Wow, it's been a hellofa long time since I've posted on here. I started this blog way back when I was an itsy bitsy teenager (19 years old!) and now I'm an old lady... I'm twenty three. Needless to say my life has taken some very big twists and turns over the last few years and I haven't kept up on this blog as much as I wished I would have.
I spent a couple years in my village home and didn't write much during that time. This last summer (the summer of 2015) I ran away to Anchorage to try my life as a more 'city-esque' being. That failed. Oh goodness, that failed miserably. I essentially moved for a man. A guy who loved me so so much. He put up with much more than he should have from me. I went through a bit of an identity crisis when I got over there. I'd always been the bush-living wide-eyed wondering hippie. It was foreign to me to live in a place where people went to work every day and drove cars and lived in neat houses. I was used to the village life, where most of the town just wandered around the tundra aimlessly gathering, hunting, and fishing their own food. The kids roamed freely and no one drove a car- snow machines were the only form of transportation. Granted, there were a lot of bad parts. But I loved my life without running water, television, and shopping malls. And I had that stripped away from me when I went and tried to be 'so and so's girlfriend'.
It didn't work. I broke down. I got angry and crabby and I turned into your normal bitter city person. I felt crowded. I drove a car and I hated my commute to my dead end job that gave me no source of satisfaction. I missed my village kids. I missed the stray dogs. I missed the tundra snow storms and the wild waves of the Yukon River. I missed my Eskimo neighbors and I missed my ragged old messy cabin home.
It took six months for me to get up the courage to admit that I couldn't trade my life of humble luxury in the village for a 'normal' life in Anchorage. I left the guy who loved me. I left my car and apartment and job, and I ran back out to the one and only place I'd ever truly felt at 'home' at: My village. My crazy village with dirt roads and no running water and dirty children running freely. My village where the store has no fresh produce and the only way to leave is to fly out on a $500 plane ticket. I ran back 'home' to that place. And that's where I'm at now. Happily sitting in my dirty cabin with a wood stove crackling in the corner and dogs howling beyond my window. I wouldn't have it any other way. I tried my hand at the normal life. But the normal life was never for me. I've made a commitment to this place now. It's stolen my heart. And as much as I'd like to live in a mansion with an expensive car, my ideal life involves a plywood-walled house and a dog sled. So this is the re-start of my life. My adventures as a Lone Alaskan Gypsy. Beginning again in the place she ran away to way back when she was just 18 years old...
I spent a couple years in my village home and didn't write much during that time. This last summer (the summer of 2015) I ran away to Anchorage to try my life as a more 'city-esque' being. That failed. Oh goodness, that failed miserably. I essentially moved for a man. A guy who loved me so so much. He put up with much more than he should have from me. I went through a bit of an identity crisis when I got over there. I'd always been the bush-living wide-eyed wondering hippie. It was foreign to me to live in a place where people went to work every day and drove cars and lived in neat houses. I was used to the village life, where most of the town just wandered around the tundra aimlessly gathering, hunting, and fishing their own food. The kids roamed freely and no one drove a car- snow machines were the only form of transportation. Granted, there were a lot of bad parts. But I loved my life without running water, television, and shopping malls. And I had that stripped away from me when I went and tried to be 'so and so's girlfriend'.
It didn't work. I broke down. I got angry and crabby and I turned into your normal bitter city person. I felt crowded. I drove a car and I hated my commute to my dead end job that gave me no source of satisfaction. I missed my village kids. I missed the stray dogs. I missed the tundra snow storms and the wild waves of the Yukon River. I missed my Eskimo neighbors and I missed my ragged old messy cabin home.
It took six months for me to get up the courage to admit that I couldn't trade my life of humble luxury in the village for a 'normal' life in Anchorage. I left the guy who loved me. I left my car and apartment and job, and I ran back out to the one and only place I'd ever truly felt at 'home' at: My village. My crazy village with dirt roads and no running water and dirty children running freely. My village where the store has no fresh produce and the only way to leave is to fly out on a $500 plane ticket. I ran back 'home' to that place. And that's where I'm at now. Happily sitting in my dirty cabin with a wood stove crackling in the corner and dogs howling beyond my window. I wouldn't have it any other way. I tried my hand at the normal life. But the normal life was never for me. I've made a commitment to this place now. It's stolen my heart. And as much as I'd like to live in a mansion with an expensive car, my ideal life involves a plywood-walled house and a dog sled. So this is the re-start of my life. My adventures as a Lone Alaskan Gypsy. Beginning again in the place she ran away to way back when she was just 18 years old...