

In part of completing the coursework requirements for the current degree I am pursuing, The faculty decided I had to sit in on a field methods class. The class was not difficult, although I did not understand everything. The last assignment for the course is a big mapping project that takes place in Hot Springs, NC, but the weekend on which the field excursion occurred, I could not attend. So I arranged to do something closer and accomplishable within a day, at least the field component. However, since I did/do not know how to map geology, I coerced a few fellow grad students to accompany me.

The three of us + Karza headed up to a canal east of a damned river to look at outcrops. For those non-geologic folk reading, an outcrop is an exposure of rock or mineral deposit that can be seen on surface, i.e. that is not covered by soil or water.

Can anyone say outcrop?

All said and done, we had a good time blazing overgrown trails and looking at rocks, although I was somewhat preoccupied looking trying to i.d. the plants.

We always have fun in the field!
From left to right: Kat, Ari, Karza, and me

The day is overcast and water laden cooler air moves freely running a chill up my neck. There is a 30 percent chance of rain and the temperature outside is currently 65 degrees with an expected high of 72, a drastic change from the warm and welcomed 90 degree sunny weather of yesterday. Surprisingly, I was looking forward to today... the cooler temperature and clouds swollen with precipitation are an unalluring, yet motivating reason to stay inside and write, something I have found somewhat difficult the past few days.

Days like these make me want to curl up with a book and snuggle into a soft blanket or work on projects, anxiously awaiting attention, having been cast aside physically, though mentally still being developed and perfected. Memories of the mountains is where my mind goes on days like these, of my last adventure that of a trip to Yosemite. Hiking through changing topography with a slight chill in the passing air, just enough to offset the little perspiration accumulated from not being accustomed to the terrain. The clean, freezing-cold freshwater flowing down the mountain was a refreshing surprise as we made it to the top of a waterfall. We were only able to spend one night, but it was one of the best camping excursions I have been on yet.

So, I return to reality and the surmounting task laid before me. It is time to begin chipping away before the task at hand becomes too large. It's 9 a.m., time to start the work day.

... and so my thoughts wander back to memories....

Sometimes I wonder if the ideals and preferred life I am working towards is simply non-existent or unrealistic. For instance, I have fond memories of my home town, a small Atlantic coast laid back beach town. So fond, I yearn for the community and positive attitude that I associate with it, where things are slow moving, but people take the time to chat, have conversations with strangers, and the weather influences more than the decision to take an umbrella into work.

I cannot help but think that perhaps my fondness has become skewed and no such thing exists. When I am able to make it back to my home town, I can see it... hidden in the small locally owned and run businesses, dwarfed by large corporate chains. Although I could go off on a rant about development of small towns causing the community and culture to go extinct, that is not the purpose of this post.

It is not as though I am suggesting to prohibit growth and change in society, but more so I cam concerned that what I am working towards does not exist. Why worry about it, you may be saying... well, because soon my time here will be done and I am considering where I would like to move onto and in evaluating the positive and negative attributes of the few places I have spent a reasonable amount of time... I return to the fond thoughts of my home town. However, it is no longer what it was and has evolved.

Evolved....

Over the years I too have evolved and life has shaped not only my experiences but my memories. I have outgrown my home town and feel lost, searching for a new place to call home. As I type this a common phrase, reminding me that focusing on the present is often more beneficial than reflecting on the past or worrying about the future...

Wherever you go, there you are.