thinking long enough to have thoughts

It's interesting that the only time I find myself breathing in wi-fi and willing to write, I'm drinking a chai. So here I am again. I found out that the laundromat has internet! And a great view of the snow-capped mountains outside. So my laundry's done and sitting in a pile next to me, but I think I'll stay alittle longer. To update...

A couple weeks ago I finally made the comittment to stay with this job for a year. It took practice, though. First of all, practice in busting a fire using a bow drill set (this is a requirement to become an instructor). And most importantly, practice in comittment. Some friends said I should either go out and have a kid or get a dog. A great way to learn commitment (I can't figure out how to spell this word). But kind of extreme. So I bought two plants instead. One I named Merv the fern (named after Vern who has survived the Ohio climate since my senior year in college and who my mom regularly gives updates on because I think it reminds her of me... "So, Juli, things are going pretty well here at home... Vern's not so happy. He's losing leaves left and right. I think he does better when you're around.") and another plant which for some reason doesn't compel me to name it.

So I'll be here until atleast next winter. Part of me is excited to have something planned for my future and a place to finally settle into. Another part of me is still uneasy about being away from family for another year.

So that's the update. I wish I'd write more like I used to. But I went for a run this morning and stopped at a park to swing and I looked up at the surrounding rocks and realized that I never stop to think long enough to have thoughts. And as I swung like a little kid, I looked up at the surrounding rocks and felt the familiarity of thoughts I experienced long ago. The kind of stuff I used to write about.

I live under an old volcano, atleast I think it is. The hill is shaped like a volcano and made up of black lava rock. An airport sits on top. To the left of the black volcano, blue mountains topped with snow sat in the distance. That's out where I live every other week. And to the left of those sat red hardened sand dunes, out near Snow Canyon. The view was incredible. Three different colors, three very different rocks, and me in the middle. Geese started honking in the distance and I realized that geese sound very much like tired moms calling their kids in for the evening.

I turned around and looked at the dried up Santa Clara river beside me and remembered pictures I'd seen of when it overflowed its banks and washed out a bunch of houses here years ago. Today, people know better, or atleast they think they do. Large walls line the edges of the river, stone-filled chicken wire holding together the banks. I've realized in recent years that I relate most to a river and I like to live in places where water travels through, but doesn't stay. The river sat next to me today stagnant, only a small stream moved through. I can't help but feel I'm sacrificing something by staying still... that river in me. This year I hope to find peace in the stillness and maybe a part of me I've avoided, a part that can only be found when I'm not moving.