When Yer Twenty...Six

I tend to forget about this blog when I'm happy. That's not to say that I'm not happy right now. On the contrary, I am really stinking happy. I wish I were more inclined to write regardless of my circumstances. I suppose that if feels like I'm bragging, in a way, when I celebrate my life in this context. Why does it feel more acceptable or less obnoxious to write something moody and depressed? (More acceptable to whom?) Why does happiness so often come across as less genuine, less interesting than despondency? Is this musing a symptom of being an English major?

I'm really happy right now and I choose to admit my contentedness (mixed with a healthy dose of anxiety and excitement). I am going to be a student again. I will have a pile of demanding books (I'm salivating at the thought- seriously). The keyboard will be the crack to my fingertips, and my dark circles will claim more territory. I need this. I was more uncertain that I'd be accepted into this program than I was when I applied to my undergraduate institution. The fact that I'm changing the trajectory of my life is difficult to grasp, but then again, what of the future isn't?

To Be Alone With...Me

1. Wake up. The banality of such an effort affords it no mention in this blog. Erase it from your memory.

2. Cuddle with my love. "Hello, hello," I whisper. "Qu'est-ce que c'est? Quieres comida?" We're a bilingual household.

3. Read for longer than I anticipate. Pull/peel myself away.

4. "The Beatles Yesterday and Today" on vinyl while scrubbing dishes. (I find this oddly fulfilling and fun).

5. Return to book.

6. Skype with the love of my life. How refreshing it was to be in the presence of one who fully knows and understands me, even if it relied upon signals, satellites and wires. Lately, I have been bumping up against the fact that I am difficult to read. It was nice to not have to worry about that today. Effortless. Home.

7. Go for my longest run thus far atop layers of crisp autumn leaves and under a lovely grey sky.

8. High from a run, I produce my best "entrance letter" yet. It should be complete by tomorrow.

9. Read, again. It's soooo good! Thanks for lending it to me, I-!

10. Work on Halloween crafts. Paint, glitter, glue, what fun!!!

11. Home-made onion rings. What? I ran today and my pants are falling off of me, anyway. Don't judge.

12. Watch documentary about crows. Do it.

13. You guessed it. Read.

Living alone, if one knows how to do it properly, is not a bad thing. I happen to love it.

No More Ms. Nice Gal

I've have found myself in a place, again, where I'm thinking I'm far too passive to be "successful." About a year ago, I was at a barbecue which was actually a reunion for men and women who had attended Evergreen twenty years ago. I was a crasher. I was talking to a drunk and possibly stoned attorney and when I mentioned that I was thinking of going to law school, he said, "You're not enough of a bitch to be a lawyer. You're way too nice." At the time, I was disappointed and slightly annoyed, but I decided that he was right. I like to argue, but only under a very secure safety canopy with intimate company (or perhaps with fellow drunkards, but who wants to admit that...?). Conditions must be perfect. Further, I hate being the center of attention. Being an attorney isn't the proper platform for me. Then, someone suggested that I look into becoming a paralegal.

For the past year, I've been saying that "I'm thinking of going to school to earn a paralegal certificate." It's been churning for far too long and I'm tired of lazily entertaining the idea. I'm ready to actually do it. I am trying to dismiss my deep-rotted tendencies to doubt and discourage myself. Part of me thinks this flaw of mine is genetic and if I were to take on the right attitude that I could trump it. Consciousness/will versus DNA. Another part of me thinks that I, as a mostly passive and empathetic person, don't really fit into a work world where power and aplomb are essentially required. Passivity is not an attribute that I value, but empathy is. I hope that there is a way I can reconcile my empathetic nature with a career that demands I have tough skin.

While at dinner last night, I- and I were talking about this and he was telling me that he recently heard a piece about the idea of "stepping over/on people to get ahead." He said something along the lines of, you're always going to have to take from someone else or step over someone to get what you want and be successful. "But why? That's depressing," I responded. "What do you mean 'Why?' That's just how it has to work. Here's twenty dollars. Either you get it or someone else does." "Why can't I split it?" "Because you can't. That's not an option. It's either you or someone else walks away with the twenty bucks." So now I'm left to wonder, which person am I/do I want to be and is there a respectful and kind way to be the one to walk away with the twenty dollars?

Despite my ethical ruminations, I called UW today and am on the road to a new career. I am hoping that I'll find answers along the way. That's usually how it works.

Aye me!

Goodness me! Where did this come from? I didn't want this, but now I'm in. Way in. My head and heart are driving me nuts. There she goes again, diving in head first. Deep, deep, deep. I'm pretty sure I know how this ends. Fatalistic much? Stop thinking, stop thinking! How? Whiskey? Gym? Other men? French films? None of it works.

You and your Seinfeld impressions, poetry, and stupid wonderful brilliant brain are more than I can take. It's making a mess of me.

So much sighing...

Temper that Temper!

Yesterday, I woke up early as I usually do these days. I was feeling accomplished and relieved that all of my duties as an event organizer were complete. Sure, things could have been done different, better, but I knew that I had worked really hard on a project that meant a lot to me and I had done the best job I could with the tools and time I had been given. My day was structured around pulling the final strings together: go into the office for data entry training and to organize all materials; pick up the P.A. system; set up at the venue; hold the event. At 8:00 A.M., K- (who has been pretty much hands off of this project) texted me that he thought we should call the whole thing off. Poof! Say good-bye to everything you poured yourself into for the past month. I was furious, boiling. Muscles, blood, skin, mind- all of it became tense, angry, PISSED. Fortunately, S- stayed the night and I was able to vent for a while, but it wasn't enough to extinguish the anger I was feeling.

For the first time in a while, I needed to go to the gym. I needed to punch something, throw something other than my phone which didn't do anything wrong, poor thing. After S- left, I received a call from a friend who invited me over to walk the lake. We walked, I fumed and complained and as the morning gloom burned off, so did a bit of my steam. Afterward, I felt better and we sat on the porch, drank coffee, snacked and enjoyed the summer breeze and the comfort of safe company. As our time together was winding down, E- called and asked if I wanted to play tennis.

Universe? You must be listening.

We played for a couple of hours and my remaining frustrations dissipated. Not to brag...okay, I'm going to brag... We played thirteen games and I won ten. E- wouldn't admit that I'm better than him. He's an ass, really, but I am pretty proud that I kicked his. Winning is something I am a pretty big fan of, but more than that, playing tennis- hitting the shit out of those balls- was quality therapy. I took a few overzealous plows at the ball, losing one to Cherry, but my word did it feel good!

The connection between my mind and body was extreme and indisputable yesterday. The anger was both mental and physical. Of course it was, but when it's as apparent as it was yesterday, I find the connection so interesting. Part of me wanted to stay home, feel sorry for myself and complain to the empty spaces. But no, four miles and an hour and a half of tennis later, my body and mind were able to let go. I'm still angry, but I was able to take control of my emotions, or rather the way in which I was internalizing them. I was able to channel my negative energy and grievances into healthy activities that remedied the situation far better than any amount of wallowing would have.

I was at a bookstore several years ago and happened upon one of the most dismal children's books in existence. The final page said something along the lines of "...and some days end the same way they started." The illustration showed a slight, emo-looking child, shoulders slumped, forehead parallel to the moldy, dusty floorboards, looking empty and depressed to the 100th degree. I could have stayed home yesterday and festered in my fury. If I had, I would have ended the day just as I had started it. I'm lucky to have people in my life who don't allow me to do that.

The Best of Times: Lots of Wine and Wonderful Friends

Where do I begin? The past month has been incredibly busy and full of new people, old loves and everything in between. I've realized (again) how fantastic my friends are. Truly. They are the best of the best.

Several weeks ago, I was able to travel to Washington D.C. to visit J- and K-. I went, primarily, to help K- out. She was having a rough time and needed a friend to break up the monotony of her life and someone to help her pack. However, I'm not going to hide the fact that seeing the Harry Potter premiere with her was a major factor when deciding whether or not I was going to go. She had planned on convincing me to come for a while and informed me after I bought my plane ticket that she knew all along that I'd do it. Apparently I'm easy. We went to a few wineries, J- shared his fancy whiskey with me on the deck as the sun set (I saw fireflies for the first time!), K- and I spent time in the pool catching up and relaxing. I feel so comfortable around them and they make me laugh a ton. I love them as a couple and hope that one day I meet someone with whom I have such a connection. They have had their troubles, but always find a way to come back together. I love my friends.

I also went to a wedding a couple of weeks ago. I have decided that all of my friends must get married now so I can go to even more weddings. Dancing and being silly and sharing in the couple's joy was so much fun. I haven't danced in a while and forgot how much I enjoy it. After the wedding, J-, B-, D- and I went back to our room and had a robe party. We ordered a bottle of wine and sat around talking and laughing into the wee hours of the morning. I love my friends.

This past weekend, A- took me to a cabin for my birthday. There were four of us and it was relaxing and lovely to be in the woods. I think I could live in the woods and be truly happy...with the right person. We hiked to some natural hot springs on Monday and since I forgot socks, I had to hike in my sandals. Last week, A- asked me why I am vegan and when I told him my stock answer (Because I want to cause the least amount of suffering possible, and it makes sense for me), he teased me by saying, "Okay, Jesus!" Hiking in my sandals only proves it. Obviously. Anyway, we also spent time around a fire, in the hot tub, and playing games and drinking wine (naturally). I love my friends.

This upcoming weekend marks the final weekend of travel for me. I'm going to the coast with E-, and I'm slightly anxious about it. I've already made it very clear to him that I don't want to be anything more than platonic friends, and I'm pretty certain that he understands and will respect my boundaries, but he has sent me a few flirty text messages since our conversation. Maybe he's just joking around, but it makes me wonder if he's holding out hope. I really wish I didn't have this anxiety hanging over my head because the trip could be a lot of fun. He's bringing his surfboard and I can't wait to walk in the sand and read in the sun. Ugh. Male-female friendships are tricky, I'm coming to find. I kind of wish one of my girlfriends could come along.

Sorry this entry has been so bland and "Dear Diary." You didn't have to read it, though!

Lately

I said that I wasn't interested in dating. I couldn't imagine ever being excited about someone again. I knew that I would, but I didn't see it happening in the near future.

News is: I am excited.

We're American, I guess.

In an attempt to avoid fireworks (for the sake of pup-face), some friends and I headed to the mountains yesterday. So as not to brag too much, I'll keep this brief. We spent the day baking, drinking, reading an assortment of literature (Mother Jones for me; a spanish newspaper for S-; The Great Gatsby for A-), playing scrabble, drinking some more, floating in my raft, making fun of the crazy dad and grandpa who were planted next to us (the grandpa came over and invited us to his restaurant on the North Shore of Hawaii), listening to the Chili Peppers and Mad Rad, and napping.

I am telling you, this summer is proving to be my kind of summer. The past several had highlights -some truly brilliant and beautiful ones-, but the past couple Fourths were, in retrospect, not what I wanted. Being outside with my dog and friends, sitting on the ground and wearing dirty feet, connecting and having real conversations and feeling completely comfortable is a fantastic way to spend a holiday, or any day at that. I'm looking forward to more moments like this!

She was living alone (and) happily

In the midst of meeting new guys I've discovered that I am much stronger than I originally thought. I went into this phase of my life wanting nothing more than to make friends with whom I could enjoy life, sans any sort of physicality or -shiver- love. I was insistent that this was all I was looking for, but I was fearful that I would be easily swayed and fall for the first person to show interest. I am proud to say that I am sticking to my boundaries and am honoring where I'm at right now. I'm not sure that I've fully done that in the past, or maybe I just didn't know what I wanted. This time around I am being very conscious about my process and what I want for my life. A few guys have attempted to cross the line, but I've stood my ground.

I went out with someone on Saturday and he wanted to hold my hand and brought up marriage. He and I both wear sentimental jewelry, his brother and I share a name and a birthday and he took these facts to be "signs" that we were meant to be together. AHHHH! Maybe some girls go ga-ga over that shit, but holy hell, take a breath. I'm being unfair, though he was kind of a prick. There was a time in my life when this guy and all of his romantic gestures and flirtations would have made me swoon. At this point, those sorts of things are completely wrong for me. I know this. For me to know and trust myself as much as I do is huge. This self-knowing started several months ago when I began to give myself and my emotions validity and has expanded into a time in my life when I have been uncovering amounts of self-awareness and confidence I didn't know existed. I feel more connected with myself than I have in a long time, perhaps ever.

I love the song "Romantic Rights" by Death From Above 1979, but I propose that they change the lyrics from "She was living alone, unhappily," to "She was living alone and happily." It would alter the song's meaning, but only slightly. They could still do it and start a family. In fact, someone who can live alone and happily is the kind of person I would want to start a family with anyway.

I called it...

Tonight, E- suggested that he fly us to Friday Harbor for a day. I asked him if he could procure any hard drugs to subdue me, but it's not looking good. He suggested horse tranquilizers...anybody?

I spent hours in the sun reading "The Spell of the Sensuous," today. My soul is rooting deeper and deeper into the soil of the Pacific Northwest and my summer freckles are blossoming as late tulips. It's been so long since I've seen my skin in such a state! I'm a northwestern girl.

Casie and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dates (and a few good ones)

I'm trying out this dating thing. I think it's going well and I've had plenty of humorous and awkward (some painfully so) moments. This is what it's all about, I'm told.

1. B #1: I went into this hang out with reservations. We had plenty of long and interesting conversations so I thought that I'd give it one more chance, however he was incredibly pushy about romantic involvement (which I am kind of repulsed by at the point) so I was hesitant. It ended up being awful. He preached to me for a solid thirty minutes about Israeli/ Palestinian conflict and Jewish anarchist groups. Talk. Talk. Talk. He talked the entire time and I couldn't wait to leave. I need friends with whom I can have intelligent conversations, but I want to be able to get a word in here and there. I think this guy just needs a mirror and maybe a blow-up doll and he'll be good to go. I've been very upfront with him that I'm not looking to date anybody- I've told him several times- and yet later that day he sent me a text: "I wasn't sure how to read our hangout. Did you just wanna be friends w/ me, & not really go out on a date?" Oy! Too much work. Maya wasn't into him either. Moving on...

2. G-: We met up after my draining hangout with B #1, and had crepes and wine. When my crepe came with sour cream drizzled all over it, he was understanding and sent it back for me since it wasn't vegan. I was worried that he'd think I was being demanding, but he didn't seem concerned at all. Phew! We talked about veganism, societal collapse, the concept of "the other," and he was able to hold a conversation about Harry Potter with me. I was able to geek out about it for a bit. We ended up hanging out all afternoon into the wee hours of the morning playing frisbee; going to his friend's house to play games; and visiting Sun Liquor for a late-night drink. I can see us being buddies. Our sarcasm runs so thick that there were plenty of times when we would have to pause to consider whether the other was being serious or not. He's smart, almost intimidatingly so, but it wasn't the most amazing time I've had. He's borderline pompous. I am still not sure how I feel about getting to know him further, but I guess when you can spend 10 hours with a person and still have things to talk about, it's a good sign. Maya thought he was okay.

3. B #2: One lad came over to play games on Saturday night with my friends. He was something else and was the spitting vocal image of Daniel Plainview (I'm trying to be open to getting to know a variety of people, okay?). While I was making dinner and repressing laughter, A- (who was in the room) sent me a text which said, "I didn't know you invited Daniel Plainview to dinner." I could have died, but luckily I had another text from S-, who informed me that her cat had just fallen into the toilet. I could therefore laugh, mostly at Mr. Plainview, and say it was over S-'s text. He proceeded to guzzle a bottle and half of wine as if it were water (and he took his half empty bottle with him when he left, which I think is hilarious). I thought he was gulping water at one point, but then I realized it was wine. He abandoned his wine glass and switched to a water glass! The game we played was a lot of fun, but there are other people I'd rather play with in the future. I have ignored his texts. I'm thinking that's the best plan at this point. He doesn't know who Steven Colbert is and thinks abortion is morally wrong so I just don't see how we can be friends. Moving on...

4. E-: This date was the one I was looking forward to the most. While we were planning it, it became clear to me that this guy has his shit together. We met at Magnuson Park to go kayaking and he had everything set up and ready to go. When he was fitting me into my life vest, I joked that I wouldn't need it. I went kayaking in South Carolina the weekend before and didn't fall in once. I was feeling confident, but since he brought them I decided to wear it to be nice. Out of all the guys I've been hanging out with he is the easiest to talk to, which after a long weekend of awkward and exhausting moments, was a relief. The weather was gloomy which meant there weren't many people on the water and made for a private and peaceful trip, but the water was choppy- much choppier than it was in South Carolina.

It was interesting to hear all about his life and he asked me a ton of questions about mine. It was a very equal conversation, there wasn't a single lull, and he seemed to get me. I don't know what we were talking about, but we were engaged and looking at each other when our kayaks got a little too close. I tried moving over and dug my paddle in at too much of an angle just as a wake slapped the side of my kayak and flipped me over. The only other time I've been in water that cold was when I skinny dipped with my friends in college, but that's another story. I was so shocked and cold that I couldn't catch my breath. I was sputtering "I...I...I...I'm...I'm so...so...I'm so...em...em...em...barr...barrass...embarr...assed..." It took a while and several deep breaths to compose myself, but E- stayed calm and reassured me that I didn't need to feel embarrassed. He came up with a plan and told me what he was going to do which made me feel much better. He flipped my kayak over and proceeded to pump the water out while I stayed in the lake and began to laugh. Honestly, it was hilarious and he handled it so well that I no longer felt embarrassed. If he hadn't been there, I don't know how I would have gotten back into the boat because he had to pull me up into it. I don't know that I'll ever go alone knowing this.

When we got back to the car it seemed clear that we were both enjoying each other's company and I didn't want the day to be over. I had to run an errand for work at a store near his home and suggested that I go home, change and we could meet up after I ran my errand. He agreed and when I talked to him on the phone a bit later, he mentioned that he had a coupon for this particular store and offered it to me. I know that this sounds like such a trivial thing, but it seemed really thoughtful. Anyway, we ran my errands then had a picnic, which Maya was present at. She took to him right away and let him pet her. She sat on the bench with us and we continued to talk without strain.

I invited him to an event which was happening the next night and I didn't think he'd show up, but he did! I guess so many people say that they'll show up to things and end up flaking out that I've been conditioned to assume they won't show up. Anyway, he wants to plan a mountain biking trip with me for next weekend. I'm beside myself to have a friend who is super easy to be around and wants to play outside as much as I do. The only hang-up is that he's a flight instructor and I fear that one day I'll be suckered into flying in a tiny plane with him. That is something I'm not sure I could handle.

Arithmetic

Standing in hell's heels for five hours + successfully performing tasks that intimidated me = +8

Meeting new people + babysitting/acting as taxi cab for toasted stranger = +2

Fun date + - "-"= -5

Packing + Annie Hall - M= +7

Preparing legs for swimsuit + pushy fella= -10

Today's total is: +2. At least I'm up.

I must be in a good place now.

I spent my weekend outside: blistered; dirty; thirsty; sore; and completely happy. Being removed from sirens, thumping bass, obnoxious neighbors and pigeons, and roaring airplanes created a sense of stillness and calm in me, which I desperately needed. My thoughts weren't as rapid and despondent as they had been at home. It was peace and what my soul had been begging for. It was a weekend of healing and validation. Being out in nature, I like to think, has washed over my sadness. I'm ready to move forward.

K- shared a poem with me a while ago and I take tremendous comfort in it. The parallels to my weekend are almost flawless:

"Wild Geese"

Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting--

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

It was supposed to be a two mile trip to the lake, but since the trails weren't marked (and I forgot to bring a map) it ended up taking us about four hours to arrive at our destination. The upside to this was that we were able to explore parts of a different canyon we would have otherwise avoided. Maya was a trooper and carried her pack most of the way until she finally gave up and refused to move until I took it off. I ended up carrying it the rest of the way.

After setting up camp, we explored the basin and lake a bit, but my ankles and heels were torn up by my new boots and I wasn't able to go very far. We resolved to return to our tent and make dinner. The beauty I was surrounded by was what I have missed and hadn't seen in far too long. Nature. Sitting under the sun, drinking wine, reading and doing crosswords with ideal company was the absolute best way I could have spent my Saturday night. As the sun set, the wind made waves of the wildflowers and gold grass. The noise of crickets filled the air, the scent of dust and sweet desert plants filled my nose, and the joy of being close to raw earth filled my being. I wish I could live in a place like this.

If you look closely, you can see our tent. Over the ledge is a lake and waterfall.

When the air turned cold, we went into our tent and played Pictionary. Doodles included the jackass porcupine and the man with a metal detector, both of which we saw on our trip. We went to bed early, cozy on the hard, rocky ground and we drifted off to sleep to a lullaby of wind and chirping, buzzing insects. Maya's limbs were limp and she didn't give a hoot what I did to her. Exhaustion: that is the way to end a day.

Gratitude and peace now fill me. Mother Nature, you know what you're doing.

The Dumps Are So Hot Right Now

It's too bad that my employer knows me as well as she does. I thought I cleaned up my face enough to get away with looking a tad bit tired, but she knew.

"Do you have a cold?"

"...Uh, no. I'm not sick. No cold..."

She paused and tilted her head down for a better, more serious peer. "Are you okay?"

Caught. I shrugged and shook my head, "Um, yes. I'm...okay."

"Oh, okay. Sorry."

"You do it to yourself, you do

And that's what really hurts

Is that you do it to yourself

Just you, you and no one else."

It's funny how one's brain and emotions can fuck up a body. Power of the mind?

I've been here before.

Love. The Everly Brothers had it right:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFE2SnliiV0

I'm Still Growing into my Geological Skin

Last summer I was only able to hike once and the fault was my own. This year things are going to change because I ache, in fact I've been aching since last summer, to spend days in the woods. There is nothing holding me back this year. I have a handful of backpacking companions and a will to go.

I went on my first conditioning hike to Wallace Falls on Sunday which for the most part was a success. I made it to the top and woke up the next day perfectly sore. The only stitch in my day was the fact that when I was just about to the top it started to pour. For the average Washingtonian hiker a little rain is no big deal. I realized on Sunday that I'm not the average Wasingtonian hiker.

Hiking in my runners was not a problem in California. When I went on a four day backpacking trip in Mammoth I didn't get too many blisters and never rolled my ankle. I conquered Half Dome and Cloud's Rest in runners. I've also hiked in the Pacific Northwest -in the summer- in them and they served me well. So you see, I was a bit cocky. "Who needs to spend money on hiking boots? I've only hiked in my running shoes and it's always been fine," I would insist whenever the ghost of hiking boot future would haunt me. Up until Sunday morning I had never hiked in Washington in the Spring. I've learned it's a different game.

The already damp trail turned into an endless, slushy mud-pit. I tried to walk on the outside of the trail when possible, but even that didn't keep my cute little runners from sinking deeper and deeper until shoe, then sock and eventually panicked foot were wet. This happened at the top and I knew that ahead of me was a 3-mile descent through even more unavoidable puddles and slippery rocks. I had no one to grump at but sweet Maya and let's be honest, the only one who deserved to be grumped at was myself.

And so today I journeyed to REI and purchased the ugliest and quite possibly the most expensive pair of shoes I have ever purchased and I have to say... I'm really excited to try them out, but let's try to keep it hush-hush. No one likes to admit defeat.

The Girl Who Goes Alone

The Girl Who Goes Alone

Here’s the thing about being a girl

and wanting to play outside.

All the grownups grind it into you from the get go:

girls outside aren’t safe.

The guy in the car? If he rolls down the window and leans his head out, run,

because the best you can hope for is a catcall, and at worst,

you’ll wind up with your face on the side of a milk carton.

Even when you’re a grown-up girl, your father—because he loves you—

will send you a four-page article about how to protect yourself

while standing at the ATM, while travelling unescorted, while jogging solo,

an article informing you how to distinguish phony police

and avoid purse snatchers, pickpockets, rapists and thugs.

Tell someone you’re going into the woods alone

and they’ll fill your ears with every story they’ve ever heard

about trailside cougar attacks, cave dwelling misogynists,

lightning strikes, forest fires, flash floods,

and psychopaths with a sixth sense for a woman alone in a tent.

To be a girl alone in the wilderness is to know

that if something goes wrong—

you picked the trailhead where the ax murderer lurks

or the valley of girl-eating gophers—

if you don’t come home unscathed, the mourning

will be mixed with I-told-you-sos

from everyone whose idea of camping involves an RV or a Motel 6.

The message is clear: Girls must be chaperoned.

So when, at the end of the day, you zip up the tent

and lie back in your sleeping bag,

fleece jacket bundled

into a lumpy pillow under your head, the second

you close your eyes every least night noise is instantly magnified.

You lie there and consider the pungent heft of menstrual blood,

how even your sweat is muskier, louder, when you’re bleeding.

Not hard to imagine its animal allure—every bear for miles around

sniffing you on the night wind.

You lie there listening, running a mental inventory of any

potentially scented item—

did every one make it into the food bag hung from a tree?

Toothpaste, trail mix, chapstick, sunscreen—fuck.

Sunscreen still in your pack, nestled right beside you

where Outdoor Man used to sleep. So you’re up, out of the tent,

headlamp casting its too-bright spotlight, darkening the dark outside its reach

as you lower the bag, shove the sunscreen in on top of the trash

with its food wrappers and used tampons. Hoist and tie.

Far enough from the ground to elude the bears?

Far enough out from the branch to thwart raccoons?

Tree far enough from the tent to keep from signaling the proximity

of ground level, girl-shaped snacks?

You go alone—in part—to prove that though Outdoor Man has left you,

his body is the only geography he can deprive you of.

He can give his muscled calves and thighs, his shoulders, chest and hands

to another woman, but not the Sauk River old growth, snow fields of Rainier,

sea stacks of Shi Shi.

He can keep from you the sweet, blood-thrilling hum of his body, but not

the sweaty, blood-thumping-back-aching pleasure of a hard-earned

panoramic view, high altitude starlight or the singular blue of a crevasse.

The thing about being a girl who goes alone, who goes

again and again is that it freaks

the potential next boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be out machoed

and he doesn’t want to admit it and he hopes you can’t tell.

The thing about being the girl who still goes alone is that it proves

you don’t need him and no matter how you show him you want him

it’s not the same

and you both know it.

Zipped back into the tent you remind yourself you’ve never really been in danger.

When have you ever been in danger? Well there was that boy, but years ago,

a teenager like you, driving around bored and pissed at the world,

his BB gun and his father’s two rifles

and on the seat beside him. Lucky you.

The gun he leveled on the window ledge

lodged nothing more than a BB in your thigh.

The thing about being a girl alone in the woods is you know too much

about the grain of truth in the warnings.

Even if you seem impervious, weird good luck leaving you so far unscathed,

you know the other girls’ stories—your sister

date raped after a party in college, a friend

raped by a stranger at knife-point, the two women

shot on the Pinnacle Lake trail. The singer

killed by coyotes in Nova Scotia.

The thing

about being a girl

who goes alone

is that you feel like you shouldn’t go

if you’re afraid. If you go it should mean you’re not afraid,

that you’re never afraid. Your friends will think that you go unafraid.

This girl

who goes alone

is always afraid, always negotiating to keep the voices in her head

at a manageable pitch of hysteria.

I go knowing that there will be a moment—maybe long moments, maybe

hours of them, maybe the whole trip—when I curse myself for going alone.

When I lie in the tent and all I am is fear.

I walk in the wilderness alone so I can hear myself.

So I can feel real to myself.

I walk into the wilderness alone

because the animal in me needs to fill her nose with the scent of stone and lichen,

ocean salt and pine forest warming in early sun. I need to feel my body—

taxed and stretched and aching.

I go because I know I’m lucky to have a car, gas money, days off,

the back and legs and appetite

to take me there.

I go because I still can.

The girl who goes alone

claims for herself

the madrona, juniper, daybreak,

she claims hemlock, prairie falcon, nightfall,

nurse log, sea star, glacial moraine,

huckleberry, trillium, salal,

snowmelt, avalanche lily, waterfall,

birdsong, limestone, granite, moonlight, schist,

cirque, saddle, summit, ocean,

she claims the curve of the earth.

The girl who goes alone says with her body

the world is worth the risk.

-Elizabeth Austen

A Love Affair

Kale, you've got me.

You make my breakfast smoothie and finish my supper. You're attractive, healthy, and delicious. What more could one ask for?

XOXO

Oh, it's you, New Year...

> ...what do you want?

>> I want you to decide what type of schooling is next.

> Okay, what else?

>> Study on your own.

> And?

>> Keep up the yoga.

> Check. See you next year.

>> If all goes well...

> Wait, what?

>> GTG!