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Twelve weeks of class left. First substantial test next week in my travel class. I think I’ll do fine.
I’m supposed to carry around a calendar to keep all of the stuff/ to do’s in my life organized. Just not there. Tried. Failed.
So, I have slips of paper stuck in my wallet that list appointments. Notes jotted down inside notebooks. And doing my best to remember when I have to what and when.
In a few days I’ll attempt to do my own industrial ear piercing. I had it done almost 10 years ago, but I had to take out for the medical assisting course. Even though that didn’t last that long, I wasn’t able to put it back in. Then I got a job at a chi-chi hotel and the only facial piercing we could have were pierced ears. I can’t even remember if guys were allowed to have pierced ears.
Regardless, now that my hair is long and covers my ears, I want my industrial back. The original was unique- a double industrial. Double industrial, three nose rings on the same side. That’s what happens when a bleeding heart liberals lives in conservative-ville. I strike out and make myself even more different. I’ll see your brown polo shirts and raise you piercings!
In other news, every since by my dad’s mom died in 2006, I’ve been having reoccurring dreams about one of my cousins and his dad’s farm. Six years later I’m still having them.
After Granny died I sent my cousin a letter saying that I felt sad about the fact that the next and no doubt last time I would see him would be our grandmother’s funeral. Our grandmother passed away in December of 2009. I saw him at the funeral he gave me a hug, but with so many people around and it being our grandmother’s funeral there wasn’t a chance to talk.
I spent a lot of time at my uncle’s farm and idolized my cousin. I was four or five and was absolutely in love with him, in that way that a four or five year can be. The highlight of our time together was when he took me for a ride on his dirt bike. I was such a tomboy, climbing trees, hiking in the woods and playing in streams.
We would play doctor, but it was far from sexual. It was more about who could whom more. There was this wooden bird, like a 70’s style woodpecker and we would see how hard we could hit each other with it on knees, like the reflex hammers.
He had a cousin, not related to me, that I had a great time hanging out. We would hide under the pine trees and just hang out. Once again, nothing sexual.
A few days ago I wrote my cousin another letter that said I’d like to spend some time with him at his dad’s farm. Just us, like forest ninjas. I need to make peace with that time in my life. There was so much going on that I was too young to know about. And there was stuff that I was all too aware about and I would escape the world and create my own in those woods. Imaginary friends, hunting dogs as faithful companions, crossing trees that had fallen over ravines.
I need to go back there and make peace.
The problem is that no one else can know about this journey. It especially can’t get back to my mom. I don’t plan on visiting her on this trip. I want to go to my uncle’s farm and spend some time alone at my grandmother’s grave.
There’s more to story about why my mom can’t know I’m visiting my uncle’s farm, but I’m not feeling like getting into all of that.
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