400th Diary Entry

Today, marks my 400th diary entry. I truly cannot fathom that for the last two years I have made an avid attempt to document the simplest parts of my life. My inner thoughts, daily happenings, and the ups and downs of a young girl becoming an old woman. I have been through much. And yet, so little has changed. I have grown, yet stayed the same. I am more of a person than I was, built on experiences of a rural Alaskan lifestyle. I've changed philosophies, enlightened myself on the hardships of adulthood, and partook in a collection of ordinary days- that when put together have made quite an extraordinary story. The winds aren't changing yet, but my style of writing is. I'm not sure if I'm growing up, or just growing older. But whatever it is, whatever my story is going to tell, I want to continue to document it. I am 21 now. I have become accustomed to the ways of no running water, wood chopping, and snowey springs. It's beautiful, and now ordinary. I'm still lost in it's beauty- but not in a way of intrigue, rather in a way of comfort. I suppose in a way it's slowed my writing. I don't document as much as I used to, merely because I don't find things as exciting as I used to. I have delved more deeply into my mind than I should have (hence my recent drowning in self pity). I hope to pull myself out of it soon. I want to become inspired again. And the only thing that can provoke such emotion is the presence of nature. A presence I can only find if I choose to. And at this moment I am choosing to.

Falling Down and Apart

Lately I've been falling apart. I don't know if I could define an emotional breakdown, but I'm getting very close. On the scale of one to a hundred, I'm at a ninety. Tears have blackened my cheeks for the past four days straight and there's no end in sight. Even the sky was gray today- like even the sunshine knew to stay away. My mindful downfalls have left me covered in heartache. I can't explain what's causing it, but my life just feels like it's falling apart.

Find The Gypsy In Me

I've never had trouble saying goodbye. It's always come easy. Breaking hearts, leaving, heading off on an unannounced adventure. I'm good at that. I usually leave without notice or without warning. I don't alert people of my departure. I just disappear. It's a talent I have, I suppose. I've always been very very good at running away. It's a habit I'd love to break, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to part with old ways. I love parting with things, but I can't part with the part of me that loves to explore. I think that's why, prior to changing my name to A Wondering Dawn, I was the Lone Alaskan Gypsy. I had a gypsy soul. A runaway spirit. And she's coming back to me full force now. Goodbyes have always been easy, but this time I think they're going to be very very hard.

Earning Trust Again

Coho's lost all trust of me. I don't blame her. And now I'm on the slow recovery of letting her love me again. To be honest, I'll need time to heal too. My heart is a little broken, and her trust is a little gone. But time heals all and love is a remarkable thing. I have faith that here in a few weeks we will be back to our playful, adoring selves. It's hard right now though. The aftermath of an unexpected storm. I have some peices to pick up and some things to put back together. But somehow those things seem to fix themselves over time. I'm not worried, just impatient. Things have changed now, and I'm really wishing we could just go back to the way we were.

Freedom vs Love

Coho's grown her own mind. She's an adult dog now, she doesn't need me anymore. And she showed me that today when she escaped from her harness and ran away. I called for her three different times when I caught sight of her. She didn't come once. She was so happy to be free that she completely ignored me. I let her run on her own every day. I feed her, love her, spend thousands of dollars on the very best for her. And today she said she didn't need it anymore. I spent all day crying, running around the village trying to bring her home. I finally watched her go around a corner, snuck the other way, and captured her. She faught the entire way back to my cabin. I wasn't hurting her- I had her picked up nicely, but it didn't matter. She didn't love me anymore. When I got inside I was so frustrated I picked her up by the skin on the back of her neck and threw her down. Then I knelt beside her and pushed her as hard as I could. Immidiately she rolled onto her back and whimpered- showing her submissiveness. And I cried. It's the first time in my entire life I've ever laid a hand on my dog like that. And it broke me into a million peices. But her absence of love for me today broke my heart even more.

Summer Surprises

Lately, I have been anxiously awaiting summer. Surprisingly not for the wildflowers, or the sound of the creek in my backyard, or even the chatter of the birds. Rather- the children. In the summer I host free activities for the lovely youth of my village. Many families cannot afford to feed their children three meals a day. The school, typically helps with that. But once school is out the children are left to fend for themselves. That's where I stepped in. I buy snacks and quick lunches and feed the kids three times a week. I also set up a pool (the first this village has ever seen) and let the children play. Last summer it was quite an exciting event. I dearly loved the constant screaming and giggling of children. I've missed it this winter. And I cannot wait to surprise them with the much larger pool I purchased for this year. A wonderful lady named Sylvia, donated enough towels for each of the kids to use! Most parents cannot afford towels to let their kids bring swimming, so this was such a blessing. And I have purchased many many pool toys and snacks to fill the warmer days. I am awaiting the weather to warm, very impatiently. But can you blame me? The company of children is a very hard thing to wait for.

Return of the Squirrel

Today, I awoke to a very pleasent surprise. In the dawning sun, resting on the east side of my smokehouse, sat Chipper. My dear little squirrel has returned. I haven't quite figured out if it is in fact Chipper- or her daughter, Sassy. Nevertheless my heart skipped a beat at her appearance. Her winter fur is silky and ready for spring. She's of healthy weight, energetic, and obviously adoring our light and early mornings. She's given me motivation to by seed and scatter it about the backyard. I'll be cleaning out her box here soon. I wasn't sure if I would ever see her again after she migrated away this winter. Her reappearance is dearly treasured. I can't await the view of her antics this coming summer.

A Simply Dirty Cabin

My little cabin, is undoubtedly, a mess. Many would assume that a little rural Alaskan writer would be quite the tidy soul. But they are sincerely mistaken. Rustic and filled with many worldly collections, my home is most certainly an unorganized chaos. My windowsills are filled with toppling over plants, my floors are filled with toys for my many pets, and I let dust collect for much too long. Without running water much of my dishes and clothes go unwashed for periods of time. I prefer muddy paw prints over pristine shiney wooden floors. And I kind of like my random stacks of books, craft supplies, and artifacts scattered about. And now that it is the stereotypical spring cleaning time I have set my mind to organizing. But I suppose artistic souls are just not the organized kind. For I often find myself in fascination of a long-lost possession, and forget simple-heartedly about the rest of the mess.

Saving Flies

There are many many flies waking up lately. Flies, although a nuisance to most, are among one of my favorite visitors. I love the way they lightly touch things. They're not heavy like other insects. Rather they're very dainty. They're soft. Often times they go completely unnoticed. The air in my home is dry, so unfortunately they often find themselves too weak to fly from dehydration. They begin to frantically roam for any accidental droplet on my wooden cabin floor. Seeing this, I immidiately run to my bucket of spring water, dip my hands in, and fling a few rain drops in their direction. They'll drink it almost immidiately. It's this unspoken understanding between me and the little flying creatures that make a home in my walls. They'll keep me company, and I'll provide their little life-saving miracles.

Spring Time Cheer

Lately I am feeling very positive. I'm not sure why, but I just have one of those gut feelings that something magical and magnificant is going to occur. The sun is shining until 11:00 in the evening and that has truly brightened away my cabin fever blues. I have little seedlings of vegetables growing rapidly on my windowsills. Coho and Rascal are playful and spring-time energetic. And everything just seems to be falling into place. I finally have the motivation to clean the house (something that in the winter seems so daunting). It's just beautiful. Ordinary and ruitine, yet unimaginably beautiful.

Star-Struck Crush

Every once in a while I get caught up in a star-struck crush. To be unusually honest, the most recent is my neighbor. We had a cliche 'can I borrow some sugar' situation on my doorstep a month ago. When I answered the door in nothing more than pajamas and unwashed hair I was caught off gaurd to see his handsome face smiling back at me. So I stuttered and mumbled my way through a minute long awkward conversation. One month later and we've crossed paths a few times. I've waved to him, he's smiled at me, and we've not spoken one more word to eachother. So it would seem absolutely ridiculous that for some reason I get light-headed and butterflies when I see him. But I do. It's unexplainable, aside from the fact that I'm unexplainably sexually attracted to him. He has a lovely girlfriend. And I have a man of my own. But how dearly I'd love to pull him into some secluded forested part of the village and let him lay me down in the snow for a while...

Decide

I wanted to think I was strong enough to make a life together, despite his past. But I'm beginning to see that this life is his dream, not mine. It's no longer about being strong- it's about being free.

A Memory Letter From My Mother

Today, April 5th, I turned 21 years old. And my mother wrote me a letter:

21 years ago, on April 5th, at 5:15 AM you were born, A baby girl that was calm and took the best baby picture to send out to the relatives. For a full year you weren't sick once. You had a hard time going to sleep, so I would lay with you all swaddled up in my arm in bed. I think Dad was afraid I'd suffocate you. He'd come home from working at UPS (that would be 3:00 AM) and find you in bed with me. We had a bassinet right by the bed so I'd put you in there then. When we moved you to the crib you would sometimes cry out, but only for a second. Then, in a little while, you'd do a giggle. This was all while you were sleeping. Once I got use to this it was fun to listen to you. When you were able to sit yourself up I had a little mirror with a noise thing on it and you would talk to yourself in the mirror. So funny!!!
Just wanted to give you a few memories of you just in the first year of your life on your 21st birthday! You are such a strong, independant woman! We are so proud of you! Have a great 21st birthday!
We love you!
Mom & Dad

Names

I've loved two men. One never knew I loved him. One always will. Their names are secrets, in their own right. Secretly stored away in my heart and in my memory. Secret to the world. Confined to my diary. But other names, although not associated with love, they mean something. Some touch me mentally, some emotionally, some physically. Some whisper lustful wishes. Others regrest of missed opportunity. And a select few- fond memories and perhaps and underlying 'What if'. Some names are secret, but not all need be. And here are a few names, that for some reason, I don't want to keep locked away: Dan Williams, Bryce Quinn, Paul Tolodxi, Chad Looney, Darrell Alexie, Christopher Redfox, Boone Tegeler, Alex Sucher, Jimmy Commins, and Casey O'Connor.

Dirt Filled Windowsills

I spent most of today planting little itty bitty seeds. Seeds the sizes of a grain of sand. So fragile, yet strong. So small yet so full of potential. Each seed was planted in it's own cup, covered in plastic, and placed on my windowsill. They are stacked 6 cups high. Each window with a different plant. One with green beans, another with carrots, another with lettuce, another with radishes, and the last with celery. The other windows in my home are decorated with spider plants, pinapple plants, mother-in-laws-tongue, lemon trees, and banana trees. But my favorite windows are the ones that are simply filled with dirt right now. Dirt and one tiny seed. One tiny seed, so small yet so full of potential.