I just finished watching Vanilla Sky with my boyfriend, Ben.
The thing I liked most about the movie was the line:
“Every passing moment is another chance to turn it all around.”
Mistakes that I have made in my past plague me every day. I used to look in the mirror every morning with self-loathing…it became a ritual to cry in the shower…and sometimes I would cry myself to sleep in an empty bed while Ben was in the other room EverQuesting. It’s not so bad now. I am able to smile at that Alice in the Looking Glass and to love her again. (Though, sometimes I still cry in the shower.) These pains are part of the consequences that I own for my past actions. My little demons.
At one point, I think I sought to make up for the suffering that I had inflicted on Ben and others by causing myself pain. I found that no one can tear apart your soul like you can do to yourself. You can be your greatest enemy. Unfortunately my plan didn’t quite have the desired effect. Oh, I suffered…but damage one sustains emotionally does not easily fade. I’m still waiting for these wounds to heal. In the end I’ve prolonged Ben’s pain by prolonging my own.
But it’s not over. Every moment is another chance to turn it all around. God those words shot through me when I heard them. They MEAN something to me. They give me hope. And make me stronger.
To turn it all around and take the chance in living…whatever the outcome may be.
To honesty. To truth. To happiness. To life.
I want somebody who sees the pointlessness and still keeps their purpose in mind;
I want somebody who has a tortured soul...some of the time;
I want somebody who will either put out for me
or put me out of misery;
Or maybe just put it all to words and make me say, "You know, I never heard it put that way".
Make me say, "What did you just say?"
~Ani Difranco "Asking Too Much"
Saturday, May 25, 2002
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Well…I’m back from vacation. It was a blast, but I’m tired. The last night disintegrated into a huge farting contest between the boys. So disgusting, yet so hilarious. My friends may be fuck-nuts but they’re my friends, and I love them just the same. :)
Details will come later. Until then…
“Suddenly I’m on the street
Seven years disappears below my feet
Been breaking down
Do you want me now?
Do you want me now?”
~ Freddy Johnson from “Bad Reputation”
Details will come later. Until then…
“Suddenly I’m on the street
Seven years disappears below my feet
Been breaking down
Do you want me now?
Do you want me now?”
~ Freddy Johnson from “Bad Reputation”
Thursday, May 16, 2002
I go on vacation this Friday, May 17. After all of this pushing toward graduation, I’m so ready to have some pure, unadulterated fun. Fun with friends. What could be sweeter? Here’s to nights and days of laughter, good food, good drinks, and better wit and conversation. I am looking forward to it.
We’re always pushing toward something in life. Always some place we should be…something we have to achieve. And having goals is wonderful…burning with that desire to create, to do something with your life, is part of what gives our lives meaning. However, society has determined that there are only certain goals that are acceptable. And that there are certain paths we must follow to reach those goals. Those that step “outside of the box” are looked upon as aberrations in the pattern. They are regarded suspiciously and questioned. Only when they achieve something great are they applauded. Funny.
“All great people, before they were great, began with a dream.” My sister wrote that in my high school graduation card. Your life is a product of chance and the choices you make in those crossroads that life throws your way. I am at such a crossroads and I’ve come to a full stop in my pondering direction.
After my little vacation, I will start to seriously try and make a decision about the future direction of my life over the next year or so. Perhaps my friends will be able to provide some insight into my situation. And perhaps green and blue chickens will fall from the sky for 5 days and nights over the entire state of Nebraska.
:) Anyway, I am looking forward to it. :)
We’re always pushing toward something in life. Always some place we should be…something we have to achieve. And having goals is wonderful…burning with that desire to create, to do something with your life, is part of what gives our lives meaning. However, society has determined that there are only certain goals that are acceptable. And that there are certain paths we must follow to reach those goals. Those that step “outside of the box” are looked upon as aberrations in the pattern. They are regarded suspiciously and questioned. Only when they achieve something great are they applauded. Funny.
“All great people, before they were great, began with a dream.” My sister wrote that in my high school graduation card. Your life is a product of chance and the choices you make in those crossroads that life throws your way. I am at such a crossroads and I’ve come to a full stop in my pondering direction.
After my little vacation, I will start to seriously try and make a decision about the future direction of my life over the next year or so. Perhaps my friends will be able to provide some insight into my situation. And perhaps green and blue chickens will fall from the sky for 5 days and nights over the entire state of Nebraska.
:) Anyway, I am looking forward to it. :)
Saturday, May 11, 2002
On Decisions, Suffering, and Burning
I had my last final on Thursday…I studied all evening the night before and was still convinced that I was going to fail. In truth, the only way I could get an A on that final was to have studied the entire whole week before and then some. So my C that I’m sure I made will suffice.
I probably won’t be an honor graduate, but I’m a graduate. As of today, I am a college graduate. Wooohoooo!!! 5 long and simultaneously short years of my life gone. I was 19 years old when all of this madness began…I am now 23. Marshall University’s commencement exercises started this morning at 9AM. I chose not to walk ‘cause I didn’t know anyone I was graduating with (All of my friends left a year or so before me.) So I was still in bed dreaming.
And speaking of dreaming, I had an odd dream this morning just before I woke.
Here it goes: My parents were moving into a house in Beckley, WV. (They currently live 7 miles outside that tiny city.) I lived with them and for some reason I was convinced that I was going to have to go to Woodrow Wilson High School and I was a little upset. (After all, I had attended Liberty High my entire high school career and didn’t want to leave my friends.) I confronted my mom about it and she told me, with a puzzled expression, that I didn’t have to worry about going to Woodrow Wilson. I was relieved. So I can just drive everyday to Liberty, then? Nope, she said, with a look of worry now growing on her face. At that point I was confused and my dad started looking at me like I had gone batty. Then I realized that I had graduated high school in 1996. And then I realized that I was a college graduate. And I woke up.
Weird dream. Definitely some graduation anxiety in there somewhere, me thinks.
I woke about 10Am this morning and got a huge glass of water to get rid of that dry, yucky morning mouth. And then I plodded into the computer room and worked on reconciling the checkbook all morning. After projecting how far into debt with me Ben would run at the end of this month and how long it would take him to recover, and finding the answer not as bad as I had anticipated, I was content.
I found that I have $1900 in savings. Not bad. So in spite of his bleeding over, we’ll be okay. And he’ll be a lifeguard when we return from our little vacation avec nos amis. And I suppose I’ll still be working as a legal clerk/paralegal for Ms. Hazel A. Straub, Esquire.
My big decision now is, as I have been ranting about for the last month or so, figuring out when, where, and how I’m going to grad school. I know I need my M.A. in Psych to get licensed, which is the eventual goal. The longer I wait to go, the harder it’s going to be, or so “they” say. I don’t know if what the elusive “they” say is always quite true. I was forced to take a year off after high school before I jumped into my undergraduate, but I was all eagerness to go when I eventually had the chance.
(My dad was a coal miner and he lost his job right before I graduated. I was terrified of loans and, honestly, my parent’s needed my help. My brother and sister had financial responsibilities of their own that they were juggling. And so it was me. I didn’t and don’t mind. They’ve given me so much, emotionally and materially. I want to give them everything they could ever want. Not in any attempt to repay them, because that could never be done, but in an attempt to show them just how much they mean to me. To show them how much I love them and what wonderful parents I think they are. )
How’s that for digression. Anyway, I don’t think waiting a year will harm my desire to pursue my M.A. And I have to consider the Ben factor. He has decided that he will finish college at Marshall next year with a Reagents degree. Smart move, in my opinion. It will take him two semesters to finish in this way. That’s a semester less than if he continued with his Information Systems degree or any other specialized degree. Very smart.
The bad news is that this limits my options. I can’t exactly pick up and move to Lexington to go to University of Kentucky without him. But I don’t really want to go through Marshall’s Master’s program for the simple reason that half of the curriculum would be repeat classes for me. You see, Marshall is painfully understaffed…I understand that this is due to poor allocation of financial resources. We have a MAC championship football team but our Master’s psychology program sucks. Half of the classes for my graduate degree, I’ve already taken…so I would have to sit through the lectures again with the undergraduates. I suppose the additional paper that the graduate students are required to write is supposed to provide them with that extra bit of knowledge. I suppose that’s what makes the class a grad level class…a fucking paper. Bullshit!
The pros to attending Marshall are…well…it’s cheaper and close to home and family. I’m already established with a good job and a kick ass apartment. At UK, I would have to get a teaching assistanceship or a research assistanceship, and those aren’t given to just anyone. They actually have to want you to be in their program. I have no idea if they would want me. And if I begin at Marshall, I have to finish there. You can’t really transfer from one grad program to another and keep the same status. If I transferred I would be a newbie all over again.
Decisions, decisions. Those Buddhists know what they’re talking about…life is suffering. They say that to free myself of suffering I must “abandon desire and selfishness”. Hmmmm…so I should not want to make $80, 000 a year? Well, if I didn’t want to make that much money, then I wouldn’t need to get my M.A. degree. And if I don’t pursue this degree then I won’t be faced with this decision. And if I’m not faced with this decision and I won’t be suffering. It makes sense. I suppose I could just sit on my tushy all day and play computer games.
But there’s a problem with this. I could never be content like that. I have desire constantly rushing through my blood, burning in my mind, and pulsing in my chest. A desire to live life to the fullest…to truly live. A desire to achieve all of my goals and dreams. To touch and feel and love and be burning bright and alive. I can’t rid myself of this desire. To do so would be to give up on life.
Suffering, like life, is temporary. When I die, I won’t suffer any longer. So if suffering is to be my lot, if that is what life is, I will take it. Because I have endured a bit of suffering in the past, but I have also felt much joy and touched much beauty.
Here’s to burning.
“And as the walls come down and
As I look in your eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times
I have died
and will die.
It's all right.
I don't mind.”
~ Tool from “H.” on the Aenima Album
I had my last final on Thursday…I studied all evening the night before and was still convinced that I was going to fail. In truth, the only way I could get an A on that final was to have studied the entire whole week before and then some. So my C that I’m sure I made will suffice.
I probably won’t be an honor graduate, but I’m a graduate. As of today, I am a college graduate. Wooohoooo!!! 5 long and simultaneously short years of my life gone. I was 19 years old when all of this madness began…I am now 23. Marshall University’s commencement exercises started this morning at 9AM. I chose not to walk ‘cause I didn’t know anyone I was graduating with (All of my friends left a year or so before me.) So I was still in bed dreaming.
And speaking of dreaming, I had an odd dream this morning just before I woke.
Here it goes: My parents were moving into a house in Beckley, WV. (They currently live 7 miles outside that tiny city.) I lived with them and for some reason I was convinced that I was going to have to go to Woodrow Wilson High School and I was a little upset. (After all, I had attended Liberty High my entire high school career and didn’t want to leave my friends.) I confronted my mom about it and she told me, with a puzzled expression, that I didn’t have to worry about going to Woodrow Wilson. I was relieved. So I can just drive everyday to Liberty, then? Nope, she said, with a look of worry now growing on her face. At that point I was confused and my dad started looking at me like I had gone batty. Then I realized that I had graduated high school in 1996. And then I realized that I was a college graduate. And I woke up.
Weird dream. Definitely some graduation anxiety in there somewhere, me thinks.
I woke about 10Am this morning and got a huge glass of water to get rid of that dry, yucky morning mouth. And then I plodded into the computer room and worked on reconciling the checkbook all morning. After projecting how far into debt with me Ben would run at the end of this month and how long it would take him to recover, and finding the answer not as bad as I had anticipated, I was content.
I found that I have $1900 in savings. Not bad. So in spite of his bleeding over, we’ll be okay. And he’ll be a lifeguard when we return from our little vacation avec nos amis. And I suppose I’ll still be working as a legal clerk/paralegal for Ms. Hazel A. Straub, Esquire.
My big decision now is, as I have been ranting about for the last month or so, figuring out when, where, and how I’m going to grad school. I know I need my M.A. in Psych to get licensed, which is the eventual goal. The longer I wait to go, the harder it’s going to be, or so “they” say. I don’t know if what the elusive “they” say is always quite true. I was forced to take a year off after high school before I jumped into my undergraduate, but I was all eagerness to go when I eventually had the chance.
(My dad was a coal miner and he lost his job right before I graduated. I was terrified of loans and, honestly, my parent’s needed my help. My brother and sister had financial responsibilities of their own that they were juggling. And so it was me. I didn’t and don’t mind. They’ve given me so much, emotionally and materially. I want to give them everything they could ever want. Not in any attempt to repay them, because that could never be done, but in an attempt to show them just how much they mean to me. To show them how much I love them and what wonderful parents I think they are. )
How’s that for digression. Anyway, I don’t think waiting a year will harm my desire to pursue my M.A. And I have to consider the Ben factor. He has decided that he will finish college at Marshall next year with a Reagents degree. Smart move, in my opinion. It will take him two semesters to finish in this way. That’s a semester less than if he continued with his Information Systems degree or any other specialized degree. Very smart.
The bad news is that this limits my options. I can’t exactly pick up and move to Lexington to go to University of Kentucky without him. But I don’t really want to go through Marshall’s Master’s program for the simple reason that half of the curriculum would be repeat classes for me. You see, Marshall is painfully understaffed…I understand that this is due to poor allocation of financial resources. We have a MAC championship football team but our Master’s psychology program sucks. Half of the classes for my graduate degree, I’ve already taken…so I would have to sit through the lectures again with the undergraduates. I suppose the additional paper that the graduate students are required to write is supposed to provide them with that extra bit of knowledge. I suppose that’s what makes the class a grad level class…a fucking paper. Bullshit!
The pros to attending Marshall are…well…it’s cheaper and close to home and family. I’m already established with a good job and a kick ass apartment. At UK, I would have to get a teaching assistanceship or a research assistanceship, and those aren’t given to just anyone. They actually have to want you to be in their program. I have no idea if they would want me. And if I begin at Marshall, I have to finish there. You can’t really transfer from one grad program to another and keep the same status. If I transferred I would be a newbie all over again.
Decisions, decisions. Those Buddhists know what they’re talking about…life is suffering. They say that to free myself of suffering I must “abandon desire and selfishness”. Hmmmm…so I should not want to make $80, 000 a year? Well, if I didn’t want to make that much money, then I wouldn’t need to get my M.A. degree. And if I don’t pursue this degree then I won’t be faced with this decision. And if I’m not faced with this decision and I won’t be suffering. It makes sense. I suppose I could just sit on my tushy all day and play computer games.
But there’s a problem with this. I could never be content like that. I have desire constantly rushing through my blood, burning in my mind, and pulsing in my chest. A desire to live life to the fullest…to truly live. A desire to achieve all of my goals and dreams. To touch and feel and love and be burning bright and alive. I can’t rid myself of this desire. To do so would be to give up on life.
Suffering, like life, is temporary. When I die, I won’t suffer any longer. So if suffering is to be my lot, if that is what life is, I will take it. Because I have endured a bit of suffering in the past, but I have also felt much joy and touched much beauty.
Here’s to burning.
“And as the walls come down and
As I look in your eyes
My fear begins to fade
Recalling all of the times
I have died
and will die.
It's all right.
I don't mind.”
~ Tool from “H.” on the Aenima Album
Tuesday, May 07, 2002
I am lonely tonight.
I had my first final today...t'was easy as pie. I came home from school and slept
and slept...and I wasn't really that tired. I think that maybe I was just avoiding
studying for my english final. My final final...which is on Thursday. My terrible
thought concerning not passing that class has been dispelled. My english
professor took the class (all 5 of us) out to lunch at Calamity Cafe last Thursday
and he assured us that a C is the lowest grade anyone will receive in the course.
So now I find myself very reluctant to study...knowing that I'll pass the class if I
put no effort into this exam. Pathetic, isn't it?
See the thing is that I'm so tired inside. So mentally and emotionally
drained. Life over the past 5 years has been eventful and exhausting, to say
the least. I just want to lay myself down and dream and dream and dream until
my mind is clear. I want to sink into that sweet, seductive oblivion and wake
knowing where I'm going. No more half truths or confused answers. Clarity
of vision. Clarity of purpose.
I have let life beat me down to this...shell. It's time to rebuild...time for a new
beginning...time to start over.
Maybe I won't feel lonely forever.
"Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever.
I just want to start things over."
~Tool from Sober on the album Undertow
I had my first final today...t'was easy as pie. I came home from school and slept
and slept...and I wasn't really that tired. I think that maybe I was just avoiding
studying for my english final. My final final...which is on Thursday. My terrible
thought concerning not passing that class has been dispelled. My english
professor took the class (all 5 of us) out to lunch at Calamity Cafe last Thursday
and he assured us that a C is the lowest grade anyone will receive in the course.
So now I find myself very reluctant to study...knowing that I'll pass the class if I
put no effort into this exam. Pathetic, isn't it?
See the thing is that I'm so tired inside. So mentally and emotionally
drained. Life over the past 5 years has been eventful and exhausting, to say
the least. I just want to lay myself down and dream and dream and dream until
my mind is clear. I want to sink into that sweet, seductive oblivion and wake
knowing where I'm going. No more half truths or confused answers. Clarity
of vision. Clarity of purpose.
I have let life beat me down to this...shell. It's time to rebuild...time for a new
beginning...time to start over.
Maybe I won't feel lonely forever.
"Why can't we not be sober?
I just want to start this over.
Why can't we drink forever.
I just want to start things over."
~Tool from Sober on the album Undertow
My first final is tomorrow. I’m one step closer to graduation and my future is a blur.
Who are you today, Christina? What do you want? Where do you want to be?
Is that your skin you’re hiding in?
Or something you found lying there on the ground?
Are those your eyes, the color of ice?
And the hardness of steel is just what is real.
On the Inside
Is that your tongue that you’re biting on?
The words you might say, they could get in your way.
Well, Is that your heart, breaking apart?
What we try not to feel only time can reveal
On the Inside
Who are you today, Christina? What do you want? Where do you want to be?
Is that your skin you’re hiding in?
Or something you found lying there on the ground?
Are those your eyes, the color of ice?
And the hardness of steel is just what is real.
On the Inside
Is that your tongue that you’re biting on?
The words you might say, they could get in your way.
Well, Is that your heart, breaking apart?
What we try not to feel only time can reveal
On the Inside
Monday, May 06, 2002
Alice's Adventures in White Water Rafting Land
Today has been a day of freezing and exhaustion.
Here I sit in my cuddly purple bathrobe, finally warm, after a nice long hot shower…and I’m wondering, “How did all of this insanity begin?”
Well it all started on Thursday. I received a call at about 11am from Ben asking me if I wanted to go white water rafting on the New River with our friends Shawn and Burnsy on the following morning. I was instantly terror-stricken.
You see, I grew up in the Beckley area of West Virginia…very near to the wondrous white water rafting tours…and I had never once been. Being so close, one might imagine that I would go all of the time…but no. I had never even wanted to go and there was good reason for that, I assure you. My brother worked as a white water rafting guide on the New and Gaulley Rivers and occasionally had a terror-inducing story to tell about things that had gone wrong during one of his or his co-workers trips down the rivers. In short, I knew what could go wrong…I knew the danger and risk involved…and it was never something that I’ve been willing to do. Until Thursday, that is.
With great reservations, I agreed to go along on the tri p with the boys. I simply repeated over and over that I didn’t want to die now that I was so close to graduating college. My friend Shawn promised that if I died, he would write a poem about it. Although amusing, this thought was not very comforting.
And although I want to finish writing this…I’m too fucking tired. I just dozed off typing at my computer…need sleep. I will finish tomorrow. Night. (saved at 11PM 5/4/02)
Okay where was I? (5/5/02)
The plan was that Shawn would drive down from Columbus on Friday evening, take Mami (the Japanese girl) out to see Spiderman, and then would drive to our apartment, most likely arriving at about 1AM. From there we would go to Burnsy’s house in Hinton…arriving at about 3:30AM. Then we would crash and get up at 6AM so that we could drive to Oak Hill to the whitewater rafting company. Fun schedule, to say the least.
I came home from work Friday and went to bed, hoping to get some sleep so that I wouldn’t be so miserable on the drive to Hinton. Well I slept for a couple of hours, but was awakened at about 10:30 by the gentle “ding dong” of the doorbell. I throw my robe on, stumble down the hall and up the stairs, and open the door to find my friend and former apartment-mate Ken waiting there. Of course, I’m happy to see him and greet him with a hug and then proceed to pressure him into going with us on the white water rafting trip. The poor bastard caved in within 30 minutes. The only problem was that he didn’t have any clothes clean to change into the next day, so I throw his clothes in the washer and we head out to WALMART to buy some water “swimmy” shoes to wear in the raft. We came back and got all of our stuff together and Ken’s clothes dried just as Shawn arrived, very tired, on our doorstep.
It was decided that I would drive since we were going to be driving through my home area, and so we all piled in the car and started this nutzy trip. The first sign of trouble was when, just past Beckley, we took the wrong split in the road and drove 7 miles in the wrong direction. I ended up cutting across the parking area at the tollbooth and driving back and taking the correct road. After that we found Burnsy’s house with relatively little trouble, but that little error had put us 30 minutes behind schedule. So it was 4AM when we finally arrived, very exhausted, on his doorstep.
Considering the time, the boys declared that they weren’t going to go to sleep…that it would just make them more tired the next day…so they decided to play a bit on the X-Box. I thought they were fucking nutz and proceeded to stretch out on the couch with a pillow and my soft, wooly plaid blanket.
I awoke after two hours to a lick on the mouth from one of the two hulking beasts that Burns calls his dogs. I wipe my face and sit up very confused…mumbling incoherently. Burns shoves a Xenadrine, which is essentially an upper that is legally sold at GNC, in my face and tells me to take it. I swallow that bad boy and within minutes I’m awake and ready to go! Everyone else popped their pills…none of us even bothered with showering. What was the point? We would be drenched in nasty river water soon enough.
We stepped outside and that’s when the coldness began. It must have been about 40 degrees…no streak of sunlight to be found anywhere. “Lovely”, I thought, “All it needs to do now is start raining.”
After meeting up with a couple of Burnsy’s friends, we drove the hour to the white water rafting area. I paid my fees and then went to get my wet suit. There working the wet suit counter was a 12 to 13 year old girl…I knew instantly that she was going to give me the wrong size. “What size to you think you’ll need?” says the little girl. “Well, I don’t know really. I’ve never done this before. Maybe a large? I’m 6’1” so it needs to be long enough.” She hands me a medium, which is obviously too short, and tells me to try it on and if it doesn’t fit to come back for a larger size. I tried to tell her that I knew it wouldn’t fit and to give me a large but she just repeated herself. So I go back and try fitting into that ridiculously short wet suit. Of course, I can’t get it up onto my shoulders…so I go back and get a larger size.
Once suited up all those going on the rafting trip gathered in the well…gathering area. There were about 40 people and the majority of those were men. They proceeded to give us a schpeal about what we would be doing, told us we must listen to our guides at all costs…our lives depended on it, and told us that there was a chance that we might die or become seriously injured during our white water rafting experience. Then they passed out the consent forms and asked us to sign our lives away. That’s always a pleasant experience. Anyway, I didn’t even read it…just glanced through and saw the phrase “hold harmless for death, dismemberment, etc.”… so I stopped reading and just signed.
So we got our life jackets and headgear and hopped on a bus that drove us to Prince, WV, where our guides and the boats were waiting on us. Our guide was named Clay and was sometimes called Crazy Clay. At this point I was a bit wary of Crazy Clay…I didn’t feel like being crazy and dying a tragic death without ever having truly lived.
So he explains how to row, what to do if we fall out of the raft, and what to avoid in the river. We lift the raft and carry it over to the water and hop in and we’re on our way.
And now it starts getting cold. I was a bit chilly while changing into the wet suit in the unheated dressing rooms but had warmed up considerably during the bus ride. But in order to get in the boat we, of course, have to step in the icy water. (At this point it had only warmed up to about 46 degrees.) Not only did we step in icy water, but find that there is a nice puddle of water in the boat where we must lodge our feet in order to keep from falling out. So I spent all day with my feet in fucking freezing water. Nice.
The river was up about 15 feet so the rapids weren’t really all that exciting. We probably had about two that were fun at all. For the most part the trip was a lot of rowing and shivering. Once we got wet after the first rapids the wind became my worst enemy. It was so fucking cold!!!! My hands turned a nice red color and by the end of the day it seemed as if they might be permanently molded around my oar. And it rained almost the whole damn time that we were on the river. So the cold sucked. The rain sucked. The wind sucked. And the rapids sucked. But in a way I was a bit relieved that the rapids weren’t that intense. This was my first time and I was terrified of falling out, panicking, and possibly drowning. Not exactly my preferred way to bite it.
Anyway another annoyance was the idiot that was rowing in front of me. He was a friend of Burns’s from work named Graham. Graham seemed like a nice enough guy…but he put absolutely nothing into rowing and was constantly out of time. See the idea is that the first two people in the raft watch each other and try to coordinate their rowing. Then the person behind each one of them is supposed to watch the lead person on their side and try to row together with them. And the person behind that second person is supposed to watch and row in time with them and so on all the way to the back. The guide sits in the back and steers. Well, Ben sat in the front on the left side and Burns sat in the front on the right. They were pretty much rowing together. Graham sat behind Ben and I was behind Graham and then Ken was behind me. Well this guy Graham kept getting out of time…Ben later complained that he kept hitting oars with him and fucking him up. I was so frustrated. He made it impossible for me to keep a steady rowing rhythm because whenever I was coordinated with Ben, he would fuck up and get his oar in my way, so I’d have to stop and get in time with him. Fucking loser! I’m a girl and I can do this shit better than that! And the sad thing is that he had been rafting a time or two before! Anyway, Ken thought that I was the one screwing up…he said he kept wondering, “Is Christina really that shitty? That uncoordinated?” Thank God I’m not. I was simply being hindered and frustrated by that fuck nut sitting ahead of me. I swear the next time I go, I’m going to sit just behind the lead. That way, if there are any shitty rowers they’ll all be behind me and won’t fuck with my rowing contribution.
Our 20-mile trip down the river was over by 3PM and I believe we were all thankful to get out of the water. Some people from the company had some hot apple cider waiting on us when we got out of the raft…I’ve never in my life been more thrilled to see a hot beverage. I stood shivering in the rain holding it in my hands. It was still too hot to take a drink.
We all, with our hot apple cider, piled on the bus and the bus windows steamed up. The poor driver had to keep wiping the window down with a cloth so that he could see to drive. I was jolted and my cider spilled onto my hands and lap with every bump and hole the bus wheels found. The bumps and holes were many. By the time the cider was cool enough to drink, I had spilled half of it on myself.
That warmed me a bit, but then we had to get off of the nice cozy bus and go back out into the cold. So we went to Shawn’s car, got our dry clothing, and stripped out of those dripping wet wetsuits. I put on three layers of shirts, but forgot my socks…and I was wearing only sandals.
By 3:30PM we all met in the gathering hall and took advantage of either the free Natural Light or the free hot chocolate. I opted for hot chocolate. We once again jumped in the car and proceeded to drive back to Hinton to drop Burns off and get our stuff. Burns, being the unfortunate bitch of the group, drove. The trip was an extremely sleepy one, each one of us dreading the thought that we might be the one who would have to drive from Hinton back to Charleston. The highlight of this journey was singing along with the songs “Uncle Fucker” and “Bitch” from the South Park the Movie Soundtrack, and “Under the Sea” from the Little Mermaid Soundtrack.
We got to Burns’s house at about 4:30PM and he found that he didn’t have his keys on him. He checked the car and his bag to no avail and eventually learned that he had somehow left them in Graham’s truck. So his friend Greg drives him back to Shady Spring to pick up the keys, while Ken, Shawn, Ben, Crystal (Burns’s woman), and I sit on the tiny covered porch cold and miserable. We tried opening both the front and back doors by the old credit card method, but that didn’t work. Finally Ken suggests that I try to reach through the doggy door and see if I can reach the lock since I have monkey arms.
The ground was wet so I just crouch down and I can’t do it. We go back around to the front porch and wait. Then Crystal goes to the back door to try something…Ken follows…and I decide to go check out what they’re doing. Activity was attractive…I was hoping it would keep me warm. Crystal lays down one of the towels she has and suggests that I lay on my back and try to reach the lock through the doggy door that way. And it worked.
We got in the house and flopped down on the couches and buried ourselves in warm blankets, waiting for Burnsy to arrive. He gets there before we’ve barely had a chance to warm up and we say goodbye, gather our things and leave. Shawn, God bless his black heart, decided to drive. We all wanted dinner and I voted for Pizzeria Uno. No one else having any strong opinions at this point, agreed. We got there and had to wait 30 minutes to get a table. We were waiting near the door and the slightest hint of the cold air would set us to shivering. Mentally everyone was drained…physically everyone was drained. My muscles hurt from intense usage and my bones seemed to ache from the cold. Also I had those nasty achy pains that one experiences from lack of sleep. It was lovely.
One good thing I can say about that day ending was that the food was good. So after we ate we dropped Ken off at his parent’s house, and headed back to our apartment. Shawn crashed on the couch and Ben hopped in bed. I called my folks to let them know that I had survived the New River and then took a nice, long, hot shower. I turned the water on and sat down in the tub and just let it work it’s healing magic.
I got out of the shower and decided that I must record the events and sensations while they were still fresh in my mind. But as you can tell, I didn’t make it very far before my exhaustion took over. I slept like a baby, and I still needed more sleep when I woke this morning. And every muscle in my body is sore from the exertion…It feels good.
I have been white water rafting. I have survived a very cold, but mild New River. I can’t wait to go again in August. WHEN IT’S FUCKING WARM!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I’ve missed this exercise soreness…I used to have it all of the time when I was in high school…before the time consuming things called college and love relationship entered my life. Honestly, I should’ve could’ve worked out in the last five years…I did for a period of 2 months (pathetic)…but I felt too emotionally exhausted. (If that makes any sense.) Depression makes you tired…makes you want to sleep. And when you give all the energy you’ve got to keeping your job and keeping your GPA at an acceptable level…well…let’s just say I didn’t have anything else to give. But I’ve decided that I’m going to join a local gym now. I need to shed 30lbs to get back my high school figure…20 to get back my figure from freshman year of college. It should only take me, what, 3 or 4 months? Maybe 5? I’m starting on that as soon as I kick ass on my finals this coming week. Wish me luck!
Today has been a day of freezing and exhaustion.
Here I sit in my cuddly purple bathrobe, finally warm, after a nice long hot shower…and I’m wondering, “How did all of this insanity begin?”
Well it all started on Thursday. I received a call at about 11am from Ben asking me if I wanted to go white water rafting on the New River with our friends Shawn and Burnsy on the following morning. I was instantly terror-stricken.
You see, I grew up in the Beckley area of West Virginia…very near to the wondrous white water rafting tours…and I had never once been. Being so close, one might imagine that I would go all of the time…but no. I had never even wanted to go and there was good reason for that, I assure you. My brother worked as a white water rafting guide on the New and Gaulley Rivers and occasionally had a terror-inducing story to tell about things that had gone wrong during one of his or his co-workers trips down the rivers. In short, I knew what could go wrong…I knew the danger and risk involved…and it was never something that I’ve been willing to do. Until Thursday, that is.
With great reservations, I agreed to go along on the tri p with the boys. I simply repeated over and over that I didn’t want to die now that I was so close to graduating college. My friend Shawn promised that if I died, he would write a poem about it. Although amusing, this thought was not very comforting.
And although I want to finish writing this…I’m too fucking tired. I just dozed off typing at my computer…need sleep. I will finish tomorrow. Night. (saved at 11PM 5/4/02)
Okay where was I? (5/5/02)
The plan was that Shawn would drive down from Columbus on Friday evening, take Mami (the Japanese girl) out to see Spiderman, and then would drive to our apartment, most likely arriving at about 1AM. From there we would go to Burnsy’s house in Hinton…arriving at about 3:30AM. Then we would crash and get up at 6AM so that we could drive to Oak Hill to the whitewater rafting company. Fun schedule, to say the least.
I came home from work Friday and went to bed, hoping to get some sleep so that I wouldn’t be so miserable on the drive to Hinton. Well I slept for a couple of hours, but was awakened at about 10:30 by the gentle “ding dong” of the doorbell. I throw my robe on, stumble down the hall and up the stairs, and open the door to find my friend and former apartment-mate Ken waiting there. Of course, I’m happy to see him and greet him with a hug and then proceed to pressure him into going with us on the white water rafting trip. The poor bastard caved in within 30 minutes. The only problem was that he didn’t have any clothes clean to change into the next day, so I throw his clothes in the washer and we head out to WALMART to buy some water “swimmy” shoes to wear in the raft. We came back and got all of our stuff together and Ken’s clothes dried just as Shawn arrived, very tired, on our doorstep.
It was decided that I would drive since we were going to be driving through my home area, and so we all piled in the car and started this nutzy trip. The first sign of trouble was when, just past Beckley, we took the wrong split in the road and drove 7 miles in the wrong direction. I ended up cutting across the parking area at the tollbooth and driving back and taking the correct road. After that we found Burnsy’s house with relatively little trouble, but that little error had put us 30 minutes behind schedule. So it was 4AM when we finally arrived, very exhausted, on his doorstep.
Considering the time, the boys declared that they weren’t going to go to sleep…that it would just make them more tired the next day…so they decided to play a bit on the X-Box. I thought they were fucking nutz and proceeded to stretch out on the couch with a pillow and my soft, wooly plaid blanket.
I awoke after two hours to a lick on the mouth from one of the two hulking beasts that Burns calls his dogs. I wipe my face and sit up very confused…mumbling incoherently. Burns shoves a Xenadrine, which is essentially an upper that is legally sold at GNC, in my face and tells me to take it. I swallow that bad boy and within minutes I’m awake and ready to go! Everyone else popped their pills…none of us even bothered with showering. What was the point? We would be drenched in nasty river water soon enough.
We stepped outside and that’s when the coldness began. It must have been about 40 degrees…no streak of sunlight to be found anywhere. “Lovely”, I thought, “All it needs to do now is start raining.”
After meeting up with a couple of Burnsy’s friends, we drove the hour to the white water rafting area. I paid my fees and then went to get my wet suit. There working the wet suit counter was a 12 to 13 year old girl…I knew instantly that she was going to give me the wrong size. “What size to you think you’ll need?” says the little girl. “Well, I don’t know really. I’ve never done this before. Maybe a large? I’m 6’1” so it needs to be long enough.” She hands me a medium, which is obviously too short, and tells me to try it on and if it doesn’t fit to come back for a larger size. I tried to tell her that I knew it wouldn’t fit and to give me a large but she just repeated herself. So I go back and try fitting into that ridiculously short wet suit. Of course, I can’t get it up onto my shoulders…so I go back and get a larger size.
Once suited up all those going on the rafting trip gathered in the well…gathering area. There were about 40 people and the majority of those were men. They proceeded to give us a schpeal about what we would be doing, told us we must listen to our guides at all costs…our lives depended on it, and told us that there was a chance that we might die or become seriously injured during our white water rafting experience. Then they passed out the consent forms and asked us to sign our lives away. That’s always a pleasant experience. Anyway, I didn’t even read it…just glanced through and saw the phrase “hold harmless for death, dismemberment, etc.”… so I stopped reading and just signed.
So we got our life jackets and headgear and hopped on a bus that drove us to Prince, WV, where our guides and the boats were waiting on us. Our guide was named Clay and was sometimes called Crazy Clay. At this point I was a bit wary of Crazy Clay…I didn’t feel like being crazy and dying a tragic death without ever having truly lived.
So he explains how to row, what to do if we fall out of the raft, and what to avoid in the river. We lift the raft and carry it over to the water and hop in and we’re on our way.
And now it starts getting cold. I was a bit chilly while changing into the wet suit in the unheated dressing rooms but had warmed up considerably during the bus ride. But in order to get in the boat we, of course, have to step in the icy water. (At this point it had only warmed up to about 46 degrees.) Not only did we step in icy water, but find that there is a nice puddle of water in the boat where we must lodge our feet in order to keep from falling out. So I spent all day with my feet in fucking freezing water. Nice.
The river was up about 15 feet so the rapids weren’t really all that exciting. We probably had about two that were fun at all. For the most part the trip was a lot of rowing and shivering. Once we got wet after the first rapids the wind became my worst enemy. It was so fucking cold!!!! My hands turned a nice red color and by the end of the day it seemed as if they might be permanently molded around my oar. And it rained almost the whole damn time that we were on the river. So the cold sucked. The rain sucked. The wind sucked. And the rapids sucked. But in a way I was a bit relieved that the rapids weren’t that intense. This was my first time and I was terrified of falling out, panicking, and possibly drowning. Not exactly my preferred way to bite it.
Anyway another annoyance was the idiot that was rowing in front of me. He was a friend of Burns’s from work named Graham. Graham seemed like a nice enough guy…but he put absolutely nothing into rowing and was constantly out of time. See the idea is that the first two people in the raft watch each other and try to coordinate their rowing. Then the person behind each one of them is supposed to watch the lead person on their side and try to row together with them. And the person behind that second person is supposed to watch and row in time with them and so on all the way to the back. The guide sits in the back and steers. Well, Ben sat in the front on the left side and Burns sat in the front on the right. They were pretty much rowing together. Graham sat behind Ben and I was behind Graham and then Ken was behind me. Well this guy Graham kept getting out of time…Ben later complained that he kept hitting oars with him and fucking him up. I was so frustrated. He made it impossible for me to keep a steady rowing rhythm because whenever I was coordinated with Ben, he would fuck up and get his oar in my way, so I’d have to stop and get in time with him. Fucking loser! I’m a girl and I can do this shit better than that! And the sad thing is that he had been rafting a time or two before! Anyway, Ken thought that I was the one screwing up…he said he kept wondering, “Is Christina really that shitty? That uncoordinated?” Thank God I’m not. I was simply being hindered and frustrated by that fuck nut sitting ahead of me. I swear the next time I go, I’m going to sit just behind the lead. That way, if there are any shitty rowers they’ll all be behind me and won’t fuck with my rowing contribution.
Our 20-mile trip down the river was over by 3PM and I believe we were all thankful to get out of the water. Some people from the company had some hot apple cider waiting on us when we got out of the raft…I’ve never in my life been more thrilled to see a hot beverage. I stood shivering in the rain holding it in my hands. It was still too hot to take a drink.
We all, with our hot apple cider, piled on the bus and the bus windows steamed up. The poor driver had to keep wiping the window down with a cloth so that he could see to drive. I was jolted and my cider spilled onto my hands and lap with every bump and hole the bus wheels found. The bumps and holes were many. By the time the cider was cool enough to drink, I had spilled half of it on myself.
That warmed me a bit, but then we had to get off of the nice cozy bus and go back out into the cold. So we went to Shawn’s car, got our dry clothing, and stripped out of those dripping wet wetsuits. I put on three layers of shirts, but forgot my socks…and I was wearing only sandals.
By 3:30PM we all met in the gathering hall and took advantage of either the free Natural Light or the free hot chocolate. I opted for hot chocolate. We once again jumped in the car and proceeded to drive back to Hinton to drop Burns off and get our stuff. Burns, being the unfortunate bitch of the group, drove. The trip was an extremely sleepy one, each one of us dreading the thought that we might be the one who would have to drive from Hinton back to Charleston. The highlight of this journey was singing along with the songs “Uncle Fucker” and “Bitch” from the South Park the Movie Soundtrack, and “Under the Sea” from the Little Mermaid Soundtrack.
We got to Burns’s house at about 4:30PM and he found that he didn’t have his keys on him. He checked the car and his bag to no avail and eventually learned that he had somehow left them in Graham’s truck. So his friend Greg drives him back to Shady Spring to pick up the keys, while Ken, Shawn, Ben, Crystal (Burns’s woman), and I sit on the tiny covered porch cold and miserable. We tried opening both the front and back doors by the old credit card method, but that didn’t work. Finally Ken suggests that I try to reach through the doggy door and see if I can reach the lock since I have monkey arms.
The ground was wet so I just crouch down and I can’t do it. We go back around to the front porch and wait. Then Crystal goes to the back door to try something…Ken follows…and I decide to go check out what they’re doing. Activity was attractive…I was hoping it would keep me warm. Crystal lays down one of the towels she has and suggests that I lay on my back and try to reach the lock through the doggy door that way. And it worked.
We got in the house and flopped down on the couches and buried ourselves in warm blankets, waiting for Burnsy to arrive. He gets there before we’ve barely had a chance to warm up and we say goodbye, gather our things and leave. Shawn, God bless his black heart, decided to drive. We all wanted dinner and I voted for Pizzeria Uno. No one else having any strong opinions at this point, agreed. We got there and had to wait 30 minutes to get a table. We were waiting near the door and the slightest hint of the cold air would set us to shivering. Mentally everyone was drained…physically everyone was drained. My muscles hurt from intense usage and my bones seemed to ache from the cold. Also I had those nasty achy pains that one experiences from lack of sleep. It was lovely.
One good thing I can say about that day ending was that the food was good. So after we ate we dropped Ken off at his parent’s house, and headed back to our apartment. Shawn crashed on the couch and Ben hopped in bed. I called my folks to let them know that I had survived the New River and then took a nice, long, hot shower. I turned the water on and sat down in the tub and just let it work it’s healing magic.
I got out of the shower and decided that I must record the events and sensations while they were still fresh in my mind. But as you can tell, I didn’t make it very far before my exhaustion took over. I slept like a baby, and I still needed more sleep when I woke this morning. And every muscle in my body is sore from the exertion…It feels good.
I have been white water rafting. I have survived a very cold, but mild New River. I can’t wait to go again in August. WHEN IT’S FUCKING WARM!!!!!!!!!
Anyway, I’ve missed this exercise soreness…I used to have it all of the time when I was in high school…before the time consuming things called college and love relationship entered my life. Honestly, I should’ve could’ve worked out in the last five years…I did for a period of 2 months (pathetic)…but I felt too emotionally exhausted. (If that makes any sense.) Depression makes you tired…makes you want to sleep. And when you give all the energy you’ve got to keeping your job and keeping your GPA at an acceptable level…well…let’s just say I didn’t have anything else to give. But I’ve decided that I’m going to join a local gym now. I need to shed 30lbs to get back my high school figure…20 to get back my figure from freshman year of college. It should only take me, what, 3 or 4 months? Maybe 5? I’m starting on that as soon as I kick ass on my finals this coming week. Wish me luck!
Friday, May 03, 2002
Tonight has been a night for 80’s music and memories of my childhood.
In particular I’ve been thinking of (and eventually downloading and listening to) those 80’s love songs that I used to hear on the radio as I was falling asleep every night during my childhood. Starting at about 8 years old, I’d turn the radio on very softly…so that I could just barely hear it…and crawl into bed. I’d lay there thinking about the day that had been and the day that was coming. Thinking about the future and wondering what it would all be like. What would my best friend Michelle be like by the time we were in high school? Graduating? What would I be like? And what about when we were all grown up? The thought never crossed my mind that we wouldn’t be friends in about 7 years time due to her jealousy over me spending time with other friends while she was off fucking her boyfriend of the moment. The thought never crossed my mind that we would no longer be valid parts of each other’s lives in 15 years.
What I did think about was how we’d both find our “true” loves, get married, have kids, and live near one another so that our children could be friends too. Seems silly? No. It simply seems innocent and hopeful to me. But even at that young age…as I listened to those songs…I would feel an ache deep in my chest. A longing for love, if you will. And perhaps a faint knowledge of all of the hurting that goes along with loving. How we hurt from want of it and when we find it, how so much can go wrong with it to rip us to shreds inside.
But when I hear a few certain songs, I’m taken back to this time in my childhood. I can envision my darkened bedroom, moonlight spilling in through the window illuminating my stuffed animals lined neatly in a row at the bottom of my bed, the white closet doors that were always slightly ajar because they we’re always coming off track, and the little black Sony radio that sat on the floor to the right of my bed. When I hear them, I can feel that longing…and that hopefulness.
I wanted someone someday to tell me, like Chris Deburgh in Lady in Red that “I have never had such a feeling…Such a feeling of complete and utter love as I do tonight”.
I wanted to be with a lover…to live the words of Hands to Heaven.
“Tonight, I need your sweet caress
Hold me in the darkness
Tonight, you calm my restlessness
You relieve my sadness”
And finally have someone say to me, like Bryan Adams in Heaven, “Baby you're all that I want…When you're lyin' here in my arms…I'm findin' it hard to believe…We're in heaven…And love is all that I need…And I found in there in your heart…It isn’t too hard to see…We’re in Heaven”.
I have been a lover and had romantic moments. I have been told that I’m all that he wants and needs. I have been told that he loves me completely and utterly.
And it’s not over.
Tonight, I go to my bed in the afterglow of those emotionally charged 80’s love songs, thinking of the future. What will I be like in 5 years? In 10? 20? What will I become in my career? As a person? What will he become? And what will become of us?
I feel a longing and a hopefulness tonight.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll look back in 20 years after hearing Heaven and smile.
Sleep tight.
In particular I’ve been thinking of (and eventually downloading and listening to) those 80’s love songs that I used to hear on the radio as I was falling asleep every night during my childhood. Starting at about 8 years old, I’d turn the radio on very softly…so that I could just barely hear it…and crawl into bed. I’d lay there thinking about the day that had been and the day that was coming. Thinking about the future and wondering what it would all be like. What would my best friend Michelle be like by the time we were in high school? Graduating? What would I be like? And what about when we were all grown up? The thought never crossed my mind that we wouldn’t be friends in about 7 years time due to her jealousy over me spending time with other friends while she was off fucking her boyfriend of the moment. The thought never crossed my mind that we would no longer be valid parts of each other’s lives in 15 years.
What I did think about was how we’d both find our “true” loves, get married, have kids, and live near one another so that our children could be friends too. Seems silly? No. It simply seems innocent and hopeful to me. But even at that young age…as I listened to those songs…I would feel an ache deep in my chest. A longing for love, if you will. And perhaps a faint knowledge of all of the hurting that goes along with loving. How we hurt from want of it and when we find it, how so much can go wrong with it to rip us to shreds inside.
But when I hear a few certain songs, I’m taken back to this time in my childhood. I can envision my darkened bedroom, moonlight spilling in through the window illuminating my stuffed animals lined neatly in a row at the bottom of my bed, the white closet doors that were always slightly ajar because they we’re always coming off track, and the little black Sony radio that sat on the floor to the right of my bed. When I hear them, I can feel that longing…and that hopefulness.
I wanted someone someday to tell me, like Chris Deburgh in Lady in Red that “I have never had such a feeling…Such a feeling of complete and utter love as I do tonight”.
I wanted to be with a lover…to live the words of Hands to Heaven.
“Tonight, I need your sweet caress
Hold me in the darkness
Tonight, you calm my restlessness
You relieve my sadness”
And finally have someone say to me, like Bryan Adams in Heaven, “Baby you're all that I want…When you're lyin' here in my arms…I'm findin' it hard to believe…We're in heaven…And love is all that I need…And I found in there in your heart…It isn’t too hard to see…We’re in Heaven”.
I have been a lover and had romantic moments. I have been told that I’m all that he wants and needs. I have been told that he loves me completely and utterly.
And it’s not over.
Tonight, I go to my bed in the afterglow of those emotionally charged 80’s love songs, thinking of the future. What will I be like in 5 years? In 10? 20? What will I become in my career? As a person? What will he become? And what will become of us?
I feel a longing and a hopefulness tonight.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll look back in 20 years after hearing Heaven and smile.
Sleep tight.
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