"Anxiety is the hand maiden of creativity”

-T.S. Eliot

I set off today with the intention of going to the park. I was going to the park. Done. Well, none my friends were available. Hmm...next move. What should be my next move? Aha! I'll go alone. I did it a couple weeks ago and it was such a pure and relaxing trip I was excited to do it again. I didn't bring a picnic because I wasn't hungry and I didn't bring my book because I wanted to hike/walk a bit so my load was considerably smaller than last time. Also unlike last time the car ride over, while still lovely, filled me with a feeling of not-belonging. The whole way there anxiety started to creep up on me.

What was I going to do there? I don't even know where the trails are. Should I bring my towel and sunbathe a little? No...no one else will be and I'll look weird. Is it going to be weird that I'm alone? Most people will be with friends, boyfriends/girlfriends, family. I'm going to look like a loner on top of the fact that I don't know where I'm going.

Needless to say I contemplated turning around about a dozen times. Nevertheless, I got there. I couldn't park though.

Where should I park? Should I park here even though I want to walk somewhere else?

So I didn't park at all. I drove through the park once and left. It felt almost worse than turning around. I was such a coward I couldn't even admit my own defeat-I had to drive through just so I could tell myself I had gone. Pathetic.

I don't really know where the anxiety came from. It could easily have spread like a disease while I was getting dressed to go outside. I want to wear shorts. I do. It's more comfortable and they're easier to move around in. But...I simply don't feel comfortable wearing shorts right now. None of mine fit right and last time I went shopping for shorts I couldn't find any that were long enough or flattering. So then my insides beat themselves up. Should I say, "Screw it! I'm wearing shorts!"? Of course. But hello! That doesn't happen. So then I changed about four times. I'm thinking that might be where all this started.

Like I said, anxiety is like a disease. A disgusting black plague that attacks your insides in one place and as soon as it has won it races off to beat something else up.

Right now, I'm lying outside under a big oak tree listening to birdsongs. I'm better now, but I'm also wearing jeans.

Hey! Everybody! Newsflash! Life sucks. And life's great. Sometimes at the same time. Try not to over-analyze it, but you probably will. That's what makes us human.

What am I going to miss? Ha. That's a funny question.

I'm going to miss the rolling hills, the abundant forests, the flowers. I'm going to miss the seasons in all their magical glory. I'm going to miss the old farm houses and looking out of Grandma Brenner's windows at Sunday dinner to watch the horses jump and play in the field. I'm going to miss the simplicity of beauty. I'm going to miss the soft grass (it's not the same in Florida, trust me on this). I'm going to miss all the friends I've made, my school friends and my Eden friends. I'm going to miss the family that has come to mean so much to me. I'm going to miss my little apartment that I have all to myself (which will probably never happen again). I'm going to miss the bakery that I'm interning at (that I could totally work at if I wasn't leaving). I'm going to miss Eat'sa Pizza (To all the people that think Domino's is as good as any other pizza place: you are wrong). I'm going to miss Canada being only a hop, skip, and a jump away. I'm going to miss looking out my windows and seeing nothing but crystal blue and vibrant greens. The sky's so BIG here! I'm going to miss Shadagee Rd. I'm going to miss driving through three towns in ten minutes. I'm going to miss finding people that know you and your whole family at the store, bank, etc. I'm going to miss little shops.

What I'm trying to say is that I'm sad I'm leaving (if you hadn't got that already). But what am I looking forward to?

I'm excited to drive to Florida with Chrissy. I'm excited to see the friends I've had since childhood. I'm excited to see Anna Maria Island. I'm excited to pack my beach bag (I've gotten pretty good at that throughout the years) and driving in my bikini with the windows down. I'm excited to hang out with my sister and brother. I'm excited to eat Atlanta Bread (sigh...and I guess I'm kind of excited to work there again, too). I'm excited to go to UCF. I'm excited to move into my new apartment with my best friend. I'm excited to start a new job. I'm excited to prove to myself that I can do it again-I can relocate and survive. I'm excited to add another city to the "places I've lived" list. I'm excited to explore Orlando. I'm excited to learn about myself what you can only learn by moving somewhere new.

Hey, life is short so I have to live it up! To my NY friends-I will be back. I promise. And we shall have a gay old time. To my FL friends-I'm coming back! So let's have some fun.

I'm only 19 and let me just let everyone know-I have what's known as "wanderlust". That means you shouldn't expect me to stay anywhere for too long, at least not until I'm older and have more grounding responsibilities.

It's silly for me to be sad. What do I have to be sad about? I spent an amazing year learning so much. I met people that have helped shape and guide me. There's not one thing I regret in coming here. And now this chapter of my life is, not over, just on hold. That's life, baby.

Picture Stories #3

His senses were acute. He was the predator. He could feel the sinewy muscle throughout his wings. They bunched, in preparation for flight. He could see his next victim. He felt no animosity towards the thing. It looked small and a little sad. But he was a predator. This is who he was born to be. The focus in his wings was acute to the point of pain. He swooped, releasing the tension and going for the kill. He never missed a target.

He and his kind had been working for centuries to get the world just right. He was excited in a way. He had been working hard to make the world for them. He made mysteries, natural wonders, abundant resources. They asked nothing in return; it was their responsibility. They had lived on Earth for eons. It was simply their time to pass it on. It was selfish to hog one planet for too long. He felt the anticipation one might feel as they prepared a wonderful gift for a good friend.

Later, as he looked back, he wept. His friends had spent so much time on the beautiful planet. The humans had not appreciated it as he thought they would have. The forests they planted were gone. The protective shield around the sky was broken and porous. Surely, they don't realize. Surely they will figure out the wrongness of their ways soon and fix the Earth for the next generation. One hopes...

I am the Earth that created me. I am the sun that warms my face. I am the wind that tickles my skin. I am the grass that caresses my toes. I am the bear in the woods and the deer on the lawn.  I swim in the forest and I hike in the sea. I am everywhere and I am nowhere. I am me. I am the Earth.

That last one is little old me. As I looked over it, words started to flow through my mind. I needed a third picture for picture stories and there you have it! I'll just show off my deliriously good looks.

Links:

Angry Bird (get it...as in the game tehe)

Giant

Mark Twain Is Alive!

As you know, I had plenty of winter adventures the last several months. I learned what a toboggan was and that it's way cooler to call it a T-Bog. I went sledding, tubing, you name it-I did it.

Well, it's Spring now and I didn't want the adventures to end. Thankfully, they haven't. So far this season I've gotten to do two really cool things.

First was a Maple Festival. Now, when I eat pancakes they usually don't have syrup on them. Ehhh syrup is good I guess but it's just whatever to me. I'm here to tell you, ladies and gentlemen that I only felt this way because I had never had real maple syrup. Where the heck have I been all my life? Oh yeah, NOT where they make maple syrup. It's got this amazing, intense sweet flavor that is strangely unique. If you've had the imitation stuff just know that it's not the same...at all.

So at this festival I learned how maple syrup has been made for hundreds of years. Really, the process hasn't changed much. The containers are different...that's about it. Which really, if you think about it, is pretty amazing. Similar processes and products have so vastly changed throughout the years that you can't really see the resemblance from then and now. The Native Americans pretty much had it spot on.

After we learned about how it was made, we got to stroll through the historical village. I saw a woman making bread with the natural yeast coming from the brewery. I learned a lot from the tinsmith. I even learned how beer was made in the olden days.

All in all it was a fantastic start to the Spring adventures I hope will be plentiful. (I must mention, this was on a freezing cold day with spits of rain and snow...but it was Spring so it still counts.)

Last night was the exciting second installment of the Spring Adventure series. I got to see Mark Twain Live. Apparently there's a local chief meteorologist that has been involved in theatre since he was a little younger than I am now. He dresses like Mr. Twain and acts him to a tee. I'm ashamed to say that I have never really taken an interest in Mark Twain's writing because I just assumed (Yeah, I know what happens when I assume. I feel like such an ass.) it would be boring and stuffy. That's not the case at all. Mike Randall (playing Twain) brought a vitality to him that I hadn't known existed. I wasn't aware, but in his time he was just as famous for his stage work as he was for his books. He paved the way for modern stand-up comedians. And let me tell you, he was funny. For something written in the 1800's to be funny to a 19 year old of 2011 is a pretty awesome thing.

Groundhogs Are Cute-End Of Story

As I looked out the window in my door this morning I saw something. I couldn't quite figure out what it was without my glasses. I squinted to no avail. My glasses, though, were all the way across the apartment and I didn't want to lose sight of this mysterious little creature. Well, I figured, I had to try. I did one of those runs to get my glasses that if anyone ever saw I'd be terribly embarrassed. That loping, use-your-long-legs-for-something-useful type of run.

I rushed back with all four eyes and looked out to survey the land. To my delight, the creature was still there. It's not something I had ever seen in person; I was instantly sure of that. But he did seem familiar. Groundhog. That's the word that popped into my mind. Yes, after a quick search on Google (thank you, modern technology) I learned that it was, indeed, a groundhog in the garden. I watched him nibble (probably to my aunt and uncle's dismay, but that's not my battle). He scurried and quickly stole my heart. I want one (just kidding...but really only half kidding).

I widened my gaze to survey the whole garden. There was not only a groundhog but four pretty birds swooping and landing, swooping and landing. They were a soft, medium shade of blue and at least one of them (the one closest to me) had a red-ish belly.

From there I noticed the yellow buds starting to form on a few of the plants that are growing strong. I even noticed a fly or two. I have an extreme dislike of flies but something about them reminded me of that feeling. (Quick, just have to add  this-the groundhog just ran up the steps like there was no tomorrow. Too freaking cute.) That feeling that you get on a warm summer afternoon. Especially here. You're on the verge of being too hot, but you're not quite there yet. A warm breeze floats across your body.

The wind is electric. The clouds are varying shades of grey. I feel strange saying this, but I would love a good, summer thunderstorm. One where even the rain is hot. And the pulse coming through the air is almost tangible. I'm pretending now that what I'm seeing is the beginning of a wonderful, terrible, beautiful thunderstorm.

Happy Spring to you.

So all throughout this school year I've dealt with my teachers not liking me. I've never been one that couldn't stand to not be the teacher's favorite. That's not my style. If the teacher favors me that's awesome. If not, that's fine too. But when they don't like me flat out it rubs me the wrong way. Chalk it up to being the daughter of a teacher, I've always needed my teachers to at least like me. That's it. I just want them to think of me in a positive light.

I'm always the student that sees a teacher in the hallway and says, "Hi! How was your weekend?" or "Have a good night! See you tomorrow". I always try to be polite and do what they ask without to much huffing and puffing. Now, I think that would be the makings of someone a teacher would like. But through almost every class I have known for a fact they didn't like me.

Chef D: I don't think she really didn't like me. But she seemed fairly indifferent (which is okay).
Chef A: Hated my guts. It was blatantly obvious.
Chef J: Seemed fine until we got the practical and things went downhill fast.
Chef Do: Can't stand me. Meg and I were gone (together) for the same amount of time today. She said not a thing to Meg (who was right in front of her) but came over to me and started getting hissy at me for not being in the kitchen. I could actually go on and on about the reasons I know she doesn't like me, but I'll have you take my word for it.
Chef K: I don't think he hates me, but I also don't think he likes me very much.

I just don't understand. What can I do? What am I doing now that is giving me such negative results? I had no problem making friends so it doesn't really make sense to me...

Sigh...maybe it's just because it was a long day but I'm not happy.

Winter

So I've assessed the situation and I've come to the conclusion I know exactly what winter is:

Winter is that friend. You know the one. You like her. She's nice. She sometimes has interesting things to say and she's great to go hangout with. But every single time you two do something (hangout, have a party, etc.) she shows up early and never leaves on time. If you say you're having a party from noon to four she's there at 11:20 and stays until 5:30.

You like her but at some point you just have to draw the line.

Just thought I'd share my findings.

P.S. Have you thanked Mother Earth lately? I've been thinking about starting a morning meditation ritual as it helps keeping one centered and relaxed. One of the suggestions I saw was to thank Mother Earth every morning for everything she gives. I thought it was a neat way of remembering all the ways your life is being blessed on a daily basis.