It seems the roller coaster ride of the final semester in college saves its fastest loops and largest dips for the homestretch. In the past week, I've gone from considering grad school to forgetting about it, considering a second degree to forgetting about it, and from thinking that loan payments would be manageable to wanting to "ring some necks" in the financial aid office (I use that figurative phrase figuratively! It is meant to exhibit my frustration with the attitudes I encountered while fulfilling a graduation requirement today and nothing more--italics are meant only for emphasis, not for sarcasm.)
Our university has decided that exit counseling (an online service through studentloans.gov) should no longer be a requirement that is completed online at the student's convenience. Instead, the graduating seniors are required to schedule an appointment with the Financial Aid office to complete the online counseling with an aid officer literally looking over their shoulders. "It's an attempt to educate graduates and prevent them for defaulting on their loans," I was told when I got enough nerve to ask why they had changed their policy regarding this counseling during my appointment this past Monday. A.K.A.? They feel the need to babysit upcoming graduates, and while I don't mind being helped or informed, there's something seriously insulting about having someone sit behind me as I read information about loans and wait impatiently for me to finish the counseling-- she even pointed out where answers were in the text when I was taking "too long" to read the information. I don't do well with anything when I have someone over my shoulder- reading, writing, school work, anything. Add to this the fact that she required me to sign up for the loan payment that would enable me to repay the loans the quickest but also had the highest payment per month (over $300/month, how many new graduates can afford that and still afford basic essentials??) and I think it's fair to say I was a little more than annoyed during this appointment. I repeatedly scoffed about amounts, directly addressed her side comments about my change of major and my reluctance to enter the workforce with an English: Creative Writing degree, and at the end had to bite my tongue to stop the response to her, "Congratulations on completing your degree!!" from making it past my lips.
After I left the office, I had to distract myself in order to not "fly off the handle"as Galinda says to Elphie in the musical WICKED. That meant a lot of walking, ranting, cussing, and even crying. Watching the roommates play video games where they could shoot things helped a little, too. I also discovered that my recently hatched plan to return for a second Bachelor's in Environmental Science was- to use the expression of my Aquatics professor- "squelched" because the course/credit requirements required that I return to school for a minimum of two years (not one year like I initially thought) and because I was told during my frustrating financial aid meeting that the only "aid" I would recieve would be additional loans.........AND THIS WAS ONLY MONDAY.
This week was also filled to the brim with academic assignments (we have officially hit the moment when professors start screaming, "Oh, shit! I don't have enough grades in the book!! Assign alllllll the homework!!!!!!" I'd just barely complete one assignment on time before rushing off to scribble out another paper, another research assignment, a Spanish exercise, and most important of all, my senior Capstone project- which I will present in just over two weeks in order to graduate in December. It's been an absolute mess trying to complete two versions of this Capstone (required for the English Department as well as the Honors Program), but as of Wednesday night, I was given the very solid deadline of next Thursday.... by next Thursday, the Honors version of my Capstone must be completed. So, by next Thursday, for better or worse, the stupid thing will be done.
My project consists of three original Appalachian short stories (one with plans to be expanded into a novella) and a reflective paper on the creative writing process. I'm interested to see how my chaotic trips to various settings, continual playing of iTunes playlists in the background while writing, and recent personal events influence this project. This weekend is my last chance to knock this thing out of the park, and it's only the fact that I'm writing about the place I love, my West Virginia, that keeps me from becoming so overwhelmed I can no longer function.
Though this coming next week is the homestretch for my Senior Capstone, it certainly isn't the end of my remaining classes, all of which have their own demands. But hey, that's what Thanksgiving Break is for right? .......right????....... I can promise that my break will include no "academic break" other than on Thursday, when I'll spend the day at my aunt and uncle's farm in Seneca Rocks, eating amazing food, being surrounded by wonderful people, and relaxing in the beautiful mountains. Hopefully being back home will remind me why I chose Appalachian fiction at my Senior Capstone-- because I love my small town and her natural beauty.
But before I begin this week-long cram session before the last two weeks of my semester, I am planning to have some fun in the form of attending a production of the musical RENT with some amazing friends. This semester would have been impossible to get through without them- they've handled the breakdowns, the tears, the terrifying confessions, and the rants and still managed to keep me going. So next Friday, after the Capstone has been turned in, and I've loaded up my car for Thanksgiving break, I'm taking a night to myself and my friends before coming home and kicking my mile-long homework list in the butt. And it will be awesome. :)
Friday, November 15, 2013
Monday, November 4, 2013
You Are Loved
Last Friday was one of the hardest days I've experienced in my 4 1/2 years as a Shepherd Student.
It seems that this year was determined to be riddled with hardships, and it certainly has been.... for many people. This blog is not going to be me whining and complaining about how difficult life has been, but rather it will be about the strength I've drawn from these unfortunate events.
Late last Thursday night Shepherd lost a very talented, bright, and kind young man. The news reached most of the students in the English Department on Friday (the student was an English minor, set to graduate with me in December, and had been a student in a great number of my literature classes- including one this semester) and the atmosphere around Knutti Hall, our building, was one of reverent silence. When I arrived on campus shortly after seeing the student-wide email announcing that counseling services would be available for those affected by this loss, the change in the normally casually-friendly atmosphere was immediately evident. I met a friend at the street corner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did you check your email?" I nodded yes and immediately my vision blurred with tears.
That was my day-- fighting tears everywhere I went-- until my American Literature class, the one I shared with that young man. We slowly filed into the room, hardly anyone speaking and then only in whispers, no laughter (of which he almost always took part in before class started). We couldn't look at each other. When our professor came into the room, what little noise there was died, save the people that kept sniffling, just trying to breathe.
What our professor said to us during that nearly unbearable class on that most awful day made me realize that I know I made the right choice in attending a small school like Shepherd University. She told us about the counseling services, qualified her involvement by saying that she was not a counselor (which I found extremely professional and admirable), and then proceeded to tell us how much she and the other professors cared about each and every one of us. "You are loved," she said. She had barely made it three sentences in before the majority of us could no longer fight the tears. We sat in silence, listening to her talk about how our friend was a talented man, a compassionate man. "This sucks." This was the thing she said to us that really stuck in my mind. It's unbelievably simple, but it certainly wasn't an understatement. The simplicity of this sentence just symbolized the fact that we could not alter what had happened, that we were helpless against this tragedy. "Just keep doing what you're doing: ask for help, lean on each other, and know that you are loved." There was no fluff that came from her, and as she allowed us to say what we needed to (many in our class knew him quite well), I felt a great rush of admiration and thankfulness for her actions. A few students talked about his influence and his personality, one even told the perfect anecdote about our friend trying toaster strudels for the first time.
In short, we leaned upon one another and eventually made it to the point where we had temporarily stopped the tears (the toaster strudel story got many laughs because it described our friend's delightful character so perfectly). The strength we drew from one another helped me greatly, though it didn't keep me from going back to the dorm after class and sleeping for multiple hours. It is unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to bring people together, but there is something incredible about the way we rally for one another in times of hardship. This semester has consisted of many heartbreaks: the forever loss of not one, but two friends; the train wreck back home where a man died; more recently at home a house fire that killed four children and their father; a different fire that altered a relative's life permanently (even if his wife makes it through her injuries). After learning of the loss at Shepherd, I was ready to scream into the sky, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!?!?! Enough is enough," as I walked back across campus to my dorm after that emotionally draining class. When I entered the common room, my roommate had the news channel on, covering the BREAKING NEWS story of the shooting in the international airport. I'm pretty sure at that point I did shout something to the effect of enough is enough before I crawled into my bed.
Losing my resolve again even after the time in our literature class, I made it to the woods Sunday with another friend. We spent the morning hiking, jumping from rock to rock, and criss-crossing the creek by way of fallen logs. Something about being in nature, where I feel most like a "species" rather than a special type of non-animal, humbles me and gives me comfort. Thoreau, in Walden, said it well when he spoke of the ponds: "Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth." I ignored any religious thoughts as I drank in the chilly air, took copious amounts of photos, and allowed my eyes to rove continuously over the trees, the leaves, the moss covered rocks, the shallow creek. I felt myself being purified from the tragedies of the last three months. This time, the strength I feel, the drive to pick up life and carry on with what I want to accomplish, is sticking. And when I stop to think about my friend, thinking of his laughter in class and how he will never be able to laugh like that again, I hear my professor's caring tone. "You are loved."
You are loved. Despite how things feel, how desperate we may get or how stressed out we may become, we are still loved, and we have people to lean on through the hard times. As I said the day we found out about our friend, "We are strong, and we will make it through this."
It seems that this year was determined to be riddled with hardships, and it certainly has been.... for many people. This blog is not going to be me whining and complaining about how difficult life has been, but rather it will be about the strength I've drawn from these unfortunate events.
Late last Thursday night Shepherd lost a very talented, bright, and kind young man. The news reached most of the students in the English Department on Friday (the student was an English minor, set to graduate with me in December, and had been a student in a great number of my literature classes- including one this semester) and the atmosphere around Knutti Hall, our building, was one of reverent silence. When I arrived on campus shortly after seeing the student-wide email announcing that counseling services would be available for those affected by this loss, the change in the normally casually-friendly atmosphere was immediately evident. I met a friend at the street corner, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Did you check your email?" I nodded yes and immediately my vision blurred with tears.
That was my day-- fighting tears everywhere I went-- until my American Literature class, the one I shared with that young man. We slowly filed into the room, hardly anyone speaking and then only in whispers, no laughter (of which he almost always took part in before class started). We couldn't look at each other. When our professor came into the room, what little noise there was died, save the people that kept sniffling, just trying to breathe.
What our professor said to us during that nearly unbearable class on that most awful day made me realize that I know I made the right choice in attending a small school like Shepherd University. She told us about the counseling services, qualified her involvement by saying that she was not a counselor (which I found extremely professional and admirable), and then proceeded to tell us how much she and the other professors cared about each and every one of us. "You are loved," she said. She had barely made it three sentences in before the majority of us could no longer fight the tears. We sat in silence, listening to her talk about how our friend was a talented man, a compassionate man. "This sucks." This was the thing she said to us that really stuck in my mind. It's unbelievably simple, but it certainly wasn't an understatement. The simplicity of this sentence just symbolized the fact that we could not alter what had happened, that we were helpless against this tragedy. "Just keep doing what you're doing: ask for help, lean on each other, and know that you are loved." There was no fluff that came from her, and as she allowed us to say what we needed to (many in our class knew him quite well), I felt a great rush of admiration and thankfulness for her actions. A few students talked about his influence and his personality, one even told the perfect anecdote about our friend trying toaster strudels for the first time.
In short, we leaned upon one another and eventually made it to the point where we had temporarily stopped the tears (the toaster strudel story got many laughs because it described our friend's delightful character so perfectly). The strength we drew from one another helped me greatly, though it didn't keep me from going back to the dorm after class and sleeping for multiple hours. It is unfortunate that it takes a tragedy to bring people together, but there is something incredible about the way we rally for one another in times of hardship. This semester has consisted of many heartbreaks: the forever loss of not one, but two friends; the train wreck back home where a man died; more recently at home a house fire that killed four children and their father; a different fire that altered a relative's life permanently (even if his wife makes it through her injuries). After learning of the loss at Shepherd, I was ready to scream into the sky, "WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!?!?!?! Enough is enough," as I walked back across campus to my dorm after that emotionally draining class. When I entered the common room, my roommate had the news channel on, covering the BREAKING NEWS story of the shooting in the international airport. I'm pretty sure at that point I did shout something to the effect of enough is enough before I crawled into my bed.
Losing my resolve again even after the time in our literature class, I made it to the woods Sunday with another friend. We spent the morning hiking, jumping from rock to rock, and criss-crossing the creek by way of fallen logs. Something about being in nature, where I feel most like a "species" rather than a special type of non-animal, humbles me and gives me comfort. Thoreau, in Walden, said it well when he spoke of the ponds: "Talk of heaven! ye disgrace earth." I ignored any religious thoughts as I drank in the chilly air, took copious amounts of photos, and allowed my eyes to rove continuously over the trees, the leaves, the moss covered rocks, the shallow creek. I felt myself being purified from the tragedies of the last three months. This time, the strength I feel, the drive to pick up life and carry on with what I want to accomplish, is sticking. And when I stop to think about my friend, thinking of his laughter in class and how he will never be able to laugh like that again, I hear my professor's caring tone. "You are loved."
You are loved. Despite how things feel, how desperate we may get or how stressed out we may become, we are still loved, and we have people to lean on through the hard times. As I said the day we found out about our friend, "We are strong, and we will make it through this."
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Halloween Hilarity- I'm laughing again
Happy Halloween!
Last night was Trick or Treat at Shepherd University for the Shepherdstown children. Us college students got a chance to dress up and hand out candy to the children that visited our dorms with their parents, and we saw all kinds of great costumes, including an entire family dressed as Doctor Who characters (Parenting- you're doing it right!) and even a real-life Slender Man. Any children visiting our dorm would have met a tech-smart witch, a maid with a sugar high, a spectacularly creepy murderer from The Purge, and a Greek Goddess carrying around a Canon Rebel. Down the hall, Jesus handed out candy, Bane, who resided on the third floor, patiently asked all of the children, "Have you seen The Batman?" and Darth Vader kept making mandatory candy runs because we were all running short on supplies. I'm not sure that I've ever had this much fun in my five years of taking part in Shep-Or-Treat.
After the party ended, a group of us piled into the common room of our suite, studying, reading, and watching South Park, a show I've frowned upon until, as a college student, I was finally exposed to it and understood it. (Edgar Allan Poe was in one of the episodes, and I nearly died on the couch from laughing so hard- #Englishmajorproblems.) And then, as we were all in the Halloween spirit, we began discussing things that scare us- horror films, ghosts, and apparently frightening online games. That last topic ended up becoming the entertainment of the night as those of us on the couch watched my roommate play a series of games, including Slender Man and Amnesia: Justine. At one point, I nearly leapt off the couch to escape a monster that we KNEW was just on the other side of the door. I'm not a gamer, nor do I have any advanced computer skills, but I greatly enjoyed myself last night.
Wednesday also marked my final meeting with my academic advisor. Another sign of graduation looming ever closer. I laughed when my advisor said to me, "I expect this meeting to be exceptionally short." We discussed everything that needed to be discussed as well as some things that had recently come to my mind about where I wish to go from my graduation in December.
My list of things that I'm certain of is becoming longer:
I'm definitely returning home in December and seeking out my summer position, if the business will have me; I'm know I'm not running to or away from any circumstances from the past; I am no longer depending on any person to supply me with happiness- that's a job only for myself; I'm also certain that I will take these last few weeks of school to bust my butt in the BEST academic performance of my life- my English/Honors Capstone- as well as ENJOY the time with the people I like to be around; Finally, I'm letting go of the hell I've been through at this place and the people that were a part of that. I'm going to freaking enjoy these last weeks, damnit.
This new sense of independence appeared ironically after nearly having a meltdown last week that was cured by a walk, a liberating conversation, and a weekend curled up with an adorable kitten that was I caring for in Hagerstown while one of my friends got married.
Last night was Trick or Treat at Shepherd University for the Shepherdstown children. Us college students got a chance to dress up and hand out candy to the children that visited our dorms with their parents, and we saw all kinds of great costumes, including an entire family dressed as Doctor Who characters (Parenting- you're doing it right!) and even a real-life Slender Man. Any children visiting our dorm would have met a tech-smart witch, a maid with a sugar high, a spectacularly creepy murderer from The Purge, and a Greek Goddess carrying around a Canon Rebel. Down the hall, Jesus handed out candy, Bane, who resided on the third floor, patiently asked all of the children, "Have you seen The Batman?" and Darth Vader kept making mandatory candy runs because we were all running short on supplies. I'm not sure that I've ever had this much fun in my five years of taking part in Shep-Or-Treat.
After the party ended, a group of us piled into the common room of our suite, studying, reading, and watching South Park, a show I've frowned upon until, as a college student, I was finally exposed to it and understood it. (Edgar Allan Poe was in one of the episodes, and I nearly died on the couch from laughing so hard- #Englishmajorproblems.) And then, as we were all in the Halloween spirit, we began discussing things that scare us- horror films, ghosts, and apparently frightening online games. That last topic ended up becoming the entertainment of the night as those of us on the couch watched my roommate play a series of games, including Slender Man and Amnesia: Justine. At one point, I nearly leapt off the couch to escape a monster that we KNEW was just on the other side of the door. I'm not a gamer, nor do I have any advanced computer skills, but I greatly enjoyed myself last night.
Wednesday also marked my final meeting with my academic advisor. Another sign of graduation looming ever closer. I laughed when my advisor said to me, "I expect this meeting to be exceptionally short." We discussed everything that needed to be discussed as well as some things that had recently come to my mind about where I wish to go from my graduation in December.
My list of things that I'm certain of is becoming longer:
I'm definitely returning home in December and seeking out my summer position, if the business will have me; I'm know I'm not running to or away from any circumstances from the past; I am no longer depending on any person to supply me with happiness- that's a job only for myself; I'm also certain that I will take these last few weeks of school to bust my butt in the BEST academic performance of my life- my English/Honors Capstone- as well as ENJOY the time with the people I like to be around; Finally, I'm letting go of the hell I've been through at this place and the people that were a part of that. I'm going to freaking enjoy these last weeks, damnit.
This new sense of independence appeared ironically after nearly having a meltdown last week that was cured by a walk, a liberating conversation, and a weekend curled up with an adorable kitten that was I caring for in Hagerstown while one of my friends got married.
Who wouldn't be happy after a weekend with this sweetheart, right? And to top it all off, I got to spend a night hanging out with a close friend and past roommate as well this week. Overall, after setting a few things (like friendships) straight last week, I feel like I can laugh and breathe again. I had to push through quite a few hard things this semester- a break-up, no longer volunteering with horses, not obtaining a job in the lovely town of Shepherdstown- but I finally feel like I've moved past those things. I've started making lists of things that I plan to accomplish in the "spring semester" while I'm at home (Do you ever stop referring to time in terms of semesters after you're no longer in school?????), and I'm beginning to get excited about them. I'll be near my horse, living with my cat, and stationed at a job that I won't want to break glass over, and --at least initially-- I'll have the financial advantage with only having a few costs. And then there's this special door that has appeared in my future, one that I'm not going to explain fully quite yet. More research is needed, and I'm planning on completing that as soon as possible.
At a time where we get to dress up and be anything we want to be, I'm looking into what I really want to be during all those other days of the year-- looking at all the options. I'm still not positive I have the answer yet, but I definitely feel that I'm getting closer to it, and I finally feel like the decisions I make now will be mine and not the consequence of some past event that I was terrified would influence my decisions.
In retrospect, though, it might still be slightly worrisome that I wanted to dress up as Belle from Once Upon A Time for Halloween, a princess that spends her time with other fairytale characters and lives for love. I guess being a romantic is still part of me, though now I know that that aspect will not be as crippling as it has been in the past, and let's face it, Belle's still pretty badass. :)
Monday, October 21, 2013
Rude Awakenings, Midterms, Fall Break, Near Death Experiences, and Riverbanks.....
It's been a few weeks since I wrote about the Mountain State Forest Festival. Quite a lot has happened in that space of time- good things, bad things, exciting things, and dangerous things.
My return home did not unfold as I had expected it to- I was lucky enough to spend time with some close friends and the weather was pretty if not insufferably hot. My family and I abandoned our front row seats on Coronation Hill Friday afternoon for the trees at the edge of the hill in order to avoid medical emergencies, and there were plenty of those during the ceremony (a woman was taken from the bleacher seats on the hill to the awaiting ambulance via golf cart). The Fireman's Parade was as loud as ever. It's official- my head was pounding from the sirens ten firetrucks in. Thank goodness we live on the parade route and could retreat quickly. After a nearly sleepless night on the couch (due to the arrival of a "friend" that decided I didn't currently have enough drama in my life- a complete and total lie, by the way), I dragged myself to the jousting tourney, which apparently had been cancelled. Only the fences lining the route were present. So I traipsed back through the busy town by myself to accompany my sister as she shopped at the craft fairs. I had seriously considered getting up extremely early that Saturday morning and returning to school- I no longer had any desire to remain in my hometown as I realized that running from the chaos of life would accomplish nothing. The drama would follow me if I ran, as my friend illustrated with his arrival. If I had left, though, I wouldn't be able to relate the excitement of my fall horseback ride with one of my closest friends to you, and this story is one worth telling.
Sunday morning, my close friend and I clambered out of bed at 6:30 am to go horseback riding-- the only thing either of us would willingly get up that early for. We arrived at the barn by 7:30-8ish and proceeded to catch our lovely horses, warm them up with a few circuits each, and then saddled them up for the ride. We decided to switch saddles for the day (something we're prone to doing on occasion) as I'm considering buying her English saddle (something I desperately need more practivce with) and she wanted to ride in my Western one. After a few minor difficulties with attempting to mount our horses (I'm not one of those riders that can take a flying leap at a bareback horse and land magically in the right spot, so there was plenty of skittering around as well as saddle-sliding due to my pony's fat belly) we left the farm, a pack of dogs at our heels (our boarding lady has a lovely pack of dogs that run with us when we trail ride).
The day was beautifully clear, the leaves were gorgeous, and the horses were well-behaved. To understand the italics, suffice it to say that my friend and I have only had a small handful of rides that didn't involve one of us falling off, being thrown, or a horse getting panicked and/or injured. Even my ornery pony Kit was riding on a long rein with her head low, the perfect western pleasure exhibition. I brought along my relatively new Canon Rebel- it's third adventure on horseback (the first being in Costa Rica!!)- determined that I'd get some amazing pictures. Everything was splendid....
Until the dog pack flushed one of the biggest coyotes I've ever seen around our town. The coyote appeared soundlessly ahead of the horses on the road. It took my friend and I a few seconds before realizing that it wasn't one of our dogs. He loped off nonchalantly, and the pack pursued him. The horses seemed to take his appearance well.... it was the appearance of two ATVs from behind them that they didn't appreciate.
The drivers didn't slow down for the horses, which we had stopped hoping that the ATVs would go by slowly so we could keep them under control. Instead, they waited until they were level with us to slow down, and even then it was only because my friend and her horse ended up toppled over in the ditch at the edge of the road. I heard my friend scream as they went in, and I remember seeing them leaned into the ditch, against the rocky side as my own horse began to panic. At that point, all I could think was, "I can't ride English!! Sit straight, sit straight! Don't fall off!! Protect the camera!" Kit pounced all over the road, backing up, trying to turn left, where I could see my friend (whose horse was bucking and galloping down the road toward home at this point) holding her right elbow, and then turn right, facing the ATV riders who were frozen in horror, their engines still running. I took that opportunity to use some "perhaps" offensive language indicating that the drivers' presence was not at all appreciated. It was a wonder that Kit didn't think I was screaming the expletives at her, but she calmed down as soon as they gunned their engines and took off. I was able to dismount and get to my friend (who was banged up but okay for those wondering!). I retrieved her horse with the help of treats and we walked both horses back to the barn. Thankfully none, horses included, were seriously injured, and this was the scene as we left: our babies saying goodbye.
A perfect end to an interesting weekend. So I returned to school the next morning, driving through tornado warnings (something that doesn't happen often in West Virginia), just in time for midterm week. As a super-senior with a serious project (I'm writing two short stories, a novella, and an academic paper discussing my writing process) that my graduation relies upon, the idea of already being halfway through the semester is terrifying. So I went through this final midterm week spitting out papers, studying for exams, and reading countless reading assignments for my literature classes. Thursday evening, after the worst of my class work was already handed in, I was told that a close acquaintance from middle school had died unexpectedly. The idea of any 22-year-old losing his or her life is tragic, and this case was no exception, particularly because of the battle this person fought at the time that I was friends with him. It was heartbreaking, and though I hadn't talked to him in a very long time, I cried for him and for his family that evening.
Friday dawned, the last day of midterms. At this point, anyone who I didn't care for that happened to cross my path was likely to be snapped at, which was exactly the case on my way to my last class of the day. I just apologized about that today and then was rudely surprised when I realized I couldn't begin to explain to this person, who until recently had been a very special person in my life, what a toll that week had been on me. I couldn't even tell someone that I had once told my life story to that a friend had died. But wait! The week wasn't over yet!
In the afternoon, I got a call from my mother informing me that the scenic train, the biggest money-maker in our little town of Elkins, had been hit by a logging truck while carrying passengers. Last count was one fatality. By the time I went to DC with my English Honors Society to see a play, I was completely worn out and in desperate need of Fall Break.
That took place this past weekend. I had the house to myself from Thursday through Sunday because my mother took a group of coworkers to New York City, a trip I was supposed to have gone on if life hadn't derailed this semeseter. I ended up writing, catching up on homework, catching up with the same horseback-riding, best friend, and catching up on my dose of "scare the wits out of me" horror movies ('tis the season).
Sunday, I took the opportunity to explore a river in Barbour County that would be the setting of the close of my novella. The town is called Arden, and if anyone knows anything about the river that runs through that community, it's that the Tygart River has claimed far too many lives over the years. The danger had always intrigued me, hence the reason for using it in my novella, but I had never seen the wretched river with my own eyes. There was something eerie about the sign that said, "No parking within 10 feet of the river, next 3 miles," and the way the rocks protruded out of the deep pools of water... Anyone familiar with this place may have heard of "Party Rock," the place that I believe has been the site of the most fatalities. "When the river is up," my friend told me, "you can see the whirpools." The currents were deadly, and with a solid rock bottom and nothing but boulders to cling to, anyone caught in the rapids wouldn't stand a chance. There's something powerfully humbling about being in the presence of nature and realizing it's dangerous, realizing the fact that it can and has taken life away, that it was completely indiscriminate. After taking a few photos, we high-tailed it out of there, leaving the silent killer behind. (I say silent because the water was low, and it was extremely creepy to realize that this force of nature, as calm as it seemed, had been the cause of so many deaths.)
My return home did not unfold as I had expected it to- I was lucky enough to spend time with some close friends and the weather was pretty if not insufferably hot. My family and I abandoned our front row seats on Coronation Hill Friday afternoon for the trees at the edge of the hill in order to avoid medical emergencies, and there were plenty of those during the ceremony (a woman was taken from the bleacher seats on the hill to the awaiting ambulance via golf cart). The Fireman's Parade was as loud as ever. It's official- my head was pounding from the sirens ten firetrucks in. Thank goodness we live on the parade route and could retreat quickly. After a nearly sleepless night on the couch (due to the arrival of a "friend" that decided I didn't currently have enough drama in my life- a complete and total lie, by the way), I dragged myself to the jousting tourney, which apparently had been cancelled. Only the fences lining the route were present. So I traipsed back through the busy town by myself to accompany my sister as she shopped at the craft fairs. I had seriously considered getting up extremely early that Saturday morning and returning to school- I no longer had any desire to remain in my hometown as I realized that running from the chaos of life would accomplish nothing. The drama would follow me if I ran, as my friend illustrated with his arrival. If I had left, though, I wouldn't be able to relate the excitement of my fall horseback ride with one of my closest friends to you, and this story is one worth telling.
Sunday morning, my close friend and I clambered out of bed at 6:30 am to go horseback riding-- the only thing either of us would willingly get up that early for. We arrived at the barn by 7:30-8ish and proceeded to catch our lovely horses, warm them up with a few circuits each, and then saddled them up for the ride. We decided to switch saddles for the day (something we're prone to doing on occasion) as I'm considering buying her English saddle (something I desperately need more practivce with) and she wanted to ride in my Western one. After a few minor difficulties with attempting to mount our horses (I'm not one of those riders that can take a flying leap at a bareback horse and land magically in the right spot, so there was plenty of skittering around as well as saddle-sliding due to my pony's fat belly) we left the farm, a pack of dogs at our heels (our boarding lady has a lovely pack of dogs that run with us when we trail ride).
The day was beautifully clear, the leaves were gorgeous, and the horses were well-behaved. To understand the italics, suffice it to say that my friend and I have only had a small handful of rides that didn't involve one of us falling off, being thrown, or a horse getting panicked and/or injured. Even my ornery pony Kit was riding on a long rein with her head low, the perfect western pleasure exhibition. I brought along my relatively new Canon Rebel- it's third adventure on horseback (the first being in Costa Rica!!)- determined that I'd get some amazing pictures. Everything was splendid....
Until the dog pack flushed one of the biggest coyotes I've ever seen around our town. The coyote appeared soundlessly ahead of the horses on the road. It took my friend and I a few seconds before realizing that it wasn't one of our dogs. He loped off nonchalantly, and the pack pursued him. The horses seemed to take his appearance well.... it was the appearance of two ATVs from behind them that they didn't appreciate.
The drivers didn't slow down for the horses, which we had stopped hoping that the ATVs would go by slowly so we could keep them under control. Instead, they waited until they were level with us to slow down, and even then it was only because my friend and her horse ended up toppled over in the ditch at the edge of the road. I heard my friend scream as they went in, and I remember seeing them leaned into the ditch, against the rocky side as my own horse began to panic. At that point, all I could think was, "I can't ride English!! Sit straight, sit straight! Don't fall off!! Protect the camera!" Kit pounced all over the road, backing up, trying to turn left, where I could see my friend (whose horse was bucking and galloping down the road toward home at this point) holding her right elbow, and then turn right, facing the ATV riders who were frozen in horror, their engines still running. I took that opportunity to use some "perhaps" offensive language indicating that the drivers' presence was not at all appreciated. It was a wonder that Kit didn't think I was screaming the expletives at her, but she calmed down as soon as they gunned their engines and took off. I was able to dismount and get to my friend (who was banged up but okay for those wondering!). I retrieved her horse with the help of treats and we walked both horses back to the barn. Thankfully none, horses included, were seriously injured, and this was the scene as we left: our babies saying goodbye.
A perfect end to an interesting weekend. So I returned to school the next morning, driving through tornado warnings (something that doesn't happen often in West Virginia), just in time for midterm week. As a super-senior with a serious project (I'm writing two short stories, a novella, and an academic paper discussing my writing process) that my graduation relies upon, the idea of already being halfway through the semester is terrifying. So I went through this final midterm week spitting out papers, studying for exams, and reading countless reading assignments for my literature classes. Thursday evening, after the worst of my class work was already handed in, I was told that a close acquaintance from middle school had died unexpectedly. The idea of any 22-year-old losing his or her life is tragic, and this case was no exception, particularly because of the battle this person fought at the time that I was friends with him. It was heartbreaking, and though I hadn't talked to him in a very long time, I cried for him and for his family that evening.
Friday dawned, the last day of midterms. At this point, anyone who I didn't care for that happened to cross my path was likely to be snapped at, which was exactly the case on my way to my last class of the day. I just apologized about that today and then was rudely surprised when I realized I couldn't begin to explain to this person, who until recently had been a very special person in my life, what a toll that week had been on me. I couldn't even tell someone that I had once told my life story to that a friend had died. But wait! The week wasn't over yet!
In the afternoon, I got a call from my mother informing me that the scenic train, the biggest money-maker in our little town of Elkins, had been hit by a logging truck while carrying passengers. Last count was one fatality. By the time I went to DC with my English Honors Society to see a play, I was completely worn out and in desperate need of Fall Break.
That took place this past weekend. I had the house to myself from Thursday through Sunday because my mother took a group of coworkers to New York City, a trip I was supposed to have gone on if life hadn't derailed this semeseter. I ended up writing, catching up on homework, catching up with the same horseback-riding, best friend, and catching up on my dose of "scare the wits out of me" horror movies ('tis the season).
Sunday, I took the opportunity to explore a river in Barbour County that would be the setting of the close of my novella. The town is called Arden, and if anyone knows anything about the river that runs through that community, it's that the Tygart River has claimed far too many lives over the years. The danger had always intrigued me, hence the reason for using it in my novella, but I had never seen the wretched river with my own eyes. There was something eerie about the sign that said, "No parking within 10 feet of the river, next 3 miles," and the way the rocks protruded out of the deep pools of water... Anyone familiar with this place may have heard of "Party Rock," the place that I believe has been the site of the most fatalities. "When the river is up," my friend told me, "you can see the whirpools." The currents were deadly, and with a solid rock bottom and nothing but boulders to cling to, anyone caught in the rapids wouldn't stand a chance. There's something powerfully humbling about being in the presence of nature and realizing it's dangerous, realizing the fact that it can and has taken life away, that it was completely indiscriminate. After taking a few photos, we high-tailed it out of there, leaving the silent killer behind. (I say silent because the water was low, and it was extremely creepy to realize that this force of nature, as calm as it seemed, had been the cause of so many deaths.)
So now, I'm officially back from Fall Break, made it through midterms with flying A's :), and I'm more determined to fix the issues that have cropped up in my life as well as finish my novella. When I returned home this time, unlike when I arrived during the Festival, I decidedly was not running from my problems. I was taking a break from the drama, the chaos, and the schoolwork in order to analyze my priorities and set a few things straight. We'll see how that turns out as the second half of my final semester unfolds....
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Forest Festival Fever
It's Forest Festival time in Elkins, West Virginia (my hometown)!
After over a month of being away from Elkins, I'm returning home Thursday morning for my favorite time of the year. I've been told the trees in the mountains are changing, and I can't wait to see them again. For most Elkins residents, this week is the week when the town population swells to twice its normal size for everyone flocking to our mountain town to celebrate our surrounding forests. It's Mountain State Forest Festival time. A carnival comes to town, our queen is crowned and a ball is given for her ascension as the representative of the forest. Celebrations in the city park are thrown that entertain and inform guests that travel from all corners of the United States- even from many different parts of the world. Parades are marched, concerts are held, craft festivals ooze out of many buildings throughout the town, and people fill the streets for a solid three days.
Forest Festival time always was a big deal at our house. Before I turned twelve, we lived directly on the parade route and so everyone we knew from out of town would stay at our house during the big Festival Weekend. As a little girl, I remember endless amounts of food always on the table, regardless of the time of day. We even had people that thought we were serving an open house and came in with the intention of buying a meal. (They ate for free of course!) I also remember living in a house that, during that weekend, held almost every person I held most dear to my heart. As a child- as a human being- who could ask for more than that? Perhaps this is the reason that I love going home for the Fall.
This weekend is no exception. I'll be returning home Thursday morning, and the first thing I plan to do is change into my riding jeans and boots and take my lovely buckskin pony out for a ride. Doesn't she look like a fun one?
Saturday afternoon is the Grand Feature Parade, and one of my closest friends is marching with the AB College Battler Band- their first marching band ever! In the evening, the band show, where her band will be the honored guests, will take place.
Sunday morning will be another horseback ride for my friend and I-- we board our horses at the same barn, and her gelding and my mare seem to get along fairly well. Sunday is also when the closing ceremony for the Forest Festival will be held. All will begin to settle down once more.
I can't wait for this weekend. Writing this blog today has given me insight into one very important thing: even with as few career opportunities as there are in Elkins, I still love this town with all my heart. And why shouldn't I? It contains my family, my horse, my history... My Appalachian heart is beginning to peak through, isn't it? Perhaps this is why I love writing about my hometown, and the wonderful people of Appalachia (fictional and nonfictional). Perhaps, for the time being, returning to this place after graduation isn't a bad idea. Perhaps.
As a final note, quite a few of my friends on Facebook have been posting their Princess photos from Forest Festival as their profile picture- I'm not that drastic, but I will leave a picture of my year as the WV DNR Representative to Maid Sylvia's Court (yes, as a princess). :)
After over a month of being away from Elkins, I'm returning home Thursday morning for my favorite time of the year. I've been told the trees in the mountains are changing, and I can't wait to see them again. For most Elkins residents, this week is the week when the town population swells to twice its normal size for everyone flocking to our mountain town to celebrate our surrounding forests. It's Mountain State Forest Festival time. A carnival comes to town, our queen is crowned and a ball is given for her ascension as the representative of the forest. Celebrations in the city park are thrown that entertain and inform guests that travel from all corners of the United States- even from many different parts of the world. Parades are marched, concerts are held, craft festivals ooze out of many buildings throughout the town, and people fill the streets for a solid three days.
Forest Festival time always was a big deal at our house. Before I turned twelve, we lived directly on the parade route and so everyone we knew from out of town would stay at our house during the big Festival Weekend. As a little girl, I remember endless amounts of food always on the table, regardless of the time of day. We even had people that thought we were serving an open house and came in with the intention of buying a meal. (They ate for free of course!) I also remember living in a house that, during that weekend, held almost every person I held most dear to my heart. As a child- as a human being- who could ask for more than that? Perhaps this is the reason that I love going home for the Fall.
This weekend is no exception. I'll be returning home Thursday morning, and the first thing I plan to do is change into my riding jeans and boots and take my lovely buckskin pony out for a ride. Doesn't she look like a fun one?
Then, after a nice relaxing ride along the forested road, I'll get to see my family (my mother just returned today from her escapades in Europe with her coworkers) and visit the craft fairs all over town. Friday afternoon our Maid Sylvia will be crowned queen at her coronation on the Davis & Elkins campus.
After the coronation, my friends from high school will be arriving in town, a sight for sore eyes, no doubt, after the month I've had. That's when the real celebration will begin- there's no telling what we'll get into when enough of us find each other in the streets of Elkins during the annual Fireman's Parade- my favorite parade of the year. My great-uncle will be in his usual place aboard one of the Elkins Volunteer Fire Department trucks, standing proud.
Early Saturday morning, I may be able to catch the Knights of the South Branch Valley Riding Tournament (if horses are involved, you can bet I'll be there!). Watching those great animals run is always fun.
Saturday afternoon is the Grand Feature Parade, and one of my closest friends is marching with the AB College Battler Band- their first marching band ever! In the evening, the band show, where her band will be the honored guests, will take place.
Sunday morning will be another horseback ride for my friend and I-- we board our horses at the same barn, and her gelding and my mare seem to get along fairly well. Sunday is also when the closing ceremony for the Forest Festival will be held. All will begin to settle down once more.
I can't wait for this weekend. Writing this blog today has given me insight into one very important thing: even with as few career opportunities as there are in Elkins, I still love this town with all my heart. And why shouldn't I? It contains my family, my horse, my history... My Appalachian heart is beginning to peak through, isn't it? Perhaps this is why I love writing about my hometown, and the wonderful people of Appalachia (fictional and nonfictional). Perhaps, for the time being, returning to this place after graduation isn't a bad idea. Perhaps.
As a final note, quite a few of my friends on Facebook have been posting their Princess photos from Forest Festival as their profile picture- I'm not that drastic, but I will leave a picture of my year as the WV DNR Representative to Maid Sylvia's Court (yes, as a princess). :)
Saturday, September 28, 2013
One Month Later
I'm officially one month into this final semester and it is the farthest thing from what I expected this last semester to be. I've had so many things change in the last month that I believe myself to be quite thoroughly disoriented and disillusioned. As I said the other day to a friend, "The one thing that will never change during this semester is the amount of homework I have to complete. Everything else is subject to scerw up my life." I'm not really complaining about the amount of academic reading and writing I've been doing this semester- it definitely keeps my mind temporarily distracted from the bigger, more depressing issues that I've been dealing with this last month. It's just that throwing myself into my studies is not enough to keep my mind off of those other things I wish I could permanently delete from my mind. More outlets are needed- and those seem to be disappearing rather than presenting themselves as we move farther into the fall season (a season of change, ironically).
So tonight I'm flooding this post with inspirational pictures that I hope to be able to look back on whenever I'm in as bad of a spot as I am right now. Hopefully this will give anyone who stumbles upon my blog during a bad day a few rays of sunshine:
When you're having a bad day, a bad week, or a bad month, remember these important things:
1. Bad things happen. Usually the event, as bad as it may be, is a fraction of the pain inflicted upon us by our own minds.
So tonight I'm flooding this post with inspirational pictures that I hope to be able to look back on whenever I'm in as bad of a spot as I am right now. Hopefully this will give anyone who stumbles upon my blog during a bad day a few rays of sunshine:
When you're having a bad day, a bad week, or a bad month, remember these important things:
1. Bad things happen. Usually the event, as bad as it may be, is a fraction of the pain inflicted upon us by our own minds.
2. If you're dealing with someone walking out of your life or your decision to let someone go, you may feel lost and the phrase, "I don't know what to do now," may flash through your mind frequently. This is what you have to remember:
3. If you're experiencing a turbulent time in your life, lack of control may make you feel like giving up. Don't.
4. If your life is rapidly changing you may be getting a chance to try something new in life. Don't let it pass you by because you're afraid of the unknown.
5. Don't plan your life according to someone else's dreams unless you know that being with them is part of your dream. Stay focused on what you want to get out of life.
6. Don't wait around for life to hand you the American Dream. It doesn't work that way.
And, finally, if the day is too much for you to handle, set an alarm, crawl into bed, cry it out and then gain the temporary escape by sleeping. You'd be amazed how much a good cry and sleep can help you- it won't solve your problems, but it can give you a place to rest in a crazy world.
So here's to better days ahead, a future for each of us, and, if we choose it, a love worth our valuable time. I can promise that in the days ahead, as I try to find more outlets for my frustration and anxieties this semester, I will be looking back on this blog to remind myself that my bad times are only temporary, and that I'm the only one that can make myself feel better.
*All of these pictures were pulled from the Facebook page Lessons Learned In Life. It's a great page if you want some inspiration each day- it's definitely helped me out a lot recently. :)
Friday, September 20, 2013
Pick a State, Any State
I've been watching Craigslist like a hawk for over a year now, attempting to find the perfect place to live after college. As it turns out, trying to find a place that a single college graduate can afford on her own and that actually allows cats is next to impossible. I mean, I understand the risk of having someone's animals tear up your place, but seriously! Look at this beautiful girl!
She hasn't torn up a single piece of furniture since I brought her home as a kitten-- she's only chewed through two cords in her year and a half of life (and both belonged to my mother- her computer mouse cord, and her cell phone charger). Honestly, everyone who gets the chance to meet her loves her.
But seriously, I've been putting a lot of thought into where I want to be after this December and the usual list has formed in my mind: the hometown, the college town, near the college town, Costa Rica (long story), the other side of the freaking country (another long story). The unfortunate truth is that I will probably end up in whichever town provides me with a job. Student loans are just around the corner, and life would be easier to figure out if I had roommate-- one that wasn't a cat and could help with rent payments.
Trying to figure out where I want to be and what I want to do is an ongoing thing, and I'm beginning to realize that it may take more than just a few months to figure out. Heck, it takes some people years to figure out what they want to do in life. I know that whatever I choose, it will involve the animals I grew up loving, the fiction I've been writing since I was in the fourth grade, and the horses that are my life. Without these, I know that I won't be happy, and as much as money matters in this stupid society of ours, I know that I need to do what it takes to be happy. I just hope that if it means moving away from home, I have the courage to do it. For now, I've decided to just stick to working as hard as I can on my classes and the Appalachian novella I have to finish by December. And getting my Jeep fixed. But that's a whole different list of issues.
She hasn't torn up a single piece of furniture since I brought her home as a kitten-- she's only chewed through two cords in her year and a half of life (and both belonged to my mother- her computer mouse cord, and her cell phone charger). Honestly, everyone who gets the chance to meet her loves her.
But seriously, I've been putting a lot of thought into where I want to be after this December and the usual list has formed in my mind: the hometown, the college town, near the college town, Costa Rica (long story), the other side of the freaking country (another long story). The unfortunate truth is that I will probably end up in whichever town provides me with a job. Student loans are just around the corner, and life would be easier to figure out if I had roommate-- one that wasn't a cat and could help with rent payments.
Trying to figure out where I want to be and what I want to do is an ongoing thing, and I'm beginning to realize that it may take more than just a few months to figure out. Heck, it takes some people years to figure out what they want to do in life. I know that whatever I choose, it will involve the animals I grew up loving, the fiction I've been writing since I was in the fourth grade, and the horses that are my life. Without these, I know that I won't be happy, and as much as money matters in this stupid society of ours, I know that I need to do what it takes to be happy. I just hope that if it means moving away from home, I have the courage to do it. For now, I've decided to just stick to working as hard as I can on my classes and the Appalachian novella I have to finish by December. And getting my Jeep fixed. But that's a whole different list of issues.
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