Is it totally insane to be homesick without having a home? Homesickness is just a feeling, a combination of loneliness, nostalgia, and directionlessness. Sometimes it is a complicated feeling resulting from failure, or loss, or from transience.
Maybe that is why I am homesick. I am experiencing all of that. I am afraid of failure. I live failure. I suck at my job, I am only attending school part-time, retaking classes that I inarguably failed.
I have lost my home. It was sold on Friday, emptied of all the little keepsakes that transformed it from a house into a place where memories were made, dreams dreamed and identities formed. My mom shipped out old books, paintings, couches and crayon drawings meant for the refrigerator.
I managed to keep from crying until I heard that not only do I not have a home anymore, but I have suffered a loss of limb, literally. My trees that I love so well, loved so well, have been cut down to make room for a pool. My home was not the walls, the carpet, the furniture, or the layout of the house. My home was the view from my bedroom window. The maple trees, the ivy, the niche of green that held promises of fertility and life. It was a shady spot, where the snow stayed the longest even as spring approached. This corner was home. The green-dappled light that flooded my room from the leaf-covered windows.
I am homesick for green light. There's no place like home.
Monday, August 29, 2005
sounds of silence
There are some communications that don't require words. Some answers come without saying anything. It is the pauses in life that are the most articulate.
Never wait around for a phone call. If he wanted to call, he would. Don't check your email every twenty minutes after the first day. When you ask if he wants to continue communicating and he doesn't respond for a week, then that means no. If he wanted to write, he would. Don't fly to him in Manhattan. If he wanted you, he would have made an effort.
I put the last one on the list to remind myself that I am not the only one in the world who holds out, who hopes for the insane, who stands in her own way in regards to happiness.
He's not coming, he's not writing. Go out, have fun, don't think about him. Don't call him. Yeah, I think I'll call him.
Never wait around for a phone call. If he wanted to call, he would. Don't check your email every twenty minutes after the first day. When you ask if he wants to continue communicating and he doesn't respond for a week, then that means no. If he wanted to write, he would. Don't fly to him in Manhattan. If he wanted you, he would have made an effort.
I put the last one on the list to remind myself that I am not the only one in the world who holds out, who hopes for the insane, who stands in her own way in regards to happiness.
He's not coming, he's not writing. Go out, have fun, don't think about him. Don't call him. Yeah, I think I'll call him.
Saturday, August 27, 2005
heaven is the spanish riviera
I have three rules regarding the behavior of people that I love.
1-they cannot move away, unless I move with them.
2-they cannot die, unless I die too, or first.
3-they cannot get married, unless I get married too, or first.
All in all the rules come down to the same thing. I don't like being left behind. Of course I don't mind leaving everyone else behind, so I suppose my rules aren't fair. But at least I have exceptions to the rules. I'm not going to just deny everyone's right to die. How unfair that would be!
I think I am a very reasonable person. I even came up with a solution to anyone's dilemma. Jocilyn, Julie and I were the only ones in the complex over Christmas break and we came up with...Spain. Bryan inspired it in a way. He had a job in Portland at the end of the summer and he wanted to work for a few years and then transfer internationally. I couldn't let him do it, not without me, so I decided to come too.
I made a list of friends who had to come along, who would marry whom, who would have what profession in the commune I designed, and even who of the six families would have the big screen TV's for watching BYU football via satellite. We'll go skiing in the alps in Germany for Tarythe and have trips to France for me. Our kids will grow up friends and be allowed to play in the street of our private cul-de-sac.
Since the original plotting of this story there have been some adaptations. Jon, no longer invited, for instance. Joe, now definitely invited. Marriages had to be shuffled around, but it all amounts to the same thing. I will live with everyone I love until the fateful day when I administer the special Kool-aid. Then, I will have them forever.
I think I have a preoccupation with my friends. Despite the fact that I dedicate this blog to the discovery of my own life, I recognize that I cling to my friends like to a life preserver. Although a shrink once said my biggest fear is being like my mother, I disagree. It is being unloved. Perhaps that is like her. Or worse, having no one to love. That is hell. Spain is my heaven.
1-they cannot move away, unless I move with them.
2-they cannot die, unless I die too, or first.
3-they cannot get married, unless I get married too, or first.
All in all the rules come down to the same thing. I don't like being left behind. Of course I don't mind leaving everyone else behind, so I suppose my rules aren't fair. But at least I have exceptions to the rules. I'm not going to just deny everyone's right to die. How unfair that would be!
I think I am a very reasonable person. I even came up with a solution to anyone's dilemma. Jocilyn, Julie and I were the only ones in the complex over Christmas break and we came up with...Spain. Bryan inspired it in a way. He had a job in Portland at the end of the summer and he wanted to work for a few years and then transfer internationally. I couldn't let him do it, not without me, so I decided to come too.
I made a list of friends who had to come along, who would marry whom, who would have what profession in the commune I designed, and even who of the six families would have the big screen TV's for watching BYU football via satellite. We'll go skiing in the alps in Germany for Tarythe and have trips to France for me. Our kids will grow up friends and be allowed to play in the street of our private cul-de-sac.
Since the original plotting of this story there have been some adaptations. Jon, no longer invited, for instance. Joe, now definitely invited. Marriages had to be shuffled around, but it all amounts to the same thing. I will live with everyone I love until the fateful day when I administer the special Kool-aid. Then, I will have them forever.
I think I have a preoccupation with my friends. Despite the fact that I dedicate this blog to the discovery of my own life, I recognize that I cling to my friends like to a life preserver. Although a shrink once said my biggest fear is being like my mother, I disagree. It is being unloved. Perhaps that is like her. Or worse, having no one to love. That is hell. Spain is my heaven.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
finding harbors
Today was a day to culminate the comings and goings in life. It peaks a week that was the same, of a prime month, etc. Today I took April to the airport to see her off. She went home to Ohio indefinitely. I wept the entire ride home as I listened over and over to a CD she gave me. I saw the looks that passing motorists gave me, watching me as I cried onto my dash and sobbed clinging to my steering wheel. Oh how I will miss her! And yet, I haven't a doubt in my mind that she will stay close to me, that we will keep one another posted on all of our "hands down" events in life. But for now I miss her like I missed the air I couldn't breathe for crying.
On the positive side of the temporary crossings in life, Ted is coming home. That is to say he is coming back to Provo. He's not sure where he'll live or for how long, but the important thing is that he will be back. One can't be without an April and a Ted in this life. That would just be cruel. I half-expected Ted to be at my door when I got back from the airport. Can I call it a fair trade? No, because I want them both! I'd never trade either. But no matter, Ted hasn't come yet. And when he does it will only signify a new medium for hiding myself from the world. As I am Ted's second favorite person in the whole world we will inevitably spend copious amounts of meaningful time together that will signify nothing and succeed only in damaging my potential standing as someone's first favorite person. Ah, how I the ostrich love my sand!
Other passings: Ashley, Elise, Laurie, Jackie, Julie, Jocilyn, Aubri, Joe, Brian, Dane, Troy, Troy, Matt, etc, etc, etc.
Other comings: New Roommates, Tarythe, potential friends? and Kevin.
What? Kevin did I say? Like I would pass over him so easily.
I took the opportunity of his starting work yesterday to email him a note wishing him good luck. It was answered. The determined silence is ended. Shall I let it now slip into accidental silence resulting from lack of maintenance to the relationship? After all, the hurt is gone, so why push it, right? Wrong. I have never been able to just let things go with Kevin. I certainly won't do so at this point, not after he called me a quality girl.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, "Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness. So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another. Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence."
I have seen proof enough to believe him, but still I don't. Some day these ships, all these vessels that dot the seas, they will find a harbor in which to moor themselves. Ships are not content with fickle signals cast out across the water. I would abandon whatever course I had set to reach a friendly flicker, even if it meant breaking myself on rocks as I inadvertently chased the glow of a light house. I am not alone in this. You want it too. Someday I will have anchor next to you.
On the positive side of the temporary crossings in life, Ted is coming home. That is to say he is coming back to Provo. He's not sure where he'll live or for how long, but the important thing is that he will be back. One can't be without an April and a Ted in this life. That would just be cruel. I half-expected Ted to be at my door when I got back from the airport. Can I call it a fair trade? No, because I want them both! I'd never trade either. But no matter, Ted hasn't come yet. And when he does it will only signify a new medium for hiding myself from the world. As I am Ted's second favorite person in the whole world we will inevitably spend copious amounts of meaningful time together that will signify nothing and succeed only in damaging my potential standing as someone's first favorite person. Ah, how I the ostrich love my sand!
Other passings: Ashley, Elise, Laurie, Jackie, Julie, Jocilyn, Aubri, Joe, Brian, Dane, Troy, Troy, Matt, etc, etc, etc.
Other comings: New Roommates, Tarythe, potential friends? and Kevin.
What? Kevin did I say? Like I would pass over him so easily.
I took the opportunity of his starting work yesterday to email him a note wishing him good luck. It was answered. The determined silence is ended. Shall I let it now slip into accidental silence resulting from lack of maintenance to the relationship? After all, the hurt is gone, so why push it, right? Wrong. I have never been able to just let things go with Kevin. I certainly won't do so at this point, not after he called me a quality girl.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once said, "Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown, and a distant voice in the darkness. So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another. Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence."
I have seen proof enough to believe him, but still I don't. Some day these ships, all these vessels that dot the seas, they will find a harbor in which to moor themselves. Ships are not content with fickle signals cast out across the water. I would abandon whatever course I had set to reach a friendly flicker, even if it meant breaking myself on rocks as I inadvertently chased the glow of a light house. I am not alone in this. You want it too. Someday I will have anchor next to you.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
it's alive!
At approximately 12:51 a.m. on August the 18th in the year 2005 I, Audrey Michal Hunter, finished my novel. Right now...Right now it is printing. As yet it is titleless, but shall be given as is to my trusted friend April and to Heather Jenkins who started me on this project. I'll trust their scrutiny of my first draft. Maybe April will even manage to give it a title. I feel like Dr. Frankenstein, and I love it!
Tuesday, August 9, 2005
thinking versus dying
"Most people would sooner die than think; in fact, they do so."
I used to think too much. Ask anyone who has known me longer than a year. They all told me so. I was christened Thinky, the eighth dwarf, by my sister Joyce. Apparently there was something wrong with this. Too many people gave me the advice to stop thinking about it and just go with the flow. I tried it. I tried listening to myself, feeling my way through life and experiencing the ups and downs. I failed classes by not planning ahead. I wasted credits by not forming my graduation plan. I hurt people's feelings by not evaluating our relationship. I led people on by just going with the flow. I never thought. I experienced a whole lot. I wish I could take it all back, but there I go being cognitive again.
I just want to know, what is wrong with thinking? What? Mankind have some of the most highly developed minds on the planet, third only to mice and dolphins. Why don't we use them? We have made cities, maps, clothes, fire, wheels, airplanes, but now we have decided that thinking is wrong? Most people would cry outrage at that statement, but it is true. We settle for sub par everything, mediocrity is our biggest friend. Ingenuity is punished. Not everywhere, of course, but in general. What is wrong with our culture that we hate anyone more advanced than we? We teach our children to do the same by our example. The smart kids are tormented by their peers whose respect they ought to have secured. To this day, I hate being called smart, even while reveling in the fact that I know I am.
I know I am smart. At least, I know I was smart. Smart people don't get into stupid personal scrapes. They don't fail classes. They don't go through life trying to ride out the current. Smart people don't act as I have been doing this last year. I stopped reading too. It seemed as my mind liquefied I became more and more satisfied with idleness and interactions with humans whom I couldn't stand on a mental level.
It is time to change. For all that my roommates complain that I don't participate as much as I have, that I read more and write all day, I will continue to do so. I will be anal about where I am going with my college career. Hell, I will make a plan, with the aid of a counselor. I will analyze things until my mind is reeling, until I come to conclusions. It is high time that I think too much.
"I think, therefore I am."
I used to think too much. Ask anyone who has known me longer than a year. They all told me so. I was christened Thinky, the eighth dwarf, by my sister Joyce. Apparently there was something wrong with this. Too many people gave me the advice to stop thinking about it and just go with the flow. I tried it. I tried listening to myself, feeling my way through life and experiencing the ups and downs. I failed classes by not planning ahead. I wasted credits by not forming my graduation plan. I hurt people's feelings by not evaluating our relationship. I led people on by just going with the flow. I never thought. I experienced a whole lot. I wish I could take it all back, but there I go being cognitive again.
I just want to know, what is wrong with thinking? What? Mankind have some of the most highly developed minds on the planet, third only to mice and dolphins. Why don't we use them? We have made cities, maps, clothes, fire, wheels, airplanes, but now we have decided that thinking is wrong? Most people would cry outrage at that statement, but it is true. We settle for sub par everything, mediocrity is our biggest friend. Ingenuity is punished. Not everywhere, of course, but in general. What is wrong with our culture that we hate anyone more advanced than we? We teach our children to do the same by our example. The smart kids are tormented by their peers whose respect they ought to have secured. To this day, I hate being called smart, even while reveling in the fact that I know I am.
I know I am smart. At least, I know I was smart. Smart people don't get into stupid personal scrapes. They don't fail classes. They don't go through life trying to ride out the current. Smart people don't act as I have been doing this last year. I stopped reading too. It seemed as my mind liquefied I became more and more satisfied with idleness and interactions with humans whom I couldn't stand on a mental level.
It is time to change. For all that my roommates complain that I don't participate as much as I have, that I read more and write all day, I will continue to do so. I will be anal about where I am going with my college career. Hell, I will make a plan, with the aid of a counselor. I will analyze things until my mind is reeling, until I come to conclusions. It is high time that I think too much.
"I think, therefore I am."
Saturday, August 6, 2005
the quill is mightier than the stereo
Today is going to be a day spent in front of my laptop writing the next great American novel. My time will be punctuated with Ace of Base songs, to which I am currently listening and which I have no intention of giving up. Ah the wonders found in my brother's CD case!
I wish I could say that I am proud of my book. I am, but I am so afraid of censure that I rarely talk about it. I am writing three books currently with many others dancing in my head. I love the quote from Little Women: "At night my mind would come alive with voices and stories. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation."
I have twenty-nine chapters written of the story that needs the least background research. One hundred and seventy pages! I want to finish this summer in order that I may say I have finished something for once in my life. So here goes. I leave to write, to listen to the muse that sits behind me and whispers passages in my ear, when she's not getting The Sign stuck in my head.
I wish I could say that I am proud of my book. I am, but I am so afraid of censure that I rarely talk about it. I am writing three books currently with many others dancing in my head. I love the quote from Little Women: "At night my mind would come alive with voices and stories. I gave myself up to it, longing for transformation."
I have twenty-nine chapters written of the story that needs the least background research. One hundred and seventy pages! I want to finish this summer in order that I may say I have finished something for once in my life. So here goes. I leave to write, to listen to the muse that sits behind me and whispers passages in my ear, when she's not getting The Sign stuck in my head.
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