My Mumbling Thoughts

I've only lived with women since I was four-years-old. Of course it was Momma and Mel so I don't think that it counts that much since, you know, we're family and all. There was a brief time when I lived with my cousin, David and Uncle Ronnie, but it was only for a couple of months so I don't really think that that counts either.

Here at university, I live with seven other girls. Women. Young women. Ladies. Chicks. Whatever. We all have our own rooms and bathrooms, leaving only the kitchen and small dining area that we all have to share. Quite frankly, we live in the best house and everybody knows it. They all think that everybody in Lee House are posh snobs and I don't care if they do. While the rest of them take showers in co-ed bathrooms and have to padlock their cupboards in the kitchen, we can rest easy knowing that for the most part, our things are safely tucked away and we don't have to fear that everybody is going through our things. I like it.

However, even though I do live in the best house and I'm happy with my little bit of space that I can call my own, I'm still adjusting with living with seven girls. SEVEN. That's a lot of hormones floating around.

Zoe is the Irish one. She's sweet and bless her heart, but there are just some times when I think I won't ever understand what she's saying. I do believe that she would be considered one of the middle sisters in our little family.

Fiona is the other sweet middle sister. She's also one of the smokers.

Helen is the one that I get along with the most. We listen to the same kind of music, enjoy the same kind of movies and generally get along really well. Out of all the girls, I could see myself being best friends with her.

Alba is the mysterious Spanish girl that I've still yet to meet. I think I might have seen her, but it could have just been a random person. I think that I should probably start a pool to see how much longer we can go without properly meeting.

Carlene would be the "mother hen" out of us all. She's also a fellow American, being that she was born over there, but has lived here in England for the majority of her life. She also has family in Texas and it's nice to talk to somebody about shopping at Target and sharing the same food cravings for Chipotle. She's the other smoker of the house and we get along quite well.

Cat is the crazy one and the baby out of our little family. She can be annoying a lot and loves her drinks, but she's still part of our house and we all look out for her when we're out.

Guila is our floor rep who I thought was "Flora" when we first met. You would think that she would be our mother hen, but she mostly keeps to herself and likes to hang out with her friends who all live off campus.

And lastly, there's me, who everybody refers to as "our American" or "Krispy Cream". Everytime we go out to a bar or club and the girls are introducing me to whoever, they always say, "have you met our American? She lives in our house and comes from Virginia" which then leads onto other conversations about how I'm enjoying my stay in England, what I'm studying, why I chose to move over here, blah, blah, blah....they also call me Krispy Cream because I told them that that was my first food craving from home. I didn't want any of the doughnuts that they sell at grocery stores, but fresh, hot ones straight off of the conveyor belt. Up on our big message board, they nicknamed me Krispy Cream and I didn't have the heart to tell them that it was misspelled.

That would be the lot of us. For the most part, we all get along really well, but I can already begin to see some minor frustrations, mostly with Cat. Being the baby, she complains when she doesn't get her way, she's the messiest out of us all and can be a tad obnoxious when drunk. I already mentioned to Helen that it's like being on the Real World or something and how I'm waiting for a cameraman to jump out from around the corner. Will there be a lot of drama or are we all pretty chill for the most part? We all go out as a group, we meet people as a group, we dance as a group, we shop as a group. It's different and strange for me to get used to, but I like it at the same time. We're all very comfortable hanging out together in our jammies watching dvds or sitting around the table chatting while cooking dinner.

Of course we also do things on our own. Helen, in particular, likes to go out by herself a lot just to walk, think and clear her mind. I'm usually gone on the weekends in central London, and Alba has all of her Spanish friends that she prefers hanging out with.

But when we're together, when we go out, when we're all dressed up and dancing up a storm, I feel as though there should be cameras around. We are the girls of Lee House and have already cemented together as one of the oddest families I've ever been apart of.

Posted by Sam at 12:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm a writer, it's what I do. I can't yet say that it has taken over my life completely, but if I want to be halfway decent, then I'm hoping it happens soon. At least, according to my lecturer that's what I have to do.

Today was my very first college class and I have to say, it was quite liberating. I didn't feel anything special or see any kind of fireworks, but I did feel like this is where I'm supposed to be and saw a lot more fellow writers who are just young tadpoles like myself. We are marching together getting our writing groove on and by the end of this year hope to be at least a tiny bit better than we were when we first signed up.

Three hours I sat in a stuffy classroom and listened to a poet/painter/writer/chain smoker talk to a small group of young adults about what it is to be a writer. He gave us tips, some of which I already do, talked about what's expected from us in the class and made me think that even though he does come off at first like a drugged out mad man, that he's brilliant with his words and I'm going to learn a lot.

For the first hour, he said he would be doing some general lecturing and rambling, the second hour would be a writing exercise that he gives us and the final hour would be where we get into our "editing groups" and critique our peers. He wanted us to be truthful but not absolutely ruthless. We needed to quickly develop thick skins because it is a cruel world and if we can't accept when others say that our words are shit then we'll have a much harder time being a writer. It's inevitable that we're going to write absolute crap, we all think that, but we have to work our way around the "inner judge" who jabbers on and on about how horrible we are. And most importantly, writing is an art, it's a craft. Don't write nonsense bullshit just because you can, but do your best to represent everything you write to the best of your ability.

It was a hell of a lot more fun going to my Life Writing class instead of sitting in traffic and going to work where I would end up writing anyway. At least this time I'm surrounded by people who want to do the same thing as me, which is create good writing and send it out ino the world.

My first order of business is to write every single day. He told us that we have to write a little bit every day until we die. We can't be sick of writing or simply don't want to do it anymore. We must eat, breathe and live it every day. It's more important than our boyfriends/girlfriends, more important than our cats/dogs/gerbils, more important than going out and hanging with our friends, more important than our mental health. Sure, it sounds a little melodramatic, but to some degree, he's right.

So I'll be writing every day. I'm not sure if I'll be posting it all the time, but hopefully I'll be a lot more consistent then the past few days. The second thing I must do is start reading. A lot. I have to get into reading books. Sure, I read magazines and all of my regular blogs, but in order to write in the future, I need to know what's already happened in the past. Besides, you always hear about how the great writers of the world are big fans of reading. Sean (my lecturer; he hates being called by his last name) said that we should always be reading for two reasons: first is because how can you write books if you don't read them? And the second is so you can nick writing styles from others. He did make it clear that he wasn't proposing plagiarism, but simply how some people write certain things and if you can add your own different twist to it.

It is my longest class and luckily he smokes as well so I get two ten minute smoke breaks. I saw him when I went outside for my second break. He likes to walk around, check his cell phone every ten seconds and seems like he's clearing his mind of things. Or, I could be completely wrong and he's just trying to remember lyrics to a certain song that he can't get out of his head. Whatever the reason, part of me just wanted to run up to him and ask if we could talk about writing for the rest of the afternoon while we drank many cups of tea. I wanted to tell him that I was really excited about the class and how this is what I've been searching for ever since I discovered that Corporate America was not my bag of marbles.

But I didn't. I just stood in the same place, finished smoking my fag, walked upstairs and sat back in my chair until he returned. I never really was one for randomly bombarding people and being over enthusiastic.

Tomorrow is my second class for the week. Writing Contexts: Thinking like a writer. It sounds interesting and if it's anything like today's class, then I plan on spending many nights holed up somewhere, anywhere quiet and writing for hours until my eyes are completely red and swollen to the point where I can't even see what I'm writing and reach a new alternate state of consciousness. I don't see why everybody doesn't want to be a writer.

Posted by Sam at 04:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I never thought I'd be living in such a small space to where I'd have to actually prop my leg upon the sink in order to shave. Life does hand you new challenges every day and I suppose that was one of mine.

It has almost been a full week now that I've been here, and I have to say that I'm getting on a little better than the first few days. Man, the first two nights were hell and there was a moment when I wished that I wasn't even here. I cried. Twice. And then I got my first email from Momma and I cried again, really hard. I knew that being away from home was going to be hard, but I never really did realize that it was going to be so hard. I was completely out of my element and completely unknown, but it was a brand new start, and a new clean slate for me to start again.

Of course when you're crying in your room wishing that you never left just so you could watch the third season of Grey's Anatomy, you don't really see it that way. All you want is a hamburger from Five Guys, a milkshake and all of the familiar things surrounding you again.

I needed to get out.

When I think of London, the London that I know, the first thing I see is Earl's Court tube station, Nando's, Hyde Park, the London Eye and the Blackbird. I think of standing outside on Ash's balcony looking out over all of the houses, walking the streets leading up to his flat, and everything inside his flat. That's what I know and understand. That's what is familiar to me, it's what I recognize and associate London with. It's where I thought I was going to be.

It wasn't until I actually got here, though, I learned that London is massively huge and is broken down into six different zones. Central London, the one I fell in love with in the very beginning, is Zone 1, naturally. My university is in Zone 3, which is approximately a forty minute trip by bus and the tube. Really, it's not so bad, but I was still a little sad that I wasn't going to be in the very center near everything that I already know.

So since I was stressing out, feeling lost and confused, I emailed Ash and asked if he wanted to meet up sometime to get a drink and hang out. Afterall, he had sent me an email before I left Virginia letting me know that I could give him a shout after I made it in, if I ever needed anything or just wanted to see a familiar face.

I needed a familiar face. I needed to see somebody that I knew, who knew me and who I could just hang out with for a while. Everybody around me had a British accent and they kept on talking about London, but I didn't feel like I was in London and I didn't think I would until I went back. Until then, I just felt like I was in some kind of Pretend London and everything around me was fake.

Sunday afternoon, just as the rest of the British students were moving into halls, I gathered my things and weaved my through the traffic lights, train station, more traffic lights and tube station until I finally made it to Earl's Court, which is where we decided to meet. I paused when I stepped out onto the platform and looked around.

Ah, yes. It felt like coming back home.

You would think I would be a little more nervous about seeing him again. I mean, it has been a while and during all of those months a lot shit has happened. But I wasn't nervous. I wasn't scared or anxious or worried or anything. It may sound lame, but I was really happy, for lack of a better word. I was so, so happy.

We hugged, I talked about how relieved I was that I actually found my way and the first place we had to stop at was Nando's, because I was starving and hadn't eaten a proper meal since the International Dinner on Friday.

It was a strange feeling, because as we were walking down the streets that I have been thinking about ever since that day we left, I felt a part of myself being reunited with the other half that I had left behind almost two years ago. It was as if I had never left and that this is how it should have always been. I should have never left. I should have stayed here, with him, walking these streets, hearing these sounds, smelling these smells and doing all of these things together.

But I didn't and now things had changed. We had changed. The city, however, had remained the same, despite the bit of construction that they were doing.

We had one of the best afternoons. It was one of those times when you roam around and talk for centuries, catching up on things and talking about new things. I rambled a lot about university and how it already sucked and he reminded me that that's how I always start off, just like whenever I would start a new job back home. We stopped by Paul, walked for ages in Hyde Park, and eventually day turned into night when we found ourselves sitting on this very uncomfortable step until an old lady basically told us to piss off.

I didn't want to leave. Sure I was exhausted, my feet hurt and the jet lag was still taking it's toll on me, but mostly I didn't want to leave central London again. I couldn't go back to Zone 3. I didn't want to. They didn't know me at the university. My room might have been holding my things, but it wasn't home. It was just a temporary living facility. So I whined and complained until Ash offered for me to stay at his place for the night. I'm sure he knew exactly what I was doing, but I didn't want to be outright and crash without being invited first.

As we started walking towards his flat, it was the first time I had to catch my breath and take a minute to let my brain catch up with the rest of my body. I had to literally pause and stop walking for a moment because, Oh My God, I am in London.

It was the only time during the whole afternoon I almost started crying, which would have been a little embarrassing and a tad over dramatic, but still...I needed a moment to take it all in.

When I went inside I kind of spun around taking everything in and thinking, "yep, that's the same. Nope, that's changed. Was that there last time? I don't remember that." I met his flatmate, Mario, and saw Chris again which was a pleasant meeting. It was quite possibly one of the best surprise faces I've ever seen, and after a while I met his brother as well.

It was all very chill and relaxed. We watched TV and as the evening went on, I kept on getting lower and lower on the couch until finally my eyes closed and it was the next morning when I awoke.

I did come back to university, despite not wanting to ever leave until I died. I met the rest of my flatmates, went out to one of the fresher social events and have been spending most of my time running all over the campus trying to wrap up some last minute registering things. I hate all of this boring, required bullshit before you can actually begin your classes, but it still needs to be finished. I'm still meeting people but haven't made any really good friends. I'm not worried about it either. There's no need to force friendships. I feel like the old American as well, seeing as everybody I've met has either been eighteen or nineteen. I've been fighting with FedEx so that they can finally get my boxes through customs and I can finish setting up my room and start eating out of real bowls and using proper spoons instead of trying to figure out where I want to eat out next. I've braved the buses and for the most part am learning which is the right direction I should be headed in. I've done a load of laundry, ironed and have turned into one of those tea drinkers who has a cup with them at all times.

It's taking some time, but I'm getting used to it. At least now I believe that I'm actually in London and know that if I ever want to, I can always go back home. And now it's only a forty minute journey instead of an entire plane ride.

Posted by Sam at 05:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Today is my day of rest. Sure it's only Saturday, but I've decided that I needed to take a little time off from the whole crazy schedule that I've been following for the past forty-eight hours. I needed some time to breathe, to let all of this sink in, because believe it or not, I don't really believe that all of this is actually happening.

My arrival was excruciating. After I got out of the long line at customs, I had to locate my luggage which wasn't that hard. The hard part was actually lifting the damn things onto my trolley and then pushing the heavy bastards all the way to terminal 2. You would think that a hike from terminal 3 to terminal 2 wouldn't be that hard. You would be mistaken. The airport is a mammoth and pushing four extremely heavy luggages UP A RAMP is no fun at all. None.

Needless to say once I finally did make it to terminal 2, I was sweating like a hog and in desperate need of water. I decided to try and cool off outside and after about twenty minutes of sitting on a bench with all of my crap piled next to my left, I smoked a cigarette and slowly made my way back inside in search of the information desk where we would all eventually be picked up.

I wandered off to the smoking lounge since Gail (the Roehampton meet and greet lady) told me that it would be a couple of hours until the next bus arrived, but I could leave all of my luggages with her. That's when I met Trish, the girl I had seen at Dulles airport before I boarded the plane. We got to talking and I quickly learned her entire life's history within two minutes. I also learned that she's a chain smoker.

After we finally made it to the university, we were all corraled to the main house so we could get our keys. Trish and I looked around for our dorms without our luggages the first time so we wouldn't have to drag them everywhere with us and eventually found our rooms.

I am located on the very top floor. It's small, but big enough. At least the bedroom part is. The bathroom could be a little more spacious. The bathroom floor also is this weird rubber material that I don't understand. Apparently it's so you don't slip and fall when you step out of the shower, which makes sense, but I didn't see a drain, so all of the water that does spill over onto the floor while you're showering sits for a good couple of hours and slowly dries up. I think it's really gross so every time I go into my bathroom, I wear my white flip flops.

I do have a window, but it opens funny and makes it a hell of a lot harder to smoke in my room. I guess that's why they made the rooms like that. If I didn't have a smoke alarm in here, I'd risk lighting up, but since I'm a chicken shit, I take the elevator (sorry, lift) all the way downstairs and smoke on the steps. My desk and closet space is decent though. I do like it. Well, the closet itself is small and can't even hold one third of my wardrobe, but there are a lot of shelves. I guess I'll have to get used to folding clothes up instead of hanging it all.

After I got my luggages upstairs, I began my cleaning ritual, beginning with the bathroom. Oh, it was nasty. I saw our cleaning lady down the hall and asked to borrow some of her supplies. She didn't let me. I think she was offended that I was cleaning up behind her, but I can't help the fact that I have a certain standard of clean that she didn't fulfill. If anything, she should have been happy that I wasn't making her do it over.

It took me about three hours, but it felt good to get everything properly cleaned and set up. My small space was starting to resemble my room in Virginia, which made me feel a little closer to home. I took a long, hot shower and got ready for the pizza night that we were having that evening. I really just wanted to clock out and sleep for a couple of hours, but I really needed to eat something other than mini Snickers bars.

The next morning we had the International Welcome Breakfast and afterwards we took a tour of our campus. It's a beautiful place, I tell ya, and even though it's ancient (built sometime in the 1800's), I love it and can't wait until I really learn my way around. We're surrounded by nature and the first night here, I saw a fox. A real, live fox. It was insane. Apparently all of the animals are really tame too, especially the squirrels, and will just walk straight up to you. On some level that kind of scares me since I don't know if I'm going to get rabis, but it's also cool. Kind of like an open petting zoo.

The trip to Asda was what I was really looking forward to. I had my list ready to go and couldn't wait to take on their shopping center. On the very top of my list was a hair dryer, because if my hair isn't tamed every single morning, it is a force that needs to be reckoned with. I also needed tea bags, cereal, orange juice, milk, lamps, hangers and many, many other things. However, I didn't know that we were only going to be there for an hour so after they told me that, I bolted inside like was I on Supermarket Sweep. It was insane, but kind of cool to listen to all of the other British shoppers around me. I know, it's strange, but I can tell it's going to take me a while to adjust to hearing different accents all the time.

I asked a couple of people to point me in the right direction so I could get my Must Need Items. When I asked one guy if they sold any fans so I wouldn't have to leave my window open all the time in order to cool my room off, he told me that they didn't sell them during this part of the year. He must have seen the look of confusion on my face, because he then went on to explain that they didn't need them all year around. I still couldn't grasp onto the fact that they didn't sell them all year around. I thought even if they didn't use them, maybe they sold them at a cheaper price during the cooler months like we do in the states. Just because it's summer doesn't mean you can't find a heater.

Instead I figured I would only leave my window open during the day when I can keep a close eye on whether or not a bug decides to pay me a visit, since there aren't any screens on any of their windows.

Last night was particularly hard for me. Already I've noticed that the culture shock is hitting me a lot harder than I had expected, and all of these changes coming at me so fast back to back is major trauma to my system. I just wanted to be at home, in my car, sitting in traffic, doing normal stuff that I always do. Being alone and not knowing anybody yet is really strange for me as well. I was so used to talking to Momma and Mel every evening after work, going over our days, deciding what we wanted for dinner and then watching a bit of TV. Instead now I was trying to find a place to eat, trying not to get lost and adjusting my body clock while trying not to cave into the jet lag.

Today the international group was going into central London doing this thing called Photo Frenzy, which is the treasure hunt. I knew I wanted to do it, but I decided to skip it since I've already done the tourist thing and needed some time off to catch up on my sleep and learn my surroundings a little more. I told myself that I wasn't going to puss out just after two days and start freaking out. I was going to walk around, take the chance of getting lost, and officially make myself acquainted with London.

It was a good idea. A very good idea. I woke up today feeling a lot better. As I was putting my make-up on, my next door neighbor, Flora, who is also our Floor Resident, knocked on my door and introduced herself. She was also wondering if I had a pound coin for two fifty pence coins since she was doing her laundry and the machines wouldn't take her coins. We had a quick chat and then it was off for me to start learning about where I now live.

The thing that I forgot about was all of the walking. I mean, I knew I'd be walking a lot, but it's different when you're actually here, really walking around. I'm sure when locals say that it takes them ten to fifteen minutes to walk down the street to the store, in actuality it would take me double that time, because while I'm walking, I'm pausing every so often, looking around and letting it all soak into my skin.

I stopped at some random chicken place called, Jill's, for lunch and then walked a little further down to the Shell gas station that was also part of Sainsbury's. That was cool. I also stopped into a pharmacy, found a bakery and a Barclays atm that's close to the campus.

All in all, it was really nice and I feel a little better now that I've stepped outside of the campus gates on my own and have located some places that I can walk to for regular, every day items. Now my next goal is to learn the bus system and take my chances going off into central London. If there's one thing that I didn't completely realize until yesterday, it was that London is huge. HUGE. It'll take me a while to introduce myself to everything.

Well, I do believe that this post is frighteningly long now. I think I'm going to make myself some tea (shit yeah, I'm in England now) and get ready for a bar-b-que that we're having this evening. More details about mundane things that people do, but are different because I'm in a whole new country later on.

Posted by Sam at 02:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Ahhh...I have arrived. I am sitting as I type this, in my new, small, uncomfortable computer chair that is inside of my dorm room. I had a minor panic attack when the internet wasn't working for me earlier, but all appears to be well at the moment so I'm using the opportunity to update, email and check on a few things for myself.

I'm dead beat tired. I only slept for three hours on the plane in one of the most awkward positions ever. I should have taken a picture because it looked like something only a performer in the circus could accomplish. I'm sure the man sitting next to me was impressed and I should have asked him for ten pounds for my extraordinary performance.

There is, obviously, a lot of things to update on. Things like the girl I met at the airport who just so happens to also be living in the exact same halls as me and taking the exact same course as me. It was nice to have an immediate buddy to talk to so I wasn't completely alone. I must also mention the ENORMOUS mosquito that I just killed with a vaccuum cleaner. Yeah, I'm not leaving my window open anymore. I can't ask Mel to come and kill it for me like I used to. Instead, I must get creative and ask Henry, who is the vaccuum. That's right, I named him. I have to talk about how much my dorm room already rules but how much it sucked that I had to completely re-clean after the cleaning lady came by because her idea of "clean" and my idea of "clean" clearly do not match.

Tomorrow we're having a morning breakfast, gathering type thing and then shopping at Asda's (I'm pretty sure that's what it's called) for stuff. The first order of business for me is a fan (remember the mosquito?) and lots of hangers. Lots and lots of hangers. And a couple of air fresheners just to get that weird unused dorm smell out of here. Leaving the window open is no longer an option for me. So yes, things are going to be a tad bit busy for me these next couple of weeks, but no worries because I'll be writing and if the internet doesn't suck tomorrow and the day after that, I just might be posting whenever I catch a minute. I just thought that I'd let y'all know that I am safe and sound and still in one piece. Well, almost one piece, which is why I'm buying a truckload of paracetamol for myself tomorrow. My body hurts everywhere. I hate the fact that I need so much shit.

Posted by Sam at 10:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

I can't exactly remember what grade I was in. I think it was the sixth or seventh grade, but what I do remember is that every Wednesday, a group of kids had to go and see their "counselor". Don't ask me why our school made us do this, but each grade was broken into different groups of ten and sent off to different adults to talk to and generally go through our angsty lives because as you all know, being an eleven-year-old kid in frigid North Dakota is hard.

I always thought that the group meetings were stupid but never complained because it was time that I didn't have to spend sitting at my desk with my face propped up against my hand trying not to fall over into the floor. Luckily I was in the group with the "cool counselor". She was rather young, I'd say in her mid-twenties, and tried hard enough to really get to know us, but didn't try too hard to where we all could tell that she was a flake. She seemed to geniunely want to get to know us and understand what was going on in our small lives. Every week she came prepared with a new topic to discuss, some of which again, I thought were stupid, but others which I thought made a few good points.

One topic that she brought up was trust. Who do we trust, why do we trust them, how can we learn to trust again after the trust has been broken? We'd go around the circle and a lot of people said that they trusted their friends and family. I mean, those are the most obvious choices, no? If you can't trust them, well who else can you trust?

So that Wednesday we talked about trust and since it was such a hot topic amongst all of us, she had a surprise the following Wednesday. We were going to test all of our theories that we had talked about and do something that none of the other groups got to do: we were going on a field trip.

Being in North Dakota at the time, it was really easy for us to surround ourselves with nature. You can't escape it, it's all just right there in your face. Most of it is just flat land though with tall, TALL, grass and dirt. You had to drive a few miles to get to the mountains, which is where we were headed for our field trip. Into the mountains to go on a ropes course.

When we first stepped out in front of the ropes course, I was really intimidated and frightened. I never was much of an athletic girl and the last thing I couldn't understand was how this was supposed to test our trust theories. As far as I could tell the only thing we were going to get accomplished was breaking a sweat and I didn't see any showers nearby to clean myself up afterwards.

However, it was one of the most exhilarating days of my young life.

We climbed trees, rocks, balanced on logs, ran, screamed, jumped, scraped our knees, yelled at each other, encouraged each other and throughout all of the physical activities, learned how to trust one another. I mean, when you're high up on a rock wall, even with all of the safety chords that are there to catch you if/when you fall, you're trusting your spotter who's down on the ground.

It was a fantastic thing to learn in only a few short hours, and I was so hyped up that it almost made me want to become more active. Almost.

The very last test that we did though was not a group test. We weren't broken down into partners or separated into teams. We had learned how to trust each other and now the only thing that was left for us to do was learn how to trust ourselves. It was time for us to take on the zip chord.

In case you don't know what a zip chord is, it's really quite a simple thing. Basically it's just two giant trees with a line strung up between it. The thing that makes the zip chord so insanely scary is that the line is approximately eighty feet in the air.

Oh yeah. And we had to climb it all the way to the top, strap ourselves in this rinky dink harness and pray that we wouldn't A.) smack into the other tree because we're going a zillion miles an hour or B.) fall to the ground because we were too heavy and the chord would obviously snap the moment we put any weight on it.

I was the last person to go. I had to seriously work up the nerve and convince myself that everything would be okay. I watched as each one of my team members successfully slid accross the zip line and came down smiling and laughing because it was just So Much Fun. Everyone was going on about the rush and all of the different feelings that they were experiencing just by flying on this thing.

I, on the other hand, was thinking how I was getting ready to die. Everybody had already gone, therefore using the line too much and it would be too tired to carry me. I was going to fall eighty feet out of the air and die. Die. I didn't really want to have the story, to come down laughing, to feel the rush. I wanted to live.

I eventually went though. Everybody convinced me to do it and I became another victim of peer pressure. I strapped on the helmet, had three hundred different safety ropes laced through me and began the long journey up to the top where a platform was waiting with two men holding the harness that would be the only thing keeping me at a safe distance from the ground.

I remember being very much aware of my breathing. I took a lot of deep, slow breaths and there weren't any thoughts going through my mind other than, "don't look down. Don't look down. Don't look down." I could faintly hear everyone on the ground cheering me on, but it sounded like they were in a wind tunnel. I could sort of hear them and I knew that they were right down there waiting for me, but in that moment of time, all I could focus on and care about was the very small space that was between the tree I was clinging onto and myself. Every time I moved up a step just meant that I was that much closer to the end, that much closer to feeling the ground beneath my feet.

Eventually I did make it to the platform. The two men who would be the ones strapping me into the harness congratulated me to climbing all the way and I do remember one of them saying something about how some people climb back down or just let go.

When I was up there, I looked down. I was shaking and trembling so bad. I almost started crying in front of strangers, which is a huge no, no for me. My voice was shaky and all I wanted to do was get off of that fucking platform that was so goddamned high in the air. I could barely see my classmates, I couldn't hear a thing they were saying. I thought I might faint.

After the two guys finished strapping me in, they told me to sit on the edge of the platform and slide off. I did sit down, if only so I could feel something below me and pretend that it was the ground. I gripped the rope that was in front of me and sat there with my legs dangling over the edge. All that was left for me to do was to give myself a little push and let go.

It was so surreal because the few seconds before I finally slid off, time stopped, if only for a few moments. Things became extremely clear and even at my young age, I found it to be amazing that my mind was so focused and aware of everything. Life does slow down and nothing matters. You are in the moment, you are experiencing it all first hand and not one thing is on your mind. Everything is silent.

And after one last final deep breath, I let go.

When I finally slowed down and was unhooked from everything, I realized I was crying, not because I was sad or it was scary, but because it was so liberating. Even though I was flying by at lightning speed and was spinning around like I was on a Disney ride, I felt free. It was also every bit of fun that everyone had been yapping excitedly about after they were done and I didn't die, which was a very good thing. I wanted to do it again and again and again.

It was my favorite field trip that I ever went on and after that day I always looked forward to going to our counselor's office on Wednesdays.

This Wednesday I will be embarking on a new kind of ropes course. My last couple of days have been spent having fun with friends, trying to relax, finishing up my packing, abusing a little substance (*wink* *wink*), working on chores, hanging out with my family and drifting off into my own insipid thoughts. I'm already taking a lot of deep breaths and trying to remain calm. I keep reminding myself that there's no need for me to get myself all worked up. All I need to do is wait until that point in time when I'm sitting right on the edge and there's nothing left for me to do except slide off and let go.

Posted by Sam at 08:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

It was for the first time yesterday morning that I felt it. Excitement. I could feel the chills run all inside of me and couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Our trip to North Carolina was over with and now there was nothing left for me to do other than hang out with my friends and family, pack to the maximum until the seams on my luggages were about to burst and wait out the last couple of days until my fly day.

Finally, I was just plain happy about everything. I was confident, secure and knew that I was going to be fine. There wasn't any kind of worries and for once my brain shut itself up and I could just enjoy my moment. My happy moment.

Our first day back and I haven't wasted any time with my things that I need to do. For many, many months I've been thinking and re-thinking everything over and double checking myself three thousand times. It's as if I was preparing myself for a major drill to happen and now I'm no longer practicing. It's the real deal this time.

Today was my Indoor Things To Do. Lots and lots of cleaning, ironing, organizing and re-organizing everything so that it fits just right. I took a couple of breaks to rest my feet and feed myself, but otherwise it was pretty much non-stop work from the moment I stepped out of bed until right now when I climbed back in.

It's kind of a bad habit of mine whenever I do laundry to leave piles on my bed and fall asleep with them, instead of folding them up and putting them away. Sometimes the effort is far too much for me and besides, I really like the smell of fresh laundry. Right now, I have one of the largest stacks of clothes piled at the foot of my bed and I think it's going to stay there until tomorrow. The sad thing is, it's not even laundry that I did today. They're perfectly fine, clean clothes that I've been storing away in my drawers and closet. These are the clothes that I'm packing in boxes and shipping over because the largest suitcase that I own is already packed to the max with other clothes that were also in my drawers and closet.

The funny thing is that if you were to look in any of my drawers or my closet right now, you wouldn't believe that I was going anywhere, because they're still full. Maybe not as packed as before, but I think that this is how my drawers and closet would look if I hadn't stuffed them to the point where they were over flowing and forcing them shut was a daily thing for me to do.

It appears that my mental drills were slightly off when estimating just how much shit that I own, so now I'm having to turn to my Plan B, worst case senario option, which is more boxes. A lot more boxes. Well that, and trying really hard to eliminate things that perhaps I could live without if it came down to a life or death situation.

Tomorrow shall be another busy day of Outdoor Things To Do, which includes getting my final pedicure for quite a long time, eating lunch with two of my favorite coworkers, shipping my boxes off (man, that's going to be a pretty penny), buying groceries, stopping by the bank, getting my car fixed, dropping more boxes off at Goodwill, yadda, yadda, yadda....it never ends.

So far things are moving smoothly, aside from the packing glitch. I'm surprised that I'm not more chaotic or freaking out about how much time I have, but like I said before, I'm confident. Not to the point to where I'm cocky about it, just confident enough that things are going to work out. I like being sure about things. It's a feeling that I'm welcoming with open arms.

Posted by Sam at 09:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Ah, home sweet home. Yes, indeed, we have made it safely to and from North Carolina, which was an unknown much needed little trip for me. There was a whole lot of nothing that was accomplished and I'm feeling...well, I'm feeling exhausted since six hours in a car with two family members, listening to my iPod non-stop and falling in and out of sleep can really tucker you out. At the moment I'm letting all of my electronic things charge up and letting my brain rest from too much exposure to light. So much light.

We left on Saturday which is when I re-discovered my southern accent (hey y'all!), remembered how much I love hush puppies and drank four bottles of Cheerwine. You haven't lived until you've drank some of that sugary syrup. Unfortunately they don't sell it up here in Virginia (something about small children exploding after one sip) so I had to stock up before we left. You can bet your ass that some of it is coming to London with me too. I just have to figure out how to hide it in my suitcases.

For some reason I had it all planned in my mind that we were going down to North Carolina to do something. Certainly there was a reason for us to be road tripping it all the way down there other than to see Janice and eat. Not that I ever really need a reason to go down south, and I love seeing Janice, but I was expecting at least some kind of small itinerary.

Nah. The only thing that Momma had planned was to see Janice and eat, which is fine for the first two days, but after that, I needed something to do. Anything. I got really bored really quickly and then remembered that Gastonia is in some kind of freakish time warp that has been locked and refuses to budge whatsoever.

I didn't have anyone to see, I didn't have anywhere to go, I didn't have anything to do. I wanted to scream.

Monday afternoon was nice though because that's when Mel and I saw our cousin, Ashley, that we haven't seen in almost ten years. Hell, it might be longer than ten years.

Anyway, we met up with her and took a hilarious walk down Memory Lane.

Me: "Oh, do you remember when we were in David's room and found his porn?"

Ashley: "Yeah, I was going to mention that out there, but I didn't want to in front of your momma. I remember she was really pissed about that."

Mel: "What about when your momma was cleaning out her room and y'all two were fighting over that Joe Camel shirt?"

Ashley: "What Joe Camel shirt?"

Mel: "You know the one with the little pocket on the side to hold your cigarettes? And your momma gave me that purple bathing suit that I never wore?"

Me: "I still have that Camel shirt."

Ashley "Hell, I'd probably never wear one of Momma's bathing suits either."

Me: "Oh, but you did when that dude, Billy, was over at your house one day and you wanted to show off in front of him. And David was so pissed because he hated it whenever we'd be around him and his friends."

Mel: "Yeah, and you were standing on top of the well struting and dancing in front of them both."

Me: "And when David came over to you to try and get you down you spit on him."

Ashley *laughing*: "Oh my god, I completely forgot about that."

The following day we made plans to go out to lunch at the Olive Garden since Ashley loved it there so much and hang out a little bit more before it was time to go. It was nice to get out with her and catch up on things. We all had certainly grown up and changed quite a bit, but even as I looked at Ashley and Mel, I could see that we were all still those crazy, young kids who were always getting in trouble and causing chaos.

We also briefly saw our other cousin, Danny, who stopped by Janice's house the last night we were there and we talked to him about his business and how well things are going even if he is busy up to his eyeballs.

Mostly though, our time was spent eating and laying around like the lazy schlubs we are. I saw three people that I used to go to high school with, which was...frightening. I was bitten at least twenty thousand times by mosquitoes and Janice has collected six new cats. Well, I should say five and a half considering that one of them is on the verge of collapsing and dying at any moment. I was sure that it would die while we were there, but alas, the little bugger struggled on and is still ticking. I told Janice to give me a call the second he drops dead. Mel and I have a pool going and need to know. She said we were awful. I told her that's what happens when you have nothing to do in the south.

Aside from the trees being a little taller and the people being a little older, it appears that not much has changed in the small town that I grew up in. It was good to go down and visit, but I'm glad to be back at home where I can properly catch up on all of my blogs and get started on the many, many things that I must do before the 13th. There's nothing but days in front of me now. Nothing but a couple more days.

Posted by Sam at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)