Myspace Blog - September 9th - "X-Ray Vision and a Little Bit of Home"

Folks. It's hot here. No, really. HOT.

But it's not the sort of heat you might expect. It's not the blatantly apparent sort of heat that causes a minute spout of mercury to burst forth from the tip of her home thermometer. Nor is it the sort of hot that, like in Florida, announces itself with a howdy-do and a "your hair will never dry because the air is wetter than your hair" handshake. It's a 90 degree, humid nightmare, but with Atlantic air. Hot enough to sprawl upon any cool, flat surface, yes. Not hot enough to justify all manner of wretched complaints (save this one).

Yesterday, however, was a nightmare of heat and humidity. Even huddled in the basement of my home, the heat and humidity penetrated even there. No air conditioning, friends. None. The skin feels always-wet. You are always sweating. Your back, my friends, is always sweaty. And across your brow, an endless and unglamorous array of sweat beads.

It broke into a wild storm, however, around dinner time. Cloud appeared from nowhere, driving rain, chaotic flashes of light, and thunder you ain't heard on that side of the country, my Western compadres. It continued throughout last night (imagine lightning like strobe lights in your bedroom, and thunder so violent it causes the books on your bookshelf to tremble in their covers), and into this morning. Wind, rain, and though somewhat lessened, an occasional display of lightning and thunder.

Wild stuff, folks.

The unpredictability of the weather, however, proved a comfort. Reminiscent of Washington days where it might start out cloudy, be 80 and clear skied by 12pm, by by 5pm, it's 55 degrees and pouring rain from the heavens.

Got pickles and cookies from my sister in the mail. IT WAS AMAZING. Peter and I crunched away on the yummy cookies, and savored the prospect of the pickles. How did Kris know that I was very, very disappointed I would miss out on this year's batch of our homemade, crunchy and nummy garlic pickles? She knew, folks. And she sent me some. And my life is complete.

A taste of home indeed.

Presently--sipping coffee like momma used to make (er...I guess, like I used to make in momma's home). Carpal tunnel in my arms making this blog painful (just like at Northwest!). A call, though unsuccessfully completed, from Miss Pope and Meghan yesterday (the thought counted, you guys: it made my day). WoWing till I just can't remember I'm not a priest/mage/warlock in rl (rl = real life).

Taste of home.

But I'm not "home." I'm not "coming home" for the summer, either. I am home now. I live here. I pay my rent every month. I have no Peter, no Alex, no Stephen, no teddy-bear Troy living with me. I am just here, getting a job, digging deep for car insurance, wondering if I can get tuition breaks if I start my career at my prospective university.

And I see very clearly right to the heart of the matter: I had to come here. As Miss Pope told me, and I only faintly understood, I had to do this. Even if I fail to make it out here. If, for whatever reason, I just can't get the money I need to make it, I still HAD to come out here. I had to do this.

I knew it would hard, folks. I did. I told my momma once that I had to come out here because I had to suffer. Literary, eh? But true. And I am suffering. Not in love, for I have some of those I love best right here with me. But in heartache, because some of my best loved ones are not with me. Not in hunger, for I have the same noodles and tomato sauce and egg/cheese sandwiches I always did. But in emptiness, for I haven't my Tillamook or my mum's tuna fish sandwiches or Miss Pope's brownies or Julia's candy-dish candies. Not in riches, for I have everything out here I need and more. But in representative currency, for I haven't even the momentary comfort of a loan or the knowledge that I will, somehow, always be provided for.

It's an interesting mixture, yes? I vacillate: fear to contentment, anxiety to calm.

Well. I'm off to laundry.

I love you all. I miss you all. Forgive my narrow vision for these first few weeks. All I can see is the mountain right in front of me. Were I better person, or a stronger one, I would climb it at once and look outward toward you again, but as yet...


<3 M