In the middle of the niigghht I go walking in my sle-eep.


I’m doing it again, and I have to stop.  I commit myself to the point of mania.  At my old job, in my old town, there were no other options. It was work or bust.   However, that mentality often left me scrambling for “me” time.  

Today, I volunteered to go into work and make some calls to students just to make sure they’re coming.  If I don’t I’d just sit here on the floor of this apartment watching things on the internet. Or I’d go out into the world of Seattle and spend money that I shouldn’t.  I figured getting exercise and connecting with people is a much better choice.

Saturday I drove out to the Olympic Peninsula in a school bus to drop off a trip.  We passed beautiful lakes, mountains, and hot springs.  It reminded me of the islands.  It was a 14-hour journey.  I wasn’t told, but more likely than not, I forgot, that I was spending the night.  As a result, I spent the night alright — shivering.  


Once every few hours I would create this odd porous cocoon of warmth.  I remember asking myself, “How did you sleep when you had away games in high school?”  Combining that eleven-year old knowledge with my WFR training I took off my shoes and put my feet in my waterproof Timbuk2. Whatever heat I created would bounce off the liner and warm my feet.  I then did the same with my legs by taking my Mountain Hardwear softshell zipping it around my thighs and calves and tied the sleeves in a knot so tight it might as well have been a tourniquet.  Then, my core the most important part to keep warm.  I zipped my Mountain Hardwear fleece to my chin, turned my North Face rain jacket around and zipped it backwards so my face was protected by the back of the hood.  I was comfortable, for the most part.  
As the moon rose, comfort sank. I hopped from the reclining driver’s seat to one of the seats with, “the hump.”  I’d often roll over onto the hump, bump my head and startle myself awake.  At one point I went into the bathroom, and did jumping jacks to get my blood pumping.  Upon returning to the bus I realized I couldn’t do it any more.  I had to start my 7-hour trip home.    
 Two hours in, I needed a nap. So, I pulled over in the infamous, and desolate Forks, WA for a snooze.  Not ignorant to the tales of vampires and werewolves I locked all doors said a prayer and kept my hand on the wooden stake I keep in my backpack.  The rest of journey was fine.  I was exhausted, but happy.  I’ve become an expert at crossing Lake Washington (?) on a ferry. 

I’m going to try and keep some of my time for myself during this week off.  I leave for my first trip out in the field in early July. Eight days backpacking on the Olympic Coast.
Yesterday I had a long conversation with a friend that made me laugh till I cried and that felt good.  I miss intimacy.  That cave where it usually sleeps might be my downfall.  I don’t want to create false bubbles of familiarity because it’s easy.  I don’t want to date someone just because they’re there. I can feel it happening. 

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