Astarte - Ch. 1

Moon beams shown through the trees. The light created shadows unlike any man nor beasts nor mythical creatures Astarte had ever seen before. Standing and watching the dancing streams of light, the impendinding darkenss all around felt like the weight of ten hundred men. Astarte moved quickly to the familiar medow. As she broke into a fast pasted walk, she gathered her dress up in her hands, not forgetting in this momentary glimpse of freedom that if her escape became known, she would be punished. Moving through the trees, darkness began to subside to a peaceful white glow of the full moon that night. As she stepped from the trees into the openess, the moonlight met her with a familiar welcome. This place had been her own safe haven throughout the years of her life. Never had she met another soul in this place, and tonight of all nights she craved that solitary confinment it provided. Her heart pounded and her bodess felt tigheter now under her heavy breathing from running the last part of the way from her home to where she stood now. As she strgggled to lossen the ties on her boddess, trying to finally break free, her mind raced through the events proceeding up to her necessary escape this evening. Home, family, and reality seemed eons away and yet in this place, she could not help but feel that his eyes were still upon her.

She had thought that this night started like most other events she had attended in her life. Although Astarte was no princess she had been considered a birth of a privledged home, and had been raised to behave in a way that represented her parents and station in life. As much as her mother had tried in her younger years to rein in the energy and spirit, Astarte had always had a side that did not comform to the ways of the world. Dresses were too heavy, her hair took too much work to keep up, and it all seemed for not. As she finally loosened her boddess she felt an ease to her suffereing, finally being able to take a full breath of air for the first time in what felt like weeks, she removed the pins from her long dark hair and lay her self down becoming one with the earth and the grassy world. Laying back looking at the stars she was reminded, as always, of how small she was compared to what the sky above. Her father had always understood her better than anyone else and, although he should not have, he had secretly hired her tutors her whole life. She was far more eduated that her peers, and could both read and write, understood the stars, and even could discuss philosophy like the boys she met at events like the one tonight.

Tonight however had been differernt. She had gone to this event with her dearest friend Samantha to meet her bethrothed; however, Astarte had not expected to meet someone new. New people did not necessarily come to events with out some sort of warning before hand. This man had been different from all the rest. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him watching her. Those blue eyes pierecing her outter deminer unnervered her. It was as if, his eyes could see through her rouse, and knew her one true dirty secret, her education, why she was always late to sewing with the other ladies her own age, and why she always seemed so bored with their conversations. Being educated amongst her peers had always caused problems, and she had always had a difficult time choosing friends. Astate did not fool herself into thinking that she was the only one who had secrets, she simply had herself convinced that hers were bigger and in essence posed a greater threat to everyone around her.

She forced herself to close her eyes, to face him in her thoughts. Why was it that he had bothered her so much? She looked at those eyes in her mind for what seemed like years, as the minutes passed she found  she was hooked. He acted like a lone wolf, with no need to comform to the social dignaties that she had become assustomed to all her life. He was not the man that her friends, if you want to call her peers that, would approve for her at all. His short stocky build made him more knightly and barbaic than the tall dark knights she had seen coming through the towns on their way to or from the Crusades. He made no mention of his time at war, but the scar on his face and his forearm were definitions of a war torn man. And yet, although some returned with the sickness, he seemed to be a whole and complete man despite what he must have seen in the war. He did not disucss his triumphs, he did not fawn over the women the way other men always did, he simply stood amongst them all and yet not attached to any.

She opened her eyes and stared at the stars. As she lay there, she evaluted where her family must think she ought to be in life, in comparison to where she actually was. It saddened her that she was unable to please them, though in her defense she had been bethrothed. She would have, if things had gone according to plan, been married by now and her parents and family would think better of her. However, her situation was what it was and that was that. Without much thought of if she rose, brushing herself off and began her journey back to her home again. With any luck like the many other times she had come to this place no one would be the wiser that she had gone, and instead of fretting about the possibility of being caught, she continued her thoughts about life and this new contemplation, a general curiosity about a man. She had not thought much of her first bethrothed, so her interest in her lone wolf was of unparralled interest to her. It entertained her that he would not be so easily allowed into her circle of peers but that in a way her parents would be thrilled. 

The man Astarte had been betrothed to had gone off to war to fight in the Crusades. Although they had known each other and had talked on occasion he did not consult with her before disappearing to the East. She realized in this that she was still mad at him. She had no use for the Crusades, but kept her mouth shut when people spoke of things they did not know. Taking peoples homes, she thought, had never been a good way to make friends, and the things that the men were bringing back, books and art and knoweldge and culture, had always seemed like something that would be worth being allies for.

After deciding to leave for the Crusades, without discussion Sir Keith announced his departure the day before he was to leave, at a dinner with her family and his. Shocked and appauled it was all Astarte could do was to sit, shaking and seathing with anger, letting none of it across her ruby red lips. The touge lashing he deserved she decided would have to wait until they were husband and wife assuming he ever returned. Her hatred had burned for months, and when news of his death came it only stregthened her anger towards him, and she had not cried one tear for him. They were to be married but they surly had not been in love. Love, Astarte had decided, was for girls to read about in their story books, to be talked to about as children at bed time stories, but it was not something that was actually achievable and it certainly did not exsist in her world. She knew her feelings for her wolf were the same, not love for him but for love of the unknown, the secreteaive and the new. This is the first time in a long time Astarte had considered the concept of marriage again.

As she approached the estate and the hill leading up to the back doors she knew that there would no answers to her questions and that she would have till tomorrow before she would even begin to dream of seeing him again. She climbed the stair case to her bedroom, removed the lock and slid silently into her room. After removing the rest of her clothing, the soft sheets felt cool against her skin, and sleep came more quickly to her than had in many months. 

Stress sucks..

I have too much stress. This is not a new revelation in my life, its something I have known for years… and years. In college after almost a week of no sleep and a semi psychotic break I found myself at Campus Health Services talking to a man about why I was losing sleep at night. I told him about who I was, what I did, and talked and talked and talked. He jotted notes nodded as I went and in the end told me two things; that I have abandonment issues and that I’m too stressed. As a college students both of these were moments were I wanted to just roll my eyes and tell him “well duh!” but, I kept my mouth shut, left his office, and never returned. The truth is I have always over stressed myself with tasks, responsibilities, work, family, life, and the like. I find that having things to do is what makes me happy. I have, over the years, tried to be aware of this stress and the toll it has on my life. Its why I left my ex-husband. Its why I try to keep my life managed as best as possible, doing a little of everything everyday so I don’t get overwhelmed. But now, it’s decision time. What do I cut to take out the stress? Do I find a new job? Do I find my job at a new location where for the first few years I won’t be so stressed? Do I hunker down dig deep and make  my current job less stressful and cut someplace else? It’s a balancing act. I was approached yesterday in the hall by I woman I both respect and admire who looked at me, smiles and said, I need a hug. After a long hug we discussed the proverbial balls that we keep in the air. As soon as one comes down, we toss it back up in the air and hopefully through the powers that be and the powers of the force we can balance them all up there. But over time, I feel my powers weakening and, in the end, I will need to remove some of these tasks, and focus on what truly makes me happy. 

Learned Niceness

Upon my diagnosis of pneumonia I had been assigned a few days of bed rest. I'm not exactly sure what bed rest means but for me what it meant was watching bad TV, no not just bad TV but lots and lots and lots of bad TV. The TV watching has been a look into myself a decade ago and the kinds of shows I loved. Apparently in the middle of the day what plays is what played a decade ago when I myself was in high school, except when I watched it, this was prime time television, new episodes every week. I’m amazed to admit this much but my ex-husband, whom during my high school days was my boyfriend at the time, was right about one thing, these shows distorted my view of the world. I cannot believe not only that I worshiped these television shows, but I bought into the hype they were selling. Love, romance, relationships, the whole nine yards I had it figured out ten years ago, and if I could tell myself ten years ago what I know now, well, I would not have married my high school sweet heart, and I would have cared more about the present. Yes I know that I would have been someone different than I am today, I would have had less life experience perhaps, I would have been hurt fewer times and perhaps would not know what I know now but I think I would have been a nicer person and perhaps that would have been enough. 

Being Sick

I've never been so sick of being sick in my entire life. I actually uttered the phrase FML this morning as I called into work, again with a 103 degree fever and thoughts of being a Navy Captain at my heart. I have no idea what will bring an end to my suffering but hopefully it will be quick.

Student Teacher Week One

I think this last week has been the longest week of my life. Having a student teacher is more exhausting than I thought, and come Monday he will be teaching his first class first period. I'm petrified that its going to go badly, and petrified that its going to be a horrible start to his teaching time. I'm like a mom worrying about her child on their first day of school. Any suggestions on how to give positive feed back and comments would be greatly appreciated!

She is...

She is the sort of person who… fights for what she believes in even if it means the end of something that she holds dear

She is the sort of person who… knows that the benefit for the greater good will in the end bring her joy and happiness and is willing to sacrifice what she knows for what can be.

She is the sort of person who… loves with her entire heart. It is her biggest strength and her biggest weakness, making her incapable of seeing the bad in people and incapable of loving them les than with the entirety of her being.

She is the sort of person who… hides pieces of who she really is.

She is the sort of person who… strives to be something she is not naturally.

She is the sort of person who… uses her words like swords to cut through the egos of others in order to make them more real. 

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?