August 6, 2006 Highs & Lows

I rode up on the elevator after lunch with two guys the other day. I was serenely carrying my Thai take-out and said, "Y'all have a good one," as I stepped out to walk down the hall to my office. As the door closed, one of them said, "She DOES have a good one," and they both chuckled. And I felt like crying or throwing up or both. ::: I tried reading The Archivist years ago when Melissa (I think) first raved about it. I couldn't get into it and set it aside. I recently gave it another go, and I'm glad I did. It's a really good book. It's not always easy to read and there is definitely a sort of intellectual detachment to much of it -- it's hard to explain -- a lot of it kind of left me cold, and I'm not sure I really got a good handle on either Matthias or Roberta as far as who they really were, deep down inside, but the section that's made up of Judith's journal is gutwrenching and and raw and strong and I felt like I knew her intimately, and the poetry, particularly T.S. Eliot's, is woven in beautifully. And I loved the ideas about religious conversion and religious deception as far as finding out later in life who your parents were, who you are, and what it all means. Are you who you were born as or how you were raised? Are religion and heritage woven into your very fiber, or can you erase and reinvent them? I recommend it. ::: We just got back from a backpacking trip in Colorado. It's hard for me to tell you exactly where we were or the path we followed because I look at a contour map and it's basically a blob of ink and squiggly lines to me. But I know that we went 22 miles in under 3 days. I know we went through several mountain passes that took everything in me to ascend to. Almost 12,000 feet is not an altitude a sea level girl experiences every day. I know that I broke down into tears on more than one occasion and that my boyfriend was a true champ and encouraged me until the end. I know that we ate oatmeal every morning, granola bars and nuts all day long, and bizarre bags of dehydrated meals reconstituted with boiling water every night that contained billions of calories and fat grams that I was assured were needed to fuel us for the next day's hiking. I know that we drank water out of streams that did not fill our intestinal tracts with bacteria like I secretly feared but rather tasted fresh and cold and perfect. I know that sometimes I could barely lift my feet when going uphill so I'd just shuffle them forward an inch at a time while breathing hard with my heart beating as fast as it ever had before and somehow they always got me where I needed to go. I know that the views of the mountains and sky blew my mind. I know that it rained and hailed and that I was sometimes very cold. I know that we saw animal poop of a wide variety. I know that we also saw a moose. And a buck and a doe that were not twenty feet away from us one night at dusk while we sat around the fire and they looked startled to see us at first but then just stood there and stared at us for several minutes while I nearly fainted from their beauty and then they hopped away. I'd never seen deer in person and I never knew that they hop when they run. I know that we walked over rocks and through forests and through alpine meadows and saw wildflowers and snow and once I lost my footing and fell clean over. I know that using hiking poles might be the best decision I ever made. I know that when you're in the middle of nowhere, it's not like you can just throw down your poles, rip off your backpack, throw yourself down on the rocks, and quit. Even though I felt like I couldn't keep going sometimes, it's not like I had a choice. And having no choice but to trudge forward, that is just what I did, and I am glad to have had the opportunity to be faced with intense challenges that I had no choice but to face and meet. I am glad I got to be in those mountains. And I know that now that we're back, I feel so tough that the next time some rude guys in an elevator make a comment about my ass I will tell them to KISS IT, and the memories of aches and pains and shivering and filth and elk poop and mosquito bites and gasping for breath are fading more every day, and all I see when I look back on our trip are the tops of the mountains and the yellow flowers and my boyfriend's cute damn face and the shooting stars. Some pictures capturing some of my highest highs and lowest lows, all by B. Still clean, fresh, and optimistic on day one Perhaps a little deliriously cheery one cold and rainy morning That cheer didn't last long Concentrating on not busting my ass Stylin' and profilin' Feeling a little wobbly in my dad's long johns At the end of the trail on the last day . . . dirty but happy (More photos here.) About this time in ... 2005: 8/4: I am intimidated by the myself of ten years ago, the one who was clearly smarter, read more, wrote more, and understood more. 8/1: I've watched this show with friends before, and such theories are exclaimed involutarily when he's onscreen: "Locke is God!" "Locke is Satan!" "Locke is the spirit of the island come to life!" "Locke is going to kill them all!" "Locke is the Messiah!" I'd be glad to see him win. 7/27: I was like, SHE IS DIANE COURT. Valedictorian, lover of the elderly, professional recorded screamer, pen giver, and daughter of the incarcerated, not to mention the ex-wife of Adrock. She is not the anygirl friend. 7/26: It was like we were in the middle of the earth but on the edge of it at the same time. 7/25: I console myself by becoming hypnotized by the antics of a little black dog, who barks at the horses riding by, plays fetch, and digs holes in the sand. 2004: 8/6: We're settled into bed again in anticipation of an early morning train to York. Not that there's any point in going to bed, really, in the LOUDEST HOSTEL IN THE WORLD. 8/5: We left the luxury of Fell House and Keswick early this morning to catch our train to Edinburgh. 8/4: We needed all the damn fuel we could get for our subsequent thirteen kilometer hike around Lake Derwentwater which was staggeringly beautiful (keyword stagger). 8/3: We arrived in drizzly Keswick (rhymes with Fezzik) and walked up a hill to our B&B, Fell House, which is a gorgeous and elegant Victorian and has unbelievable flowers in the front garden, a spotless and adorable bathroom a few steps away, a sink and a mirror in the flowery pink room with soaps and COTTON BALLS and Q-TIPS and WASHCLOTHS. 8/2: We walked up the hillside along a part dirt, part cobblestone path to St. Mary's Church where we had a great view of the Abbey and the river. And don't you know that we read the poem and I got VERY TEARY. 8/1: Here are at the Bath Backpackers Hostel sweating like fiends on a lovely cool evening because apparently our room is steamed with ninety-five degree air infused with the boiling heat of the hot spring at the Roman Baths. 7/31 (#6): I felt love for my country and for the world in a time when I desperately wanted and needed to. And for that reason and so many others, I will never forget going. And I refuse to be sarcastic or cynical about one tiny moment of it. 7/31 (#5): La Cambe Cemetery, a German cemetery, was our last stop on the tour. 7/31 (#4): We left the American Cemetery and went to Pointe du Hoc, where American rangers climbed the cliffs to assault a major German battery. 7/31 (#3): Next was the American Cemetery at Colleville-sur-Mer that overlooks Omaha Beach. And I have to say that I don't think it's still quite hit me that we were there. 7/31 (#2): We then headed to Longues-sur-Mer, a battery with beautiful views and a circular walking path. 7/31 (#1): At the Musee du Debarquement at Arromanches, we watched a thirteen-minute film about the building of the harbor, which, hello, I had never heard about in my entire life. 7/30: Then we took the funiculare up to Sacre Coeur and saw the great view of Paris and the beautiful giant church that was described in the guidebook as being something Parisians built when being basically shit on by invaders and having to eat rats but they wanted to "praise God anyway!" which I thought was funny. 7/29: Lines, lines, lines at the Eiffel Tower. So glad we didn't do it during the day or we'd have fried like bacon, you little freshman piggies. 7/28: I decided to go to Pont Neuf and take some pictures of my first glimpse of the Eiffel Tower. I stopped at one of the street vendors to buy some postcards and I THINK I MUSH AVE PUT DOWN MY AWESOME MAP, my lifeline! I felt like Vern: "I lost the comb." 7/27: I think I'm going to have to haul ass to make the flight to Paris at which point hopefully I will settle in on the 9.5-hour flight thanks to sweet blessed Xanax. 7/26: And I am starting to realize what a waste of life that is, because it's a lot harder to find the joy in life when all you do is wring your hands about all of the terrible things that could but very like won't happen. 7/25: There comes a point when you have to stop wringing your hands over every little thing you're packing and just shove that shit in there and roll with it. 2003: 8/4: "How is it possible that I have two Christmas tree stands and ten unopened packages of Halloween paper plates?!?" was an oft-repeated lament. 8/1: Well, unfortunatly Victor Fartiocas didn't get shot. I was mad. So was everyone else in the world, probably. 7/30: I could watch Kyan demonstrate cologne application by saying, "Spray ... delay ... walk away!" one million more times and never tire of it. 7/29: It's chronos and kairos and it all swirls together but I guess it's all just day by day by day. 7/28: O My Grossness. This morning I felt possibly the most ill I have ever felt. 7/25 (#2): If I had not stumbled across Melissa's journal years ago, I would not have started my own four years ago next month. 7/25: This season is going to piss me off, I can sense it already. I might have to take deep, cleansing breaths when they break up and Felicity dates a series of toolish boys with ugly curly hair. get notified. journal archives © Copyright 2006 elb