Beginning Again

 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...

Repeat Dreams Of The Same Person

There is one particular man who has shown up in my dreams sporadically but regularly for the last six to seven months. I know so little about him that calling him anything more than an acquaintance wouldn't seem appropriate. He worked at the Boys and Girls Club where I volunteered- and that's how I came across him. We briefly and barely talked. He had no interest in me, to say the least. Still doesn't. And yet, for some unknown to me reason, my subconscious has deemed him as an appropriate person to think about during slumber. I've had so many dreams of him, that I've come to expect them now. Quite frankly, I had no interest in him prior to having him show up so often in my dreams. The dreams are slowly getting more and more intimate. At first it was just talking, then it progressed to hugging, and although all other intimate acts were skipped over- the last two dreams have been of us raising children together. I believe everything happens for a reason- even dreams. Typically I can figure out what my dreams are telling me- but his repeat image has left a blank in my dream journal.

Writing For Healing

Two months go I swore to myself that I would write every day for the rest of this year. Two months later, that obviously has not happened. I truly need to make a more sincere effort to just sit down and write a bit each day. It's so fulfilling. Three weeks ago, the three children I fostered last winter came back into my home- quite unexpectedly. Within the first two days of them being here, both Shiva and Mangey passed away. I spent most of these last three weeks emotionally and physically drained. It's been terribly exhausting and I've just wanted to run away and hide. Alas- as a parent, unfortunately you can't do that. And I've sucked up my tears, skipped over the grieving process for my little fur babies, and strengthened up for the three littles that need me to be strong for them right now. Good energies have taken care of me, and I'm slowly beginning to feel more and more in tune with the world again. And writing has always been my therapy- so I'm here to try and be the best I can be, again.

Late Night Talkers

You know what I really enjoy about late nights? People tell stories late at night. People don't do that during the day. You never hear people delve into philosophical spews at 10:00 AM. But at midnight, every single person becomes a deep thinker. It's pretty remarkable. I think I'm just going to start talking to people late at night. They're way more entertaining in the dark, than they are at midday.

Minnie Mag Speaks

Minnie Mag is my conversationalist cat. It took her a while to like me. I'm not sure what her past owners were like, but she wasn't fond of women when she first came into my home. I tried very hard to change her opinion, and eventually she decided I was a dandy person to be around. Since then, she's spent her days keeping me vocally entertained. I'll often mutter to myself throughout the day. I talk aloud even if no other humans are nearby. Minnie doesn't mind though, she enjoys conversations actually. And no matter what room in the house she is in, she will meow happily back to me when I talk. And if I ever happen to mention her name amidst a conversation she happily comes out to greet me as if to say "I heard you say my name, and thought I would bless you with my presence. Seeing as though I am only so wonderful you must probably be speaking very good about me, anyhow." And she truly is wonderful. How nice it is to have a verbal reply when you speak- even if a human isn't the thing replying to you.