ruby slippers, anyone?

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.

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.

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.

dreams last for so long

My heart got broken today. I had a nap in which I dreamed I was reunited with many people I love. Ted was the principle character. Regretfully I woke up from such a happy dream and went straight to the computer to see if I had news from any of my friends. I hadn't checked my email in over thirty hours, and since I normally do it every half-hour or so I had high hopes. Hopes that were dashed to pieces when all I had was a horoscope entitled the Fog of Desire. I think I am lonely.

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.

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!

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."

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.

missing K and not willing to admit it

It usually comes on suddenly and without warning. I am always amazed at the people I miss, especially the when and why of it. There are small triggers that spark something in my subconscious and then I am left with the effects of it. Yesterday was such a day where this happened often.

The Akula's had their softball game at seven, and despite the looming threat of an awkward run-in with J, I went. I felt like I was watched the entire time, but I didn't mind. As Julie said, I could dictate my own reactions. It was something else that bothered me. I never by any means missed J, but I did miss Ted, crazy badly. In his place some tall, skinny guy was pitching. Softball games will always do that to me, just as Haagen Dazs will always make me miss Elise. Billy Joel brings back Bryan and Rascal Flatts, Matt. These are the predictable ones. Like how I know I'll miss April whenever I buy a new toothbrush or listen to Blue October and Dashboard Confessional. It is the ones that blindside me that I am fascinated with.

Last night I got to missing K. It's odd really. Ashley was talking about DTRing with Brandon and all of a sudden I remembered how K and I usually never had to say things, we just knew. How when I had to tell him something important he would sit next to me so that I wouldn't have to avoid looking at him in my awkwardness. I could predict what he would do. Okay, he is really predictable. All I know is that last night laying in bed I was overcome by nostalgia for him, my friend. It happened Sunday too, when Bethany asked what had happened. Whenever he is brought up I find myself dwelling morosely on it.

Probably everyone lays in bed and forms conversations with someone who isn't there. I find it is usually the best time to tell someone off, to rehash exactly what I should have said when insulted. Last night I told off J with evil efficiency. When he looked at me all smarmily and tells me that he thinks I did have feelings for him, I counter scathingly, feelings for you? I was in love with K for a year and a half. He dumped me only two days before you kissed me. Tell me, oh genius, where in all that chaos did I have time to have feelings for you?

J thinks that he got too close to me and that my walls made me pull away. Deluded! I never trusted J, although I tried to force confidences every once in a while. One time I told him about my writing, pried from me with all my cynicism. I didn't even have the faith in J to hope that it would mean something to him. In fact, I wasn't surprised when one day he asked me with a hurt tone if I would ever tell him about my writing at all. Maybe it's not his fault that he has a crappy memory. I just remember how anything I told K about myself was cherished. He loved to hear me talk. Nobody has a worse memory than K but he remembered when I said something important.

Damn him and the fact that I miss him. Damn him that he's so far away when J is in town. Damn me most of all for knowing that I don't want him back but hoping that he might email me anyway, just to end this bit of not talking to each other. I don't care to talk to J again, but I do curse my pride that I drove K off as well. It just sucks that one is allowed to miss a friend but not a significant other, that to miss K is wrapped up with all sorts of complications. I don't want anything more than friendship with him, as if there is anything more than friendship, but I would at least like that back. I miss him and I can't do anything about it.

sisters

Sometimes I wonder if I am the peacemaker or the antagonist of the family. Probably, like everyone else, I am a little of both. I tread lightly around some areas. Sometimes after a while of egg-shell walking I decided to stomp as hard as I can right in that same tender spot. I did that with mom. I've done that many times. It usually involves the parents, though sometimes there are tensions with my siblings, mainly Joyce.

Joyce has never learned to deal. If it were her fault I might feel better being harsher on her. Even with the situation as it is, I sometimes want to grab her by the shoulders and tell her what the world is like. There are consequences! That's my wisdom, plain and simple. Every child knows that to touch something hot is to get burned. Not Joyce. She wants to move out. Again. She can't get a roommate because she is too difficult to live with. But she won't live in a cheap apartment, "because it's not safe". She only has a minimum wage job because she dropped out of high school and won't get her GED. She has to pay car payments, insurance, cell phone bills, and now living expenses for herself and cat. Her budget after bills are paid: -200 dollars.

My mom flies to the rescue. Well not exactly. My mom called me to work out a budget for me for fall. She wanted to see if there is any money left over for supplementing Joyce's "independence". She asked my advice about the whole situation. I can understand that my mom doesn't want to throw her money away on something Joyce may give up on in a week, but she also wants Joyce to feel supported so that she will make an effort to better her life. Joyce's fear of failure is crippling. Here's the clincher. Will a safety net encourage Joyce to cross the tight-rope resplendently, or will it encourage failure by blunting its consequences? Sigh. I don't know.

Along the lines of sisters, my oldest (but not old, never old) sister gets into town tonight! She is the opposite of Joyce in many respects; she's organized, successful, goal oriented. And yet, she and Joyce have always been the closest to each other. Heather, I think, is the protector. She's classy and funny and strong and honest. I am going to have a blast with her, even though I have to work and share her with my brother. It's still always good to have a sister around. Only eight more hours!

flower power

Last night the most gorgeous arrangement of flowers was left in our apartment for April. She had already gone to bed and we were forbidden to wake her. It was just as well. She woke up expecting a crummy day and got a wonderful surprise. It didn't just affect her either. All four of us in the apartment were giddy with it. I am wondering to myself, is it the thought that counts; the surprise that excites us; or is it really that we swoon over flora?

reaching out

hands. touching hands. reaching out. touching me, touching you.

Sometimes there is nothing I crave more than physical human contact. That's one of the many wonderful things about Elise: she touches all the time. If she is talking to you, her hand needs to be resting on your body. If y'all are not talking, her legs may be sprawled ungainly over yours. She loves to cuddle, to hug, to kiss. So does her male counterpart Gabe. I'm not often comfortable sitting with male legs draped over mine, nor do I usually lay my hand on a boy's thigh. But with Gabe I can! I who am so intimidated by touch have learned to freely use it.

Yesterday at church I was sitting in sacrament meeting and wanting so badly to touch someone. I finally turned to Julie and asked if I could hold her hand. She looked a little amused but offered it to me readily. I actually hugged William Way. I've been kissing Elise like I live in Anne of Green Gables. I spooned Ashley when we had a group nap. Uncomplicated touch is probably the best way to relate to another human being. I love that Elise taught me that lesson.

Last night was her going away party. She is returning home to the great state of Texas to await The Call. She wants me to come to her farewell. It's so fun. I know I will miss her, but she will make a wonderful missionary. She loves everyone, really loves them. I didn't know anyone took that passage in Matthew seriously, but Elise sure does. She takes everyone into her life as though they have been her best friends, and people react by loving her like one. The small gathering of her most intimate friends last night consisted of over twenty people. Elise spawns love wherever she goes. As long as she can keep her hands to herself for eighteen months, nothing will stop her. We she leaves behind will be better for having known her, more open, engaging and vulnerable; but we will find life is one light bulb short.