After spending the entirety of yesterday studying, I've decided to spend today rearranging my furniture. If anyone hears a loud THUD followed by muffled cries for help, for the love of God call an ambulance.
~SarahFish~
Under a Sky of Azure
Posted by
Sarah Fish
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There's a special place in my heart for New Mexico.
Maybe it has something to do with the number of vacations spent there as a kid, roaming over Pueblo and Hopi ruins, hiking, and staring at red-rock studded landscapes better suited to Mars than our pale blue dot of a planet.
Or maybe it's because of the month I spent at Ghost Ranch back in '04 during an introspective psychology class. Between all the navel-gazing sessions, my soon-to-be best friend Kat and I roamed all over Santa Fe and areas to the North. We participated in an anti-war rally outside the Palace of the Governors. Inadvertently took the back road to El Santuario de Chimayo, turning a 30 minute trip into an all-day, switchback-hugging, mountain circling affair. Ignored "Closed Due To Weather" signs, and scrambled 140 feet up ice-slick wooden ladders to the Alcove House at Bandelier. Drove all the way to Albuquerque in search of a dance club that would let us in at 18. Overall, it was a coming of age tale that could give "Stand By Me" a run for its money.
I haven't been back since.
Sure, there's been talk of going back. Half-assed attempts to plan vacations. Every few months I'll have a "You know, if I started driving right now, I could be in Santa Fe by morning," moment. But responsibility creeps in, and I decide to forgo my fugue. Maybe next year.
During my weekend away from technology, I spent a lot of time thinking about work. Exactly what you want to do on your weekend, I know. But I thought a lot about my job. About what I really want to do. And not just what I want to do career-wise, but what I want to do with life. Trying to figure out just how in the hell I go about doing those things. Out of nowhere, I had one of those rare crystal ball moments where everything shifts into perfect focus, and I saw my answer.
I'm moving to Santa Fe.
Not now, of course. But I do have a date picked out. June 2012. Even now, typing it out, I get jittery. Nerves. Anticipation. Don't get me wrong - there's a method to the madness. A plan, vague though it is right now. Santa Fe isn't actually the ultimate goal. It's what I want to do there. But more on that in the future.
Posting this entry scares the shit out of me. I've mentioned before how I'm terrified of coming up with goals and letting other folks know about 'em. Because if you don't finish whatever it is you set out to do, everyone knows about it. In fact, it almost makes me feel doomed to fail by tossing this out into the universe. As though people knowing about my goal ensures that I won't meet it. Well fuck that noise. Here's something that I really want to do. Something so big, so ambitious that it frightens me. Hell, I'm even going to put a date on this puppy. Monday, 11 June, 2012 I'll be posting from Santa Fe. Watch me.
Maybe it has something to do with the number of vacations spent there as a kid, roaming over Pueblo and Hopi ruins, hiking, and staring at red-rock studded landscapes better suited to Mars than our pale blue dot of a planet.
Or maybe it's because of the month I spent at Ghost Ranch back in '04 during an introspective psychology class. Between all the navel-gazing sessions, my soon-to-be best friend Kat and I roamed all over Santa Fe and areas to the North. We participated in an anti-war rally outside the Palace of the Governors. Inadvertently took the back road to El Santuario de Chimayo, turning a 30 minute trip into an all-day, switchback-hugging, mountain circling affair. Ignored "Closed Due To Weather" signs, and scrambled 140 feet up ice-slick wooden ladders to the Alcove House at Bandelier. Drove all the way to Albuquerque in search of a dance club that would let us in at 18. Overall, it was a coming of age tale that could give "Stand By Me" a run for its money.
I haven't been back since.
Sure, there's been talk of going back. Half-assed attempts to plan vacations. Every few months I'll have a "You know, if I started driving right now, I could be in Santa Fe by morning," moment. But responsibility creeps in, and I decide to forgo my fugue. Maybe next year.
During my weekend away from technology, I spent a lot of time thinking about work. Exactly what you want to do on your weekend, I know. But I thought a lot about my job. About what I really want to do. And not just what I want to do career-wise, but what I want to do with life. Trying to figure out just how in the hell I go about doing those things. Out of nowhere, I had one of those rare crystal ball moments where everything shifts into perfect focus, and I saw my answer.
I'm moving to Santa Fe.
Not now, of course. But I do have a date picked out. June 2012. Even now, typing it out, I get jittery. Nerves. Anticipation. Don't get me wrong - there's a method to the madness. A plan, vague though it is right now. Santa Fe isn't actually the ultimate goal. It's what I want to do there. But more on that in the future.
Posting this entry scares the shit out of me. I've mentioned before how I'm terrified of coming up with goals and letting other folks know about 'em. Because if you don't finish whatever it is you set out to do, everyone knows about it. In fact, it almost makes me feel doomed to fail by tossing this out into the universe. As though people knowing about my goal ensures that I won't meet it. Well fuck that noise. Here's something that I really want to do. Something so big, so ambitious that it frightens me. Hell, I'm even going to put a date on this puppy. Monday, 11 June, 2012 I'll be posting from Santa Fe. Watch me.
"Am I willing to give up what I have in order to be what I am not yet? Am I able to follow the spirit of love into the desert? It is a frightening and sacred moment. There is no return. One's life is charged forever. It is the fire that gives us our shape."
- Mary Richards
Shades of Bierce
Posted by
Sarah Fish
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I've always been interested in unexplained disappearances. History is fairly littered with folks that just wandered off the edge of the map and popped out of existence.
There's the hoaxes/folktales about David Lang and Oliver Larch that have become ingrained in many peoples' minds as true events. This probably has as much as anything to do with their inclusion in almost every "Strange But True!" type anthology I've run across.
Lang is the more famous of the two - a farmer from Gallatin, Tennessee who vanished into thin air on a sunny September day in 1880 in front of everyone and his brother-in-law . Literally. Alleged witnesses included Lang's wife, his two kids, a judge, and the judge's brother in-law. One minute he was there, the next. . .gone. Variations on the story include the family hearing him yelling for help from the spot where he vanished years after the fact, the grass never growing right again, animals avoiding the spot, and other assorted weird shit.
Oliver Larch, while not as famous as his farming counterpart, vanished in a way more unsettling way. In the most common version, Larch was 11 when he walked out the door of his home one snowy night to get water from the well. [You can already tell - this isn't going to end nicely.] Minutes later, his family ran outside after hearing him start to shriek. But Oliver was nowhere to be found. Although they could still hear him screaming, his footprints in the fresh snow ended after 30 feet. Then comes the perfect horror movie moment when his family realizes that his shouts are coming from above them. Cries of, "Help! They've got me, they've got me!" which grew fainter with each passing second until at last the only sound was the rustle of snow falling on the pines and the nervous shuffling of his family.
The funny thing about these two is that both stories were adapted from short works by Ambrose Bierce. The Difficulties of Crossing a Field and Charles on Ashmore's Trail respectively. In 1913, Bierce himself vanished without a trace during a trip through Mexico, where he had accompanied Pancho Villa's army as an observer. Off the map, out of existence.
Which really is a damn shame, since the man was a goldmine of wit. One of my favorite quotes from him related directly to my mood today. "Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret."
This nasty, nagging aggitation has been lurking in the back of my head all day long. I started and deleted several posts discussing it. Even now, I'm tempted to just say, "fuck it all," and delete this one too. But no, I'm trying to be honest with myself. Making a point to talk about the good and the bad. Let's face it - sometimes life sucks. Sometimes, like today, life sucks for no reason whatsoever. The sun is shining, the weather is warm, and life is beautiful. But all I want to do is kick over a sandcastle or two.
So I figure I'll take a page from Bierce's book and go off-map this weekend. Shut down the computer, unplug the cable - TV and Internet, put the cellphone on silent, and take a little vacation from technology. I may not be able to vanish into thin air like Mr. Lang, but I sure can vanish from the virtual world for a couple days. Take a break and let my brain reboot.
Hell, maybe I'll read some "Strange But True!" paperbacks while I'm at it.
Off-grid until Friday,
~SarahFish~
There's the hoaxes/folktales about David Lang and Oliver Larch that have become ingrained in many peoples' minds as true events. This probably has as much as anything to do with their inclusion in almost every "Strange But True!" type anthology I've run across.
Lang is the more famous of the two - a farmer from Gallatin, Tennessee who vanished into thin air on a sunny September day in 1880 in front of everyone and his brother-in-law . Literally. Alleged witnesses included Lang's wife, his two kids, a judge, and the judge's brother in-law. One minute he was there, the next. . .gone. Variations on the story include the family hearing him yelling for help from the spot where he vanished years after the fact, the grass never growing right again, animals avoiding the spot, and other assorted weird shit.
Oliver Larch, while not as famous as his farming counterpart, vanished in a way more unsettling way. In the most common version, Larch was 11 when he walked out the door of his home one snowy night to get water from the well. [You can already tell - this isn't going to end nicely.] Minutes later, his family ran outside after hearing him start to shriek. But Oliver was nowhere to be found. Although they could still hear him screaming, his footprints in the fresh snow ended after 30 feet. Then comes the perfect horror movie moment when his family realizes that his shouts are coming from above them. Cries of, "Help! They've got me, they've got me!" which grew fainter with each passing second until at last the only sound was the rustle of snow falling on the pines and the nervous shuffling of his family.
The funny thing about these two is that both stories were adapted from short works by Ambrose Bierce. The Difficulties of Crossing a Field and Charles on Ashmore's Trail respectively. In 1913, Bierce himself vanished without a trace during a trip through Mexico, where he had accompanied Pancho Villa's army as an observer. Off the map, out of existence.
Which really is a damn shame, since the man was a goldmine of wit. One of my favorite quotes from him related directly to my mood today. "Speak when you are angry and you will make the best speech you will ever regret."
This nasty, nagging aggitation has been lurking in the back of my head all day long. I started and deleted several posts discussing it. Even now, I'm tempted to just say, "fuck it all," and delete this one too. But no, I'm trying to be honest with myself. Making a point to talk about the good and the bad. Let's face it - sometimes life sucks. Sometimes, like today, life sucks for no reason whatsoever. The sun is shining, the weather is warm, and life is beautiful. But all I want to do is kick over a sandcastle or two.
So I figure I'll take a page from Bierce's book and go off-map this weekend. Shut down the computer, unplug the cable - TV and Internet, put the cellphone on silent, and take a little vacation from technology. I may not be able to vanish into thin air like Mr. Lang, but I sure can vanish from the virtual world for a couple days. Take a break and let my brain reboot.
Hell, maybe I'll read some "Strange But True!" paperbacks while I'm at it.
Off-grid until Friday,
~SarahFish~
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