Sunday, June 28, 2009

Here's My Story

Sometimes I wish that I could voice-record these entries so that you can feel the passion and the inflections in my voice; so that you can understand and interpret what my tone is suggesting. Ah, well. I suppose that the point of reading is to imagine and create, and my voice is trivial. However...

For the first time, I had a split second in which I enjoyed the company of a cat more than that of a dog. See, yesterday, I went to look after two dogs and a cat and sometime in the middle of all of the structured tranquility that accompanies a home so deeply settled into the forest and so far from the road, I had some sort of falling-out with myself. You see, I had already had a stressful day, beginning with my bake sale that was profitable, however hectic. I broke out in poison ivy, or something like it, for the first time in my life, (plenty of firsts, here...) and I was tired and uncomfortable. But the breaking point occurred when I realized that I had accidentally backed the van too far off the driveway down a steep bank so it was resting on its middle and none of the four tires could grasp the ground enough to turn properly.

Usually, I would be ashamed to tell you this; I am not the type of girl who usually lets tears flow freely in front of judgmental faces. Perhaps, though, this will allow you to know me a little better, if you dare. In my own defense, I was exhausted and hungry and just wished to be home in my room without this hair-tangle of a situation, so I cried a bit. I wandered over to the two wooden chairs (probably meant for two lovers and not a single crier) and plopped down and brought my knees up to myself and...I wasn't even embarrassed because there was nobody around to hear me. Nothing but the ducks on the pond and the clouds in the sky. And a cat.

I am a dog person. I think cats are devious little creatures. But this cat...this cat thinks he's a dog, in my opinion, and he was different. He came up, meowing and purring, and climbed on my lap. I didn't mind that he was shedding globs of white hair on my black shirt. He let me hold on to him until my angry father arrived, until I didn't need his softness anymore, until I wasn't alone.

So driving back today, I thought that I should perhaps make sure I gave the cat a little extra care, because he deserves to live.

And driving back today also, while listening to Lake Michigan by Rogue Wave on repeat, I noticed how beautiful Williamston is in the summer. While sticking my arm out the car window and caressing the speed-induced wind with my fingers, I noticed the trees. Summer trees have so much life about them; there is something that makes them so much less inanimate than other Earthly things around them. The six-eight ballad lilted out of my car's stereo and I swear that the Evergreens swayed to the beat. The Crab-Apples shook like uproarious laughter or thunderous applause. The Maples and Oaks and Birches softly whirred amongst themselves, waving at me like graceful pixies.

So the artistic half in my soul took over, for a moment. I didn't have to be a scientist, for once. I wasn't just a day-laborer. I wasn't a broke college student. I breathed in some fresh Michigan summer air, and realized that I am never in love with my own land so much as during summer, autum, or sunset. No matter how much the snow sparkles in winter, if you ask me, a landscape needs a bit of color. I will never be okay with the color white everywhere. In summer, in autumn, at sunset, there is so much diversity. There exists an entire pallette of hues: dominant pinks, royal blues and purples, joyful oranges and luminous yellows.

It sounds crazy, but just look at it.

Maybe this is my mind reacting with the new concept of "allergy medication" or my most recent bout of dizzy spells, but just look at it. It won't last long. Drink it in. Summer is over soon, and personally, I won't have time to enjoy it half as much as I wish to during school.

So maybe we can enjoy our own town for a moment. Instead of constantly looking for somewhere else to go, maybe we can just drive around Michigan because the sun shines golden on the corn fields and glitters in the lakes and rivers.

Summer is here now. Don't miss it.

Delicious.

Friday, June 26, 2009

Th.Dr.Si.Fe.

I've been thinking, for the past couple of days, about how my body looks like a disease. A sun-poisoned, sweat-poisoned, plant-poisoned, bug-poisoned disease. An itchy, crampy, sleepy, liquid disease. Boo.

But all is well.

Today I made a bazillion cookies to sell tomorrow. Regardless of how this works out, I think it will be fun. There's an awful lot of support on my side, though, and I think we'll be fine. Casey and I are singing, anyway, so that will be nice in and of itself.

Moving on.

Let's see. Alienation has made a grand entrance again. It's either my fault or not at all. Who gives a toss? Nobody, and I shouldn't either. People love anyway. People will understand. Will they? Your mother will be coming downstairs to make breakfast. Will she?

I am so exhausted.

Delicious.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Mix Tape Madness

Rewind.
Pause.
Play.
Chords on fire. Stinging prints with tiny callouses. Something red and something sweet. Voices behind pearly whites.
Skip.
Silver trucks in front of me. Black holes behind me. Left turn and race home. Fidgety fingers and short little breaths. Dots all over. Dots all over. Dots all over. A late night phone call.
Next.
Roads stretched out and going forever. Music tickles my ears. Dancing sprites and smiling tots and proud, proud mums and dads. Stage fright conquered. A ham with a kiss. An ice cream shop. A chance to see, to smile.
Before.
A long-overdue conversation. Walking back in time and smelling the potent past. A rickety box to take and make loud. Prospects of more road, more time--something so fragile and precious.
Then.
Roots and leaves tugging at me, I tugging at them. Sun likes to caress me. Likes to brown me. Likes to burn me. I let it.
Now.
People I admire. People I judge. People I hug. People I watch. People I love. People everywhere.
Stop.
Delicious.