The Ocean

At last I could row no further. My hands were blistered, my back was burned, my body ached. With a sigh making barely a splash, I slipped overboard. With slow strokes my long hair floating about me like a jellyfish you see in the waters of Brazil, I swam towards the strange island, for a while swimming as I had rowed, against the current, then all at once free of its grip, carried by the waves into the bay and on to the beach.

I lay on that beach, allowing time to pass and allowing each wave that came in with the rising tide to carry me further and further up the beach. Sleep came all at once without invite, but when I woke, the sun was beginning to come up over the ocean. As I lay there on my back, I evaluated my body, my situation, and the ironic beauty I found myself in the presence of. The oranges reds and yellow blurred into the most miraculous sunrise I had seen in my relatively short life, and it reminded me of the sunrises and sunsets of the desert and my home. I wondered how far from home I was, and as I sat up I could feel the aches and pains for the day before, and knew that they would become worse as the hours passed this day. I heard no sound outside of the waves crashing quietly on the beach, and I focused solely on the peace this moment brought. But, as always, a nagging voice continuously reminded me that no sounds meant no people. I would need to find civilizations.

This was not a mysterious island in the middle of no where, I knew I was not all alone. Even as my hyper conscious mind was beginning to draw up gruesome notions of zombies and vampires and werewolves attacking all at once I carefully picked myself up and walked to the ocean to wash the sand from my body. As the dirt disappeared it became clear what about my body were bruises and what about my body was the dirt and grim.

I made my way across the shore line to where my boat had finally come to rest and pulled it further on to my new little island. I evaluated the contents of the boat, gathered the belongings I needed, and walked towards the forest. Using what little knowledge I had of geography I attempted to draw educated conclusions as to where I had crashed landed and what part of the world I might be in. I also wondered where the rest of my crew had gone, and how I had made it into the inflatable life boat. All the questions came to me at once and the only way I could put them to rest, was to focus on one idea at a time, where was I?

Moving

Moving seems to be a constant frame of life, life is always moving and people are always changing. However, that doesn't mean that I have to do so willingly, nor without much hesitance. I know that it is good, and in the end I am happy for the change in my life, and the step in the right direction, but the constant packing and cleaning, packing and cleaning, packing and cleaning is becoming a routine I'm not really enjoying.

Every time I stretch the roll of tape across the top of a box sealing in my things and memories, I think, gee, I can't wait to have to do this all over again. In fact, I'm going to be doing it all over again in a little less than a week. I enjoy the clear out of old stuff, and I feel the cleansing that moving brings, but for now, I'm going to be bitter, grumpy, and live my life in chaos.

Prologue

Sitting on the side of the tub I felt the whole world crashing down. Tears were streaming down my face, and no matter how hard I pushed the palms of my hands into my eyes, the tears came anyway. My nose ran as quickly as my tears as my face warmed from the release of emotion. I stood to grab toilet paper being careful not to make a sound, afraid if he heard me he might start the questions all over again. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. "Ughh" I sighed internally, taking full stock of what was looking back at me. My eyes and nose were a deep maroon, and my mouth and cheeks were contorted in a way that truly did not seem human. My hair was a mess and I can not remember the last shower I had taken, was it yesterday, the day before? I ran my fingers through my hair and reached for a scrap of toilet paper with the other. Whipping the tears and snot, smoothing my hair, made me at least like a resemblance of who I was or at least who I used to be. To tell the truth, I cry a lot these days. I sleep on the couch of my two bedroom apartment and cry. A week ago was our first anniversary, and like most marriages we were beginning to look like one of many statistics. When Steve and I had married, it had been ok, but my dirty little secret was that even as I said I do, I wasn't quite sure. I was in my gown, hair and makeup done watching my bridesmaid and my maid of honor walk out and right then, as I realized only my father and I were in the kitchen, time froze. My arms were tired of holding up my white dress in the dingy kitchen in the back of the venue we were to be married in. My feet felt tight and cramped in the white payless shoes I thought would work so well and the three inch heel I had bought only make up for some of the height difference between myself and my 6'3" tall husband to be. The metal pans hung from the walls and the ceilings alike, and for a moment the words came to me "I don't want to do this" followed quickly by an internal voice "Are you serious?!?". The monologue lasted for the briefest of seconds but there I was, discussing this with myself "Where were you months ago?"

"I don't know but I know that this is a bad plan!"

"How sure? Sure enough to tell dad, sure enough to turn tale and run? Sure enough to cause humiliation to yourself and him in front of everyone?"

After a long pause "Well no...."

"Then couldn't this just be cold feet? Couldn't this just be what everyone else goes through? Could this just be a panic attack? People are waiting chicka move your feet."

My father is a sweet man and if he noticed a pause he never gave a hint to it. We walked down the aisle, I listened to the man asked for our vows, and I behaved as I ought to behave. A philosophy of life that I had had ingrained in me, but as I said "I do" out loud, a voice in my head kept saying "Well don't worry darling marriage isn't permanent and maybe it will work out after all."

As I looked at that woman in the mirror, I was unsure of what to do next. In a few weeks we would be on a plane to Christmas in Montana with my family, and I, at least was currently miserable in my current state. Work was thus far providing relief and structure I was not aware that I needed but winter break for a high school teacher provided none of what I needed. The girl staring back looked like her whole world was ending and in a way it was. We had just had another fight about my work. I had taken to volunteering at the high school I worked at; staying later; making phone calls home and he hated me, or it, for it. I'm not sure if my marriage to my work flourished SI my marriage to Steven failed, or if my failed marriage was becoming worse and worse that I began to create a love affair with my job. Either way you look at it, it wasn't fair to either of us. I waiting for the lightings in the apartment to be turned off, I crept out of my bathroom safety and onto the couch for yet another sleepless night. 

The Start

In order to explain why I am doing this, I must first explain how I got here. During my last summer I was desperate to have something to do to occupy my time, being a teacher you get used to things being hectic, and out of control busy all time. In order to do that, I applied, interviewed, and attended a month long writing seminar for teachers known as the Southern Arizona Writing Project, a chapter of the National Writing Project, and spent the whole month living breathing and working on writing. At the end of SAWP, during the emotion and depression of being unsure I would see any of these people again, I jumped at the opportunity to join a writing group and have continued to work on my writing, participating in National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo for short, and have done a mired of other things. However, having all this writing and no where to put it, a blog in fact seemed like the best idea. I am this spring going to take a writing class at the local community college, but to have somewhere to share this, I needed a venue. Here it is, my writing, for the best of the worst, I hope anyone and everyone can enjoy.