This weekend I’m lucky enough to have a chance to get away for a retreat with a group I work with. It’s about 4 hours away from school in southern New York state. We’re driving up there as I type this. I love the people I’m going with and I’m crazy excited for the seminars, bonding, and general break from campus, but I feel strangely homesick.
It’s been over two years since I moved away but being away hasn’t gotten much easier. I miss my family and my dog and the insane number of little kids that live in our neighborhood. I miss the sharp cling of a softball off a metal bat and the faint small of cinnamon swirl bread from the nearby bakery.
I wouldn’t give my time at school and in Florida for the world, but nevertheless I can hardly wait until I can next go home.
“I think, in his heart, Frodo’s still in love with the Shire: the woods, the fields… little rivers.”
There’s this club on my campus and our big thing is every Wednesday we sell homemade soup and grilled cheeses for lunch at our campus sustainability center.Because of that on Tuesdays, when we meet, we make two large vats of homemade, organic, vegan soup.
One of today’s soups involves cabbage so in an effort to be helpful (and also be eligible to receive free soup today) I chopped the cabbage. Except I don’t know how to chop a cabbage. My friend, who for the sake of not having his name all over the internet will be referred to as Chem Boy, took this as personally because apparently we should all just pop out of the womb as perfect cabbage choppers. Ya know what, Chem Boy?? I AM A TOTALLY INCOMPETENT HUMAN AT TIMES.
Really, it was all in good fun, and tbh kinda hilarious to see how pained he was by my lack of cabbage chopping abilities. So as an act of revenge I took one of the gross outermost leaves that I had peeled off and put it on his head while he wasn’t looking. Cabbage hat kid!! HA. WHO’S THE FOOL NOW, CHEM BOY?? Answer- YOU. BECAUSE CABBAGE ISN’T A HAT. HA.Of course, a moment later he notices, but this is where it gets good.He had no idea I put it there.He thinks it’s from our other friend, Jumpy*, who just so happens to be standing behind him, so he tears the cabbage off his head, whips around, and slaps jumpy across the face with the limp cabbage leaf.
I get headaches. Sometimes pretty bad, to the point that bright lights hurt a lot. Particularly florescent lights
Now, I live in a house, but it is very much run/managed like a dorm. And what do dorms have?
You guessed it folks, fluorescent lights.
So in order to escape the oppressively harsh white light coming from my ceiling, I have taken a tapestry and pinned it up so my light is covered.It makes the room a bit darker and shields me from the glow. I love it.
MothMan also loves it…just for a completely different reason. An “I’m a kitten and like to claw at hanging things” reason.
So the other night, the little butthead gets on top of my dresser, paws at it, and takes down a corner despite my pleading with him to stop.
Now I have a cat atop a dresser, a tapestry with one open corner, the other three otherwise attached still.Basically, there’s a strange sort of hammock now fixed to the ceiling. Not wanting to deal with it, I just called him an asshole and threw my head back into the pillows dramatically, because if he’s gonna be extra, I’m gonna be extra. A few minutes pass and notice MothMan is still on my dresser and is VERY interested in the space he created. I personally wanted to see where he was going with whatever idea his little kitten brain came up with, so I just sat quietly and watched.Then, like world’s fuzziest Jessica Jones cosplayer, he launches himself inside the tapestry.
Now, this tapestry? It’s held up by push pins. Four of them to be exact (more now), but at the time there was just one on each corner. So I sat there watching as he flung himself, ripped the tapestry off the ceiling, and crashed to earth like a strong kitty meteorite.
But don’t worry, he’s fine. The little poop-head cat meteor landed ON MY BED. He’s a lucky lil shit.
Here we are. Sunday. Specifically, for me, the first Sunday of the year where I have classes the following day. The first Sunday of the nameless, faceless, anxiety for the week ahead. I fricken hate Sundays.It’s like, yay! it’s still the weekend, but there over the shoulder, it lurks- The Work Week.
Now, everybody’s anxiety manifests in different ways.For me, on Sundays, it manifests like a caffeine pill swallowed with red bull. I get shakey, lose focus, and can’t stop moving.It’s different from my normal anxiety, which allows me to curl up under my weighted blanket, and just sorta sit there crashing inside myself.Sunday anxiety demands I move.It demands action.But here’s the thing— only academic action? Like, I can clean or blog or knit or something but it doesn’t go away.My brain demands I work on my class work. Even if there’s nothing to do?? Pretty fucked up, right??
And it’s not even just college that has done this to me.Sundays have been my worst night as long as I can remember. These are the nights the paced lines are etched deeper into kitchen and dorm room floors and art is forsaken because when you can’t hold your hand still there’s no way you can draw a line.
But here’s the good thing- Its Sunday anxiety for a reason.It happens once a week, and you always know when.You may be thinking “ugh, yeah, something to look forward to,” but that’s wrong. It’s something to prepare for.It is something your friends or partner or parents can come to expect and, if they able, help you with.And, maybe, with every Sunday, it can be dealt with a little bit better, and before you know it, you’re a little bit better too.
“But Rowyn?” You may ask, “I thought you lived in Chicago!”
I am from Chicago. I was born there, and am proud to call it home but I, unfortunately, do not live there. Not right now, anyway. Right now I live at school, and school is in Pennsylvania. Currently, I am working towards my degree in Animal Behavior so I can try and figure out why The Cryptid thinks its okay to hogtie himself with my new ball of yarn that I was planning to make a hat with on the drive back to school.Or why he’s the only cat I know that doesn’t like boxes.
Okay not really.What I’m really learning is how and why animals behave the way they do.But even more than that I’m learning how to be a scientist- how to look at things critically, ask the right questions, determine what is or isn’t true, how to get down off the top of my dresser without hurting myself.
Maybe not the last one, but its something I’m currently learning seeing as I am writing this from the top of my dresser, which is taller than I am, that I had to climb up to re-tack a thumbtack holding up a corner of the tapestry covering the light in my room because someone (*cough**cough* MothMan) thought it would be fun to tear it down.And now I’m realizing that its pretty impossible to get down the way I got up and I can’t text any of my house mates to bring a chair or anything because my keys aren’t in the door because I actually put them on their hook for once.
I am totally gonna die up here.
P.s. I jumped off. It was scary and my feet hurt when I landed.
And when it is Cold, things freeze. Things that freeze include dog poop. Have you ever tried to scoop frozen dog poop?
Its hard, in both the texture and scoopability (a word my computer keeps trying to change) because it doesn’t just freeze to itself,, nooo that would be too easy.It has to freeze to the grass, the other nuggets, and the snow itself. Because that’s what happens when its been so cold that reaching an air temperature of 15 that feels like 5 with wind chill is noticeably warm.
So I decided to do some yard work, which in the winter translates poop scooping.
Not easy, folks.
The dog seems to enjoy it though, but MothMan….not so much.
Plus he has his first ever trip to the vet today so he gets to venture out into the cold and will most likely not be happy.
So here we are, December 21, 2017, and we do not yet have a Christmas tree. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem but seeing as there’s apparently some kind of Christmas tree shortage this year we haven’t been able to find one. Seeing as my mother was freaking out like this is the end of the world and Christmas is ruined (spoiler: it’s not) I was sent out today to go find one (more appropriately, I couldn’t handle my mother’s constant fretting about how this holiday will be shit, so I sent myself out). Long story short I driver for literally an hour and a half looking for Christmas trees and finally found one and put it up with my sister.
Only, of course, for my mother to come home and say it was the ugliest Christmas tree we’ve ever had and that she wanted to cry. And thus the pattern of me being the most disappointing child continues.
Happy Holidays everybody, this is why I moved away.