Sonnet: Kuru, my freedom, my joy.

It was the year of two thousand and one
and President Bush inaugurated.
I had not wheels to place under my bum
leaving me trapped, quite sad and frustrated.

"I must find a way to get where I need;
for food and classes and friends far away.
A car I must have!"And did I succeed?
Kuru, red Focus, dream car still today.

Through winters and springs, fair trips to the sea,
My car, my love,together we frolicked.
Though dented and scratched up she still pleased me,
But I sold her today. I should be kicked!

Now to a land where they drive on the left,
but I'll think of Kuru each day 'til death.

Say it ain't so...


There is such a sense of euphoria that comes over me when driving on the highway, windows down, belting love ballads at full volume. Johnny Lang's 'Breakin' Me" or Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me..." at full blast send shivers down my spine. I am so very sad to let go of my car... They say you can't put a price on sentimental value. I wish this wasn't so. I would have a lot more money coming in for my little darling Kuru than the $4700 I will agree to sell her for. I have been debating as to whether I should bring with me a list of questions for prospective buyer of my car...

1. Have you ever been in an accident before? Was it your fault? Are YOU A BAD DRIVER?

2. Will you be subjecting my car to any unneeded embarrassment, ie, painting it with puppy dogs for a doggie day care service?

3. Do you have children? If so, will they be allowed in this car? With sticky hands?

3. Will you solemnly swear to uphold the integrity of this vehicle by providing proper oil changes and services?

If so, by the power vested in me, the owner... etc.

(I think there will be music when I actually sign over the title, but not sure what tune yet. Suggestions?)

She is in her 'sunday best' today... meeting with my first prospective buyer in 35 minutes.

"They built their homes on sand and called the slip and slide adventure." Julia Alvarez

I very clearly remember a conversation I had three years ago on the rocks of a beach in Rye with a very amazing person. I was asked what I feared most in the world, and my answer came out before I had time to question it's truth. "Being normal." It seems easier for me to know what I don't want,rather than what I do. Why New Zealand? Why not? A few years later, I'll modify the verb from 'being' to 'living' normally. I am terrified of settling down. Constant movement is the only way to avoid this. I don't think I am running from anything or anyone. I think I just am afraid that if I stay in one place I will not be able to run away, and the thought of that makes me want to strap roller skates to my feet as added precaution. I wonder if they make roller sneakers in adult sizes?

"...And I will live with empty pockets, and I will live with empty sleeves, and I will know that there is nothing in this world I cannot leave. I will tell my friends I love them and I will just hope that they know that I need nobody beside me on this open road..."


Anyway, this was a great weekend. Saw the Peanut Man at the Cantab friday night, went to a neighborhood block party in Cambridge on Saturday,
Dave and Meg

followed by dinner at Piatinni with the very sexy and fabulous Shana Fox and Kristi Day



and celebrated Emily's last weekend afterwards dancing in fanuiel hall. Sunday Laura and Andy hosted a garden party, with fabulous food and mojitos.

Milford Sound, summer home.

Very exciting news. I got a job! I will be making my way down to Milford Sound by October to work at a restaurant/cafe called the Blue Duck, or the Milford lodge. Milford is in the fiordland of south western New Zealand, "a series of rugged ranges and valleys, green with beech trees and brimming with waterfalls that spill into the sea." The fiordland is NZ's largest national park and also the least touristed destination. Plenty of hiking and kayaking and things of the sort. There is even mention of penguins!

(flashback to this year's summer party at the aquarium. Adrienne and I were spellbound by those sleepy little penguin creatures... then drunkenly proceeded to crawl up the ramp on hands and knees past the security guard. We saw a pretty damn large turtle. Highlight of the night.)

http://www.fiordland.org.nz/Explore-Fiordland/Milford-Sound/Default.asp

Wet flakes.


Friday afternoon, as I was packed and pumped to spend a few days hiking and slumbering in the Pemigewasset wilderness, I decided last minute, to check the weather forecast. Now, if I was my roommate Melissa, this would have been done hourly for several days prior to our Friday departure, but unfortunately I am not Melissa. I saw sunshine outside, and so assumed there would be sunshine up north, and all across the world. I am sure you can see where this is heading. The forecast called for showers,rain, and thunderstorms (all variations of REALLY WET).

But of course the weather report is often wrong. I took a class in college aptly named "Weather", and though I still have no idea how cold fronts work or what El Nino is... I did take away the very important knowledge that you really can't forecast the weather. They are guessing. Every time.

We drove north and stayed in Chico's friend's brand new beautiful cabin. Saturday we woke up bright and early, ready to attack the 7 miles into where we would be sleeping, come rain or snow. As we were getting in the truck I realized, oops! I had forgotten my hiking boots in the trunk of my car three hours away. No worries though, I am a go-with-the-flow kind of girl. I had my spiffy new keen's, the trail was relativley flat and my ankles are relitively sturdy. Minor setback.

We got to the trail as the sky continued to darken. A mile in and it felt like eight at night, not ten in the morning. I tried praying to the heavens, but it seems someone was pleading more urgently for a downpour. It came. And kept coming. At franconia falls, about 3.5 miles in, I wimpily informed Chico that I would not be sleeping in the rain. My feet were wet. I was cold. And the thought of setting up camp in a puddle did not sound as appealing as another night in a dry cozy cabin with great a fireplace , good book and wine. We hiked out.

A few hours later we had built a great bonfire in the cabin's backyard. We were under the stars (in a brief intermission between storms) I had eaten my third s'more, I was kicking butt in my firemaking abilities, I was half way through "Mutant Message Down Under" (amazing book! read it read it), listening to "the Notch" radio station on surround sound (which by the way is one of the best station's I have ever heard. Rumor is some rich dude moved up north and started this radio station with just the music he had always wanted to be played without annoying commercials every 2 seconds). It was perfect.

So moral of the story is, I am a flake. I know many of you know this about me already when I have conversations like:

me- "I lost my wallet!"
friend- "I am not surprised."


But,being a flake isn't so bad. There are certainly worse things to be. So, I think it is time for me to accept this about myself.I CHOOSE TO EMBRACE MY FLAKINESS.

2:49 am

This was the time I wiped my nose of snot and blotted my eyes of tears and got up to shut off the light. Oh, the addiciton that is a good book! If you haven't read it yet, shame on you. The Kite Runner is everything people say, beautiful, heart breaking and impossible to put down.

It has been a good and somewhat productive week for myself. Managed to see loads of family and friends, pack a bit, read two books, (other being the catcher in the rye... absurd that I have lived through 24 yrs as an english major and active reader without having read it...) buy new zealand gear (yay new pack and blue KEEN shoes!),lay on the beach, drink coffee with long lost UNH italy alum in Portsmouth, change my oil, get my car inspected, order a car mirror and make an appointment to have it installed, apply for a job and get ready to spend a few days in the woods.

Amazing what you can accomplish when you don't have that little thing called a "job" taking up all of your time.

Unfortunately, the anxiety of watching your bank account slip down to just over $100 is somewhat sobering... By the way, anyone want to purchase my fine little red vehicle? Contact me for details...

Packing...

Inevitably you will find items that make you cry. Maybe sob. Letters. Emails. Post cards. Journals. Bottles. Armbands. Chapstick. Stones. Rubber balls. Receipts. Sea shells.

This is the proof of your existence. This is the stuff of love and friendship. This is the ghost of you. This is the memory of laughter.

Wow. My first blog. This is exhilerating.

What better way to spend my last lonely day at my job than this? I am running out of ways to keep myself amused in-office. My weeks post- Costa Rica have been certifiably useless in the name of sales. But who cares! I am done! I have sucessfully and dare I say, gracefully, exited my first real job experience. A good experience overall... if for the mere reason that I now know what I had always presumed, that I hate office jobs.
So a month from today I will be leaving to go to San Diego for a day or two before boarding a plane to the lush green hills of New Zealand. This date is no longer distant. And about time. I have been stewing over an escape like this for over a year now. All I can wonder is, why did I wait so long?

My beautiful friend Leigh is coming to Boston tonight! I am looking forward to a few days being giggly and fabulous with her- reminicing about our childhood pillow brawls (kids, do try this at home. Each of you get one normal sized pillow and pillow case. With fluffy side on your face, wiggle raised arms (bent at elbows) until you are completely inside the pillow. At agreed upon start time begin whacking the hell out of eachother. I guarentee you will be more paralyzed by laughter than by blows to the body), as well as our more mischevoius encounters with highly attractive artist tico boys under full moons in Costa Rica.

leigh and margaritas-samara, costa rica

Anyway, these are a few things that have kept me amused recently.

Today only! call 1800-665-5364 and listen to EF's customer service make asses of themselves as they f up the "we are out of the office" message. Ha. Good chuckle.

bigger and better inspiration:http://www.goingpostal3000.com/05-07/one-red-paperclip.html

www.couchsurfing.com

And now, out to lunch with fellow quitter Emily, moving to Chicago to work for the competition. good luck Em!

Karen