Dreamingintheday

2010-01-23T23:20:00.000-08:00

I have big thoughts. Lots of them. I've decided to make them little. Here are my little letters.

Dear Snow,

You give me hope. In winter months consumed by death and barren hearts and landscapes, you make every thing new and beautiful. Every morning when I roll over and peek out my curtains, you remind me to take a deep breath and appreciate that each new day is a blank canvas.

Dear Susan Fox Rogers,

Thank you for your book Solo: On Her Own Adventure. I stumbled upon it when I wandered on my own into a used book store in Jackson Hole, Wyoming when I was fifteen. It made me believe I could be a strong independent woman and move across the country to begin a new life on my own. And that I was not alone in this desire.

Dear Anthropologie,

I adore everything in your store. I wish you weren't so expensive.

Dear Unhealthy Moscow Relationships,

I'm doing everything I can to not hate you all for making this such a toxic place for me. I think I could have been really happy here. Eff you.

Dear Cheese,

I love you so much. You and you alone keep me from being a vegan. Well, you and my leather tap shoes and logging boots.

Dear 2010,

I sure as hell hope you are better than 2009.

Dear 2009,

I can't believe I survived you. I'm glad you're over. It's not me, it's you.

Dear Mr. Right,

I know you are out there. Honestly, I ache to fall in love with you. But please don't find me until I find myself. I know I need to figure out who I am and what I want before I'm ready to meet you. Please don't rush me.

Dear Cell Phone,

You're the most amazing piece of technology I've ever owned. I've thrown you, dropped you, put you in glasses of beer, answered you in the shower, and washed you. And for two years you've never failed me. Please don't be offended when I turn you off. Sometimes I just need a break. It's not you, it's me.

Dear Bebo Norman,

I will ALWAYS love your music. Your words have accompanied me through some really wonderful things and really awful things. After all these years and my expanded musical preferences, you still hold a special place in my heart.

Dear Culdesac Gun Club,

Your wood stove, Sunday pitch-ins, and post-shoot beer huddle around the fire are something I will always look forward to.

Dear Knee,

Thank you for all of your years providing me with strong support for dancing and running and jumping and skipping and all of the things I've needed or wanted to do. I know you're still hurting, but I would really appreciate it if you would just get better. I don't know how much more patient I can be.

Dear Miley,

I love you so much. I can't imagine having survived the last 9 months without your tail wagging at me when I walk through the door and your cuddling when all I could do was stay horizontal. My heart breaks just at the though of leaving you.

Love,
Mindy

2010-01-07T00:25:00.000-08:00

Do you know what it feels like to have the heart to do something and not be physically capable of doing it?

More than anything, I just want to dance. I want to take a really great modern class. I want to teach tap. I want to country dance at a bar. I want to choreograph. I want. I want. I want. I want.
I need.

April 3rd at 9:30 a.m. That was the last time I danced.

Dance makes me feel beautiful, engaged, powerful, and free. I feel whole.

I haven't found a replacement and I don't think I ever will. No healthier distraction or cathartic release. Even if I do reach a more stable place and can work on being really happy and present, I don't think it will happen without dance.

What if I'm never the same?

A secret

2009-11-15T01:04:00.000-08:00

I have a talent that few people know about.
I can't put it on a resume.
I don't often share it with friends.
I suppose I intentionally developed it, but it took someone else to tune in on it.

I am not a spectacular woman. I don't turn heads when I enter a room, I know this. I'm not a particularly eloquent speaker, nor am I wildly athletic. I'm not fabulously skilled in anything, really. I'm quite mediocre in everything I do, but I am quite okay with this. I have, however, developed the ability to make men enthralled with me.
A bold statement, maybe, but I can walk into any bar, or wedding, or social gathering and within the evening have any available, straight man trying to leave with me. I'm not saying that this is what I'm always looking for, but I have yet to be unsuccessful when I try. I know enough about all of the typical "man" subjects to carry on a very convincing conversation, yet I know when to ask questions that make me sound like a woman in need of a lesson or two. I can go on about college football, logging, cars, hunting, fishing, beer, guns, etc., much more than most females I know. I can talk about virtually anything a man wants to talk about...and I can do it in a fabulous dress and heels. I know how to bite my lower lip once or twice, smile just right, and let my hair fall over both shoulders.
I'm not a particularly confident person. I've never looked in a mirror and loved what I saw staring back, now more than ever. But I can manipulate my way around it. Again, it's not a great talent to have. So, what? I can manipulate men into believing I'm a spectcular woman. But that's just it... I can manipulate men into believing I'm a spectacular woman. For that amount of time, I can see that they think I'm special. Hell, I've turned the one evening of manipulation into a three-month relationship. TWICE. (Obviously...they were healthy "relationships"). I just love the feeling of being looked at like I'm...well...spectacular.
I want it to last forever.
But I want it to last forever for real.

A Change of Heart...

2009-10-20T21:34:00.000-07:00

A lot changes in a year.
A lot changes in two years.
A lot changes in four years....

I believe I'm going to start writing again.
I'm still not able to train or dance or hike or most of the things I need to do.
I've mostly come to peace with this, for now, but feel writing may be a good idea until I can once again dance. At least.
And I have things to say. I think.

Happy thought for the day?
My Vandals are 6-1...officially Bowl Game eligible. We're ranked 37th in the country. I'm beyond okay with this :c)

2009-01-07T21:20:00.000-08:00

I am not happy.

There, I said it.

I have no idea who I am or who I want to be.
Honestly, this semester was awful. Really, really awful.
And I went through it virtually alone.

My female friends are mostly dancers. This semester, there was so much drama with them that the police were involved. Yes, the POLICE. I actually think that moves the conflict out of drama and into ridiculous. I was caught in the middle of all of it, and walked away with acquaintances that had previously been good friends. Instead of picking a side I tried to stay neutral and ended up losing friends.

My closest guy friend is in the Philippines. Do you have any idea how big the fucking Pacific Ocean is?

Justin...I don't even know how to put the relationship in to words, relating to the past or the present.

I was good friends with Jake before I started dating his little brother. He was on the team for a long time before I even considered it, but I spent time around him and with him for a few years before his brother even entered my radar. Jake taught me how to throw an axe . He was the first person to take the time to encourage me to join the team, and taught me my first event. His voice still rings in my head every time I throw that axe. He taught me how to shoot my first pistol and .22 too. He's patient, kind, compassionate, and hysterical.
And he's confined to a wheelchair or bed for the rest of his life. THE REST OF HIS LIFE.
I care about Jake a great deal, but I deeply care about and have a real connection to his brother. I want to do everything I can to support him right now, but am having a lot of trouble finding the strength on a daily basis. And I'm not even there right now. I worry about what will happen when I make it to Seattle...

I'm independent and mostly self-sufficient. I always have been and I'm certain I always will be. But I crave the comfort of having someone there. I've always had to fight for attention in every aspect of my daily life, and I believe this made me as self-sufficient as I am. At some point I've been needy at home, in relationships both romantic and platonic, and in my hobbies and ambitions. More often than not, this was to no avail. So I've figured it all out on my own.
I've discovered what I was and wasn't capable of, and I thought I'd reached a level of independence allowing me to do anything on my own. Theoretically, this should be true. In actually, it's incredibly far from the truth.

I needed a lot of things this semester, but mostly I just needed someone. Someone to understand. I needed someone to be patient enough with me to know when I was ready to talk. I needed someone to pull me out of my bed when it was so bad that I didn't eat, shower, or leave for days. I needed a phone call. I just needed someone there. I was tired of being independent enough to take care of my self. But I was alone.

I have no idea who I am, and no idea who I want to be.
And now I'm whining, apparently.

So, faithful readers...all 5 or 6 of you that I know exist, I am done for awhile. Whining or purging to a blog once a month does no good.
Maybe I'll revive in the future, maybe not.

I bid you Adieu

2008-12-08T20:51:00.001-08:00

I got a call from Lisa as I was walking into the theater for my show Saturday night.

Our friend Jake got in an accident at work. He immediately went into surgery for his spine and spinal cord, and he lived through the night. He's paralyzed at the very least.

He'll never walk again. He's a forester--his LIFE was in the woods.

I'm leaving for Portland to go see him.
I'm ANGRY.
I'm terrified.
I'm worried.
And my heart is broken.

God Bless the U.S.A.

2008-09-06T20:56:00.000-07:00

I have more to say than the next five minutes will let me.
I've had a bad few weeks. Really bad last week. But moments happen, and last night I had a few
I've never been what I consider to be an extremely patriotic person. I'm glad I live in the country I do, I guess. And I believe that America really does have some of the most beautiful places in the world. But last night I went to the rodeo.
As I stood there, one of the few people of thousands not rocking a Stetson, I really looked at what was around me. The sun was setting behind the range as the national anthem was being sung by one of the most pure alto voices I've ever heard. There was a really young boy in front of us dressed as a rodeo clown, complete with lasso, and he put his hat across his heart. The flag was carried around the area by an astoundingly beautiful palomino, and every one of the cowboys had on a pink shirt for "Tough Enough" night, where every person who is tough enough to wear pink has a dollar donated to the Breast Cancer Foundation on their behalf.
THIS is America.
It may be hyper-conservative, unrealistic America, but right now I don't care. It was perfect.
My heart smiles at moments like those, and I usually cry.
I always cry when the March of the Armed Forces is played and men and women stand when their song is played.
I always cry when the national anthem is sung well.

I'm not always okay with Idaho. Matter of fact, recently I've really not been okay with Idaho.
But the last few nights I can't imagine any other place I'd rather be.

Drugs are BAD.

2008-07-25T19:57:00.001-07:00

On Tuesday, I had an appointment at the dentist to get a few things fixed from the last dentist I had that messed stuff up. I was given super-duper-extra-strong anxiety medication that the hygienist told me would put me to sleep as soon as I sat down in the chair.
Apparently, there are a very small percentage of people that are affected differently by whatever they gave me, and they determined I am in that percentage.
While I was at the office, I felt nothing. I was completely wired and aware of everything that was going on. If you know my reaction to medical situations, you know this is a BAD thing.
I remember leaving there, and remember mom (who was driving me) asking if it was okay to stop at Best Buy. I remember walking into Best Buy and thinking the lights were really bright.
And then I lose it.
The next four hours are GONE. As has been filled in by my mother, father, and sister, in the time that I blatantly don't remember:
* We went into Best Buy and I told mom I needed to go to the bathroom. She thought I was fine so she let me go by myself, and when I found her in the T.V. aisle she said I was really worried about how expensive they all were. I walked back and forth down the same aisle saying, "I just can't find one that's cheap! Where did all of the normal televisions go?"
She pointed me toward the DVD's and told me to go pick one out. She said she saw me initially walk over to the Children's aisle, and five minutes later walked over to find me sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the Disney section, with twelve copies of Finding Nemo, a few copies of Cars, and the entire Little Einstein's collection already in the cart.
*After leaving Best Buy, we met my sister at our new bank. Our old bank moved locations, and is now in a very new, shiny place. Apparently I walked in and was astounded at how green everything was (it's a Huntington). On our way out, I walked through the drive-thru and found a key in the parking lot. Steph said I was really worried that someone from the green building had lost a key, so I made them wait for me while I went inside to return it.
* Finally, on our way home we stopped at MCL to pick up dinner. When I woke up later that night, I could tell that I had eaten broccoli but again had no recollection of it. MCL had a little "carry-out" room that you can just walk into and order without going into the restaurant. Mom said I walked in and went straight to the desert case, took out a piece of carrot cake, and went and sat on the bench and ate it before we'd even ordered our food. I said, " I have to eat the cake NOW or you'll make me share it with the other child!" When she tried to get me to order food, I ONLY wanted broccoli and wanted it WITHOUT cheese.
* The next thing I remember is waking up on the couch around 8 o'clock that night, after a three-hour nap.

WOW.

I would like to follow up by saying that today I discovered another product of those drugs.
Today I logged into my class registration for the fall semester and I had totally changed my schedule. My favorite?
I added "Igneous and Metamorphic Petrology" (weird rocks) and "Orff, Kodaly, and Dalcroze" ( a weird music class).

2008-07-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

If I was really honest on here, you would be shocked. SHOCKED.

I just needed to say that.

"Mindy. Can't you just move on?"

2008-07-08T21:11:00.001-07:00

I heard our song for the first time alone today. I hadn't heard it since January. Instead of the laugh it used to induce, I just listened.

Every thing I do and see is still linked to him. At this point, I don't think it ever won't be.

"I've changed the presets in my truck,
so those old songs don't sneak up.
They still find me, and remind me,
yeah you come back that easy.
Try restaurants I've never been to,
order new things off the menu,
that I never tried cause you didn't like.
Two drinks in, you were by my side

I've talked to friends,
I've talked to myself.
I've talked to God,
I prayed liked hell but I still miss you.
I tried sober, I tried drinking.
I've been strong, and I've been weak
and I still miss you.
I've done everything to move on like I'm supposed to.
I'd give anything for one more minute with you.
I still miss you.

I never knew until you were gone,
how many pages you were on.
It never ends, I keep turning
and line after line and you are there again.
I don't know how to let you go,
you are so deep down in my soul.
I feel helpless, so hopeless,
it's a door that never closes.
No, I don't know how to do this."

This was my decision?

Please don't burn, baby, burn...

2008-06-26T08:17:00.000-07:00

The west is on fire. If you don't know this already, you have a few changes to make because it's all over every form of news there is.

There is a system called the National Preparedness Level that increases from 1 to 5. It's similar to the national safety level you hear about (orange, yellow, blah blah blah).
In the last week we've gone from 2 to 3 to 4. We're at a 4.
According to the NIFC, to be at a preparedness level of 4:
"Two or more regions of the country are experiencing incidents requiring Type I Teams. Competition exists for resources between Geographic Areas. Or when 425 crews or five Type I Teams area committed nationally. Some firefighting resources may be pre-positioned to respond to predicted incidents and liaisons are established with the military and Canadian resources.

If that's still gibberish to you--it means we're screwed.

I have friends on some type of fire crew in pretty much every western state. I know smoke jumpers, heli-rapellers, hot shots, squad bosses...someone from every rank of the force.
For the most part, the Pacific northwest is still stagnant, mostly because it's still SNOWING there. Idaho is still okay too, because there was such a heavily precipitated winter. So without states like Oregon, Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming that are typically high-fire states even included yet, we are at a resource level of 4.

Why do you care? Well, you may not. And I can't make you. In most of our lifetimes, the great lakes region hasn't seen any big wildfires. But the west has.

I've gotten to the point where I wake myself up sweating in the middle of the night because of the nightmares I'm having.
I was trying to explain these fires to someone, and they said, "but you can put out a fire."

I think we have a warped perception of wildfires because structure firefighters seem to have so much control.
Prairie fires, forest fires, and wildfires in general are just as uncontrollable as a hurricane.
And.it's.terrifying.

By far the worst right now is California. The governor asked for federal help, and California NEVER does that.
Justin is in the middle of it, and I haven't heard from him for a week.

Gahhhhhh.
And the season is just starting. Soon, we'll be at a level 5,and I'll sleep even less.

I'm unreasonable.

2008-06-13T21:13:00.000-07:00

Do you think it's unreasonable to believe that someone would tell you, after spending hours and hours and hours with you, some in the wee hours of the night, after buying you dinner, after talking about places and people and passions with you--about his WIFE?
You'd think that she'd have come up once, or twice, or immediately.
Apparently not.

Basically?...there is no basically.

2008-05-22T20:47:00.000-07:00

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of craziness to say the VERY least.
I drove 2200 miles by myself in a little over two days ( I made it to Sturgis, South Dakota the first day...ha!) The second night I wanted to drive straight through but my family got really upset at the idea so I stopped right outside Illinois in a SUPER shady motel.
I would have been better off sleeping in my car in a Wal-mart parking lot like I wanted to.

It's a good thing I had my axe.

My job training was...whoa. They put us up in the nice cabins at Brown County State Park for four days and paid for all of our food and travel and were paid for normal work hours too. I got a total of 10 hours of sleep in a four day time span, but it was completely worth it.

I went straight from there to Florida for three days to watch my sister rock at Junior Olympic Nationals...again. And I slept. A LOT. I needed it...it's been weeks since I've slept and that's not an overstatement.
I also went to Sea World and saw EVERYTHING in the park except for Shamu. Absolutely everything except that stupid whale.

I started work officially on Wednesday and I'm still trying to figure things out. I love my park. I love the people. I love my nature center. It's a little early to use the "L" word, because things could change... but I love it.
And what's unsettling is I think I'm going to be really good at it.

Good.

2008-05-07T22:55:00.000-07:00

I am not okay. I just said a round of incredibly difficult goodbyes. I would like to think they're not forever goodbyes...but I know they are. Peace Corps for three years, job assignments in Maine and California, new lives to begin and Idaho to leave behind.
I'm leaving the hardest goodbye for 6 a.m., then I hope to drive 900-1000 miles tomorrow alone.

I am not okay.

Ode to the University of Idaho Logger Sports Team...

2008-04-26T23:36:00.000-07:00

Okay, so it may be a little like the last one. There are a substantial number of rednecks on the team, but I feel like this is necessary anyway. This might mostly be explaining the team and sport, but oh well.

After two years of watching the UILS team compete and after two years of spending time with the team members, last August I officially joined the team. However, until perhaps a month ago I was not my own person. Maybe I'm still not in some of their minds. But for the most part now I've gained my independence and their respect.

Our team is one of the best in the west, and definitely in the northwest. The team is the oldest competitive team on the university campus (even older than football), and has the winningest (I thought winningest was a word, but a squiggly red line just showed up underneath it...) record of any club or NCAA team. Last season we were sponsored by Stihl and Carhartt--which is kind of a big deal.
Our roster has about 25 competitors on it, but not everyone travels to every show. In a standard competition season, we go to Colorado State, Oregon State, University of Montana, Flathead Valley, Washington State, and wherever conclave is. This year it happens to be at the University of Montana. We also host a show at our site.
There is a long list of events, but I definitely don't do all of them.
However, throughout the season I've consistently improved and at the last comp I placed in all but one of my events.
Though this was probably incredibly boring-- now you know.

I love this. I love the way I feel on the road trips. I love the way I feel when I place in an event. I love the way these guys genuinely don't care what other people think of them. I love how tough I feel when I'm with them. I love the nicknames. OH, the nicknames! Most of the people on the team aren't called by their real name. It's so bad that I actually don't know a few of their real names, or last names at least. Dufur, Tithead, Pirate Hooker, Neeecole....you get the picture. I love that I made the decision to go for this. I love that I'm finding my niche on the team. I love the practices and competitions and parties. I love the way they treat me. I. Love. This. Team.

Last weekend, we went to Kalispell for a competition. It happened at the most perfect time. The drive there was a blast, the night before was a blast, the competition was a blast, and the night after was a blast. I did have to drive back so everyone else could drink. I was in a university vehicle towing a trailer, at night, over the lookout pass with 50 mph winds and snow white-outs.
Yes, snow. It's STILL snowing here. Today my thermometer said it was 34. Tangent...but I am not pleased Idaho, not pleased.
Anyway, we made it back alive and still drunkenly singing, but it was a good weekend. I needed it.

Ode to the North Idaho Redneck...

2008-04-09T13:35:00.000-07:00

As a brief forward: I did in fact, take all of these pictures.

Yes, I know it says north and not northern. Trust me, that's how it's said. Apparently, the top half of the state (mostly the panhandle) should be annexed because it is not the "northern" part of the state, it's a whole separate place on it's own. This is especially true for people from the area. "I'm from New York", "I'm from Texas", "I'm from North Idaho". I kid you not, ladies and gentlemen.

In my time here, I've come to know a significant number of genuine rednecks. Not hillbillies...rednecks. There is quite a difference. This may be more of an ode to the North Idaho Redneck Logger, because those are mostly the ones that i know...but anywho.

One of the things that I still have not adjusted to is chew. It doesn't matter if I'm at a Logger Sports practice, grocery shopping, or even in class--someone has a dip in. I hate it. Hate it hate it hate it. One time at a party I had a Diet Coke can that was mostly empty and I had set it down for a bit. No one else was drinking Diet Coke, so I knew the can was mine. When I picked it up to take a drink, someone had been using it as a spitter. I didn't know until I had a mouthful of soda and dip. It was the most disgusting thing ever, and it actually made me throw up. Dip is not one of the things that should be included in the ode to the north Idaho redneck, but it is so important to them that I felt it was necessary to include it. Chewing tobacco is as important to them as chocolate is to me...maybe more. Every pair of pants they own has a can ring in the back pocket. I hear complaints if they have to buy Grizzly instead of Skoal or Copenhagen. I've actually seen someone shake when he'd gone too long without putting a dip in.

A real redneck can have a dip in and drink a beer at the same time, without lessening the experience of one or the other.

When a North Idaho redneck has a party, 4wd is necessary to get there. I love this part. The fires are my favorite. Yes, I have attended a few in-town gatherings, but to truly have a party you must be in the woods. In my presence alone, couches, mattresses, entire trees, a storage shed, a bike, and more palettes than you can count have been burned. Whoever arrives with the biggest rig or the best stereo system opens all of their doors and windows and plays the music. ALWAYS country music.

Rednecks tend to have few prized possessions. However, I can think of three things that most of their lives would be incomplete without. A chainsaw, a truck, and a dog. They probably have chainsaws that cost as much as my car did, and they get used A LOT. And the trucks! A redneck requires a great deal from his truck. Off-road is an understatement. Finally, the dogs.
At the UI Lumberjack Classic this weekend, (of which I was indeed a participant), I decided that my primary reason for joining the team must have been for the dogs. Most of them have names that follow the general redneck philosophy, such as Bubba or Moonshine or Cedar or Remington ( I know one of each of those) . They are all hunting dogs, usually bird dogs, and love to fetch. While all dogs may fetch in some capacity, these dogs FETCH. They will dive into any body of water, try to climb trees, tear up bushes and fight off any other animal vying for that stick. I LOVE redneck dogs.
Rednecks are proud to be rednecks.
Finally, there is an understanding amongst rednecks that I am still trying to understand. I have never met a group of people so willing to stand by each other. Never. I've seen a shirt that says, "you mess with me, you mess with the whole trailer park!". It's so true, and also quite hilarious. While I am not officially part of their culture, I'm mostly accepted and would receive much of the same protections that a real redneck would get. While I was really upset they decided it was necessary, I've actually had punches thrown on my behalf.

And to leave you with...
I do what I can.

A string of Odes

2008-04-02T01:03:00.000-07:00

Every time I feel compelled to write, it's because I have something to complain about or something heavy to share. I would like to change this for a bit and bring you some happier thoughts. I would like make a dedication to one noun in my life. Though it won't be every day, I hope to bring you a person, place, thing, or sometimes idea that is important ( or just worthy of a post). Today?
Ode to my father:
My dad and I have a strange relationship, and while I wish we were closer than we are, I think we may be as close as his personality allows.
He is mostly a silent observer of all of the things that my family does. He usually just stands back and watches or listens to the very un-normal things we choose to do.

Every year since I've been here, he sends me a large envelope of Indiana leaves in the fall and tells me to put them on the ground to make myself feel better about the lack of pretty leaves here. In the spring, he sends me four (exactly) boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Samoas, Tagalongs, Dosidos, and Thin Mints.
When he writes, he tries to incorporate his sense of humor in every letter, accentuating just how strange it is.
One time he sent me an envelope with three rocks in it from the driveway. Each rock had a small piece of metal in it, and he wanted me to try and find and geologist or metallurgist (he thought I might have a few in my circle of friends), to see if they knew what it was. He said, "your mother thinks the small one is a bullet. I still haven't been able to tell her that they're really particles from an alien spacecraft." ...?

When Daisy died, only he really knew how I would react. He had a small tuft of her hair cut, then sealed it and gave it to me. It was exactly what I needed then.

The first time Justin came to Indianapolis, he was getting nervous (as every man should be) about meeting my father. He simply asked what he should be prepared for. I told him dad would shake his hand, make small talk for a few minutes, mostly likely about the vehicle he arrived in, then retreat to his room for the rest of the weekend. Sure enough, dad was very amicable for about ten minutes, asked about the reliability of Justin's truck, then took his "sweepstakes box" (I'll explain that later) and went to his room.

Every year my dad and I go to the Auto Show together. We spend an entire day going through the convention center sitting in EVERY SINGLE vehicle in the showroom. We will get in a vehicle, one of us in the drivers seat and one in the passenger seat, close the doors, adjust the mirrors, and push all of the buttons we feel like need pushed, then we switch sides. Even if there are people already in the vehicle, we take the opportunity to sit in the backseat while waiting our turn for shotgun and the drivers seat. We do this with every vehicle not on a pedestal, carefully critiquing each one as if we are actually contemplating purchasing it. I am hard on the gas mileage and interior (I hate cars that feel like spaceships), and he is hard on the engine, seat construction, and tires. By the end of the show, we each pick out one vehicle and go back to it. "This is the one". Each year it's different, and sometimes quite surprising. We also pick out one for mom and Steph.

Probably his most frequent hobby is entering sweepstakes. I know it sounds funny, but he actually subsribes to sweepstakes magazines that list hundreds and hundreds of different contests. He goes through and selects all of the ones any member of the family would be eligible for, then prioritizes them by date, the number of times you can enter, and who he needs to write out the entry for. He has a big brown toolbox with everything you could possibly need to fill out a postcard, application, or entry sheet, and he carries it from room to room when it's time to sit down with the sweepstakes magazine. Sometimes if a contest says that only one entry can come from each state, he'll mail me the entry's so I can mail them from here.
From this activity, we have won (among other things): A big-screen T.V., a large box of Barbie make-up, a trip for two to see the Pacers play the Orlando Magic (ahahaha!) in Orlando, a $400 evening gown that happened to be my size, a two-year supply of frozen lasagna.... the list goes on. But I think you get the point.

When I was little, he took me to State Parks and took me camping. I do believe that a person has to have an innate attraction to the natural world in order to reach the level of understanding that I have, but I also believe that an appreciation for the environment must be nurtured. I believe he did that for me.

Obviously, he is my father and I have a ridiculous number of things I could say. This is a brief Ode of my love for him and his stable, supportive role in our family.

2008-03-25T00:10:00.000-07:00

I have something to tell you, well, because I do. It's...gross? but it's real.

Last summer I was in the wilderness. Like, the wilderness wilderness. I tell a lot of people this and they still really don't understand. Yes, I was in a cabin and had a stable roof over my head. But I was 50 miles from the nearest road, and even that was a 4wd seasonal road only. I was so remote, and I could feel it.
I had a lot of trouble dealing with the trapped seclusion. I enjoyed it for awhile, but I quickly realized I had no way out. I was there until the job ended. I was suffocated in the most open area in the lower 48. I was surrounded by 5 million acres of pristine landscape, and felt trapped. It was terrifying.
About a month into my venture, I started to be concerned that my "cycle" wasn't normal. I was really late, and had just been blaming it on the extreme conditions and activity, but I started notice it anyway. After being about 2 months overdue, I started to get really sick. I would almost pass out when I stood up and I was cramping terribly. When I finally started, it was so heavy that I didn't even want to walk. I had no help, and when I did contact a nurse with the internet, she told me there was nothing I could do.
She told me that she believed I had been pregnant and miscarried. She said it was common and that I really didn't have anything to worry about. And two days later I went back to working.

I'm still not sure what to think, but it weighs on me to say the least. What if I really was carrying a child and had no idea? One of my best friends out here just had an abortion. She had a name picked out and everything. Just that hurts me. What would I have done? I truly have no idea. I really don't.
But I'm trying to make this another piece to the puzzle that was my past.
I'm trying.

I don't know why I felt like I needed to write about this, and why now is the time. I suppose I feel like sharing it relieves a little less of the burden of keeping the thoughts and wonderings to myself.
It's hopefully nothing, but just in case.

2008-03-21T11:47:00.000-07:00

I really don't have time for this right now, but alas I shall be 15 minutes late to my next activity.

I am in the midst of DDD (Dancers, Drummers, Dreamers) which is a huge collaboration between the dance program and the school of music. It's a wonderful thing really, and is supposedly the only show of it's kind in the country. It's hilarious, too. I sit backstage and laugh a lot.
Anyway, we've been teching since Sunday and we opened last night, so that's why I've been MIA and horrible at getting ahold of people. Sorry.

The Moscow City Council just voted to give insurance rights to domestic partnerships (including same-sex partnerships). I didn't get to go to the meeting because I had class, but I just got to watch the recording and it was intense. People drove all the way from Boise and Idaho Falls (6 and 9 hours away) to speak on behalf of all of the groups in the south against what was going on up here.
"Stupid liberals and giving the gays rights..."
I may have more to say about this, but I was just really excited that Moscow is now the only town in Idaho to acknowledge that a domestic partnership (no matter what sexual composition) is deserving as something so simple as basic health insurance.

Finally, as strange as this sounds, I believe I have found the perfect graduate program.
But it's at NYU.
Whoops.

And it snowed last night. Just an inch or two, but still. Really, Idaho? REALLY? It's almost April!

Aching...

2008-03-14T00:28:00.000-07:00

He's everywhere.
Faces of people I walk past, food that I eat, music I hear. His toothbrush is still there, sitting in the holder next to mine. Traces are left around my room--boxers, socks, books, pictures. I can't wear the jewelry he gave me. I can't wear jewelry period. I. can't. look. at. trees. the. same. Our mutual friends treat me differently.

Though slightly tangent, God and I are in a weird place right now. I gave up a few things for lent that I felt like without, would force me to be quicker to try and find him again. I felt like they were three things that were increasingly making me a bad person and had the capability to get me in some kind of trouble. I was partly right. The things that I gave up were indeed distracting me from practicing faith. But I don't think that they were stopping me from believing. And in all reality, not having these distractions hasn't turned me to God or faith. Not even a little bit. I'm not sure what it has made me do, maybe be aware of my choices. Or maybe made me freak out about other things.

I went to the mall on Monday and decided to go to Macy's. Now, our mall is extremely small, and our Macy's is proportional. One floor, and you can easily see from one side to the other. Very small. Anyway, I walked past the kids section and stopped in the girls department. It was covered in spring dresses. Easter dresses, really.
I miss that. I miss getting ridiculously excited to get a new Easter dress every year. I miss sitting down with all of the Sunday ads with my mom and sorting through all of the pictures from department stores and finding the perfect one, then going to that store and trying on twenty others anyway. I was always very picky but very decisive. We even did the matching gloves, hat, shoes, and purse. Maybe we were crazy, but I miss it anyway. At the same time, spending a fairly unnecessary chunk of time looking at those dresses in Macy's gave me the uterus twitch. I get them a lot. I honestly believe that other than financially, I would be ready for a child today. I need to be a mom. If someone handed me a baby and said, "here--you do it", I honestly believe I could. I'm not prepared to be a wife...but a mother, yes.
That was...unnecessary.

I wanted to tell you about the Jazz Festival too, even though it's been a few weeks. Soon.
And a job for the summer?
and dance?
and the horrible rumor (from Valentines Day) that I'm STILL trying clean up from?
I need to get out of this place. I need to get away from these people.
I wanted this week to myself, but my roommates are still here. I'm lonely.
BUT I NEED TO BE ALONE.

I'm a wreck. I really am. I don't want to sugar-coat anything.
I'm tired of pretending that I'm okay, too. I'm fairly certain that if I were to go talk to someone, they would treat me for depression.
I'm just tired of it.
The clear boundary of reality isn't defined anymore, and I'm just plain lost.
I can't sleep at night, and when I sleep during the day it's in spurts. I either don't eat or I binge. I don't want to talk to people in person or on the phone.
I'm tired of people asking me about things.
I need to stop writing now because it's hurting instead of helping.

2008-03-01T17:30:00.000-08:00

Dear Austin,

First of all, Happy Birthday. I wish you could have blown out the “21^st” candles. We all had a Mikes Lemonade Thursday night in your honor. I wish you would have been there with us to share it though, I think you would have enjoyed the evening. Your sister was with us, and I can see a lot of you in her. We were really glad to get to spend some time with her too. We talked about you as much as we felt like we could, but I’m sorry it wasn’t much. It was just easier to play cards and talk about other things though, you know? After she and Peter and Jim left, Randy and I got sit and talk for a long time. I think by the time I left at 2:00, we were both on a little better path.

I hope you didn’t think the memorial was super lame. I knew when they asked me to speak at it that I couldn’t do it by myself, but having Randy up there with me made a huge difference. You know, I almost lost it at the end, I’m glad I was on the last paragraph or I wouldn’t have made it. I was just looking at your parents, trying so hard to stay composed and trying to smile back at me. It was awful. I spoke to your mom for a long time after the ceremony. She asked questions about your study habits while you were here, and I told her the truth. You were the smartest person I knew who never had to study. You would however, come watch us study and put us on the right track when we were lost—I still really appreciate it. Do you remember the night we were supposed to be studying for a big bio test but we decided that it would be more fun to figure out how to make green waffles? Or the time you and Peter and Randy emptied your pockets to get me to eat a packet of hot sauce? I think I ended up with 47 cents, a pack of gum, half a chocolate bunny, and a battery. That was after I had gotten bored and dyed my hair earlier that day. Thank you for not making fun of me. Or the time we were supposed to be working on a huge chemistry project and it snowed?…I’m pretty sure we failed that project.

It’s been 10 months. I still hate that fucking mountain. I miss you. I went to New York in January and by the time I had come back to Idaho I was beginning to find peace with you not being here. In the last week, I’ve gotten pissed again. You’re not here, and I miss you. We miss you. I looked at the faces of the people at the memorial, and saw your absence. I saw peers feeling things like I was feeling, teachers who saw the future in you, a sister who lost her big brother and is going through the hardest years of her life without you. I saw your parents, on what should have been your 21^st birthday, missing a child, a piece of their family, lost in their past and lost in their future. It’s just not fair.

I miss you Aus. I promise I’ll come visit your tree this summer. More than once if I can. Your mom asked me to stay with them when I do, so maybe I’ll get to spend a little bit more time with them.

I wore sandals today, even though it snowed. I knew you’d be proud, or at least not have thought I was crazy. I still haven’t climbed since your accident. I know I should, you’d be really mad at me for not getting back on the wall. Your mom told me the story about how you gashed your leg open the day before you were supposed to start the Appalachian trail, and the doctor told you under no circumstances were you to start on the trail the next day. Your mom kind of smiled, and then told me that you waited two days instead. I hadn’t heard that story before. Anyway, I know you’d tell me to stop being a girl and get back on the rock. I just haven’t found it in me yet though. I’ll try again soon, I think.

I miss you Aus. A lot. Climb high, okay?
Love,
Mindy

Makes me want to go "Mmmmmmm".....

2008-02-21T18:24:00.000-08:00

We are in the midst of the Lionel Hampton International Jazz Festival, my friends.
It is the WORLDS largest educational jazz festival, and makes the population of Moscow triple for the weekend. This year it was the recipient of the National Medal of Arts, the country's highest arts honor, making it the first public university to ever receive the award. People like Ella Fitzgerald, Benny Green, and Gerry Mulligan have been performing artists at it.
It's a BIG deal.
And I LOVE it.

I've volunteered as a site worker every year, but this year I was signed up to be a driver. MONDAY MORNING I PICKED UP JOHN CLAYTON AT THE AIRPORT. Holy crap.
The man has won more Grammy's than you can carry at one time. I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. And it's a loooong way to Spokane.
My shift tomorrow starts at 9:00am and doesn't end until 1:00am (that's what...17 hours?), then my Saturday shift starts at 6:00am. Intense.
I don't care.
I love the JazzFest.
I love the feeling of being totally surrounded by people who I have an innate connection with.
When I was walking on campus with my viola before the concert on Tuesday, people just smile and nod. They know. I know.
I'm exhausted. I'm really exhausted. But these few days make my heart very happy. Very happy.
I don't know how to explain it. Every building I walk past has music coming out of it. People play saxophones while they're walking down the sidewalk. Everyone visiting on campus is whistling or singing or laughing.
I LOVE THE JAZZ FESTIVAL.
It makes me want to go "Mmmmmm."

Letting go is an impossibility...

2008-02-17T00:03:00.000-08:00

Austin's birthday is soon, and there's going to be a memorial service for him that day. I was asked to be the student who spoke at it, and I was really struggling with whether to agree or not. The person really coordinating it was very adamant about it being upbeat, and I'm not confident enough in my emotional stability to say that I won't loose it.
However, my heart is settling.
When I was in New York a few weeks ago, I was able to see a show called Spring Awakening. If you don't know it...get to know it.
Anyway, I had a moment. The music. One of the songs got me. Really struck me. Dropped-my-jaw-made-me-cry-provided-a-moment-of-understanding-and-changed-my-life struck me. You know the ones.

I don't have to let go. I never have to.
I haven't healed. Maybe I never will.
I don't get to have closure. That's not the way this is ever going to work.

Those you’ve known
And lost, still walk behind you
All alone
They linger till they find you
Without them
The world grows dark around you
And nothing is the same until you know that they have found you

When the northern wind blows
The sorrows your heart holds
There are those who still know –
They’re still home
We’re still home

Thought you know
You’ve left them far behind
You walk on by yourself, and not with them –
Still you know
They will fill your heart and mind
When they say there’s a way through this

Those you’ve known
And lost, still walk behind you
All alone
Their song still seems to find you

They call me –
Through all things –
Night’s falling
But somehow I go on

You watch me
Just watch me –
I’m calling
From longing

When the northern wind blows
The sorrows your heart’s known –
I believe…

Still you known
There’s so much more to find –
Another dream, another love you’ll hold

Still you know
To trust your own true mind
On your way – you are not alone
There are those who still know

Now they’ll walk on my arm through the distant night
And I won’t let them stray from my heart
Through the wind, through the dark, through the winter light
I will read all their dreams to the stars

I’ll walk with them now
I’ll call on their names
I’ll see their thoughts are known

Not gone –
Not gone –
They walk with my heart –
I’ll never let them go

I’ll never let them go
I’ll never let them go
You watch me
Just watch me
I’m calling
I’m calling –
And one day all will know

Big cats...

2008-02-07T23:38:00.000-08:00

I have a lot to say. A LOT. But finding the accurate words to convey the mess in my brain (...and heart) is proving very difficult.

The feelings that I am trying to keep myself from feeling are lurking around just waiting for me to stop long enough to feel them. I've done everything imaginable to merely acknowledge that they are there and try to keep moving constantly so these feelings don't have time to take control of my waking life.
However, I know they're there. Just waiting.
Have you ever seen an episode of Planet Earth? Or any animal documentary for that matter.
There's always that large feline lurking in the tall grass, waiting for the ungulate to drop it's head one last time before it lunges and sinks it's teeth into the back of the helpless preys neck. My emotions are the cat. I am the prey.
I'm feeling things for sure. It would be the farthest thing from the truth to say that the last three or four weeks have been devoid of emotion.
I believe that the closest label I can come up with is grief. I began the process of denial and disbelief, but I am grieving over the last two and half years.
This is the hardest thing I have ever done, and I'm barely, barely keeping my head above water.
At least I finally stopped throwing up.
But I know that if I stop and allow my self to process all of this, I am going to sink.
The few days that I did allow myself to try and comprehend what was going on, I got really stupid. Yes, I got stupid. I did stupid things, made some very poor decisions. I'm not game to do that again right now.

I'm a performer.
For now, I will pretend. I will put on a show, and make people assume that this is okay. That I am okay.
If I haven't told them, they don't know.
They don't need to know.

I may have made the wrong decision.