Oh, mercy.
I went to this nature conservancy place in Asheville a few months ago. It’s one of those places where folks bring injured animals found in the wild for rehab. There were a strange small pack of wolves, a mountain lion, a bear, some deer, otters, two eagles, one with a crushed wing, one blind in one eye, a completely blind owl, and quite a few others. They were all well cared for, and in surprisingly nice, quite large wooded enclosures… Better than you might expect or hope for…
But there was one sad creature there that has haunted me since that day. I followed the path to the big cats’ enclosure and came to a place where there was a low gap in the hedge that surrounded the fence where the bobcats where kept. One bobcat was asleep there, against the fence, but the other was facing the fence and performing this VERY strange hypnotic ‘dance’. He would swing his head – which was very close to the fence, nose almost touching - to and fro, and his chest would follow, and he would step wide to the left with one paw, then to the right with the other, repetitively, without stop. It seemed to be a VERY tight kind of “pacing”, confined to less than two feet of space. He didn’t even turn his body around, just side-to-side, paw-to-paw. He definitely seemed entranced. In fact, my kneeling there did not disturb him, and when others saw me and came to see what I was looking at, he still did not falter. People began to hiss at him, or to other wise distract him, but to no avail. It seemed that nothing could break his pattern.
The fenced area was quite large, larger than my own house, and with trees and rocks and caves. But here this cat stood and swayed and paced, miserable, insane. I was mesmerized, too. A combination of sadness, pity, anger, deep curiosity and empathy held me there. As I sat and watched him, waiting, wishing – praying for some change, a couple passed with a baby in a pram. When the small family had gone a 15 or 20 feet past us, something caused the baby to cry out, to squeal in pain or anger (it was not a happy sound) and at that moment, the cat stopped and looked toward the sound.
He only looked away for a second, and then he turned back, his eyes seemed to re-focus on the fence, he looked – I don’t know, confused? – and then he resumed his strange dance. For as long as I was there, he never stopped. As I walked around, I kept looking back, and even when I walked up the hill and looked down over the wolf-woods, there he was, endlessly pacing.
Even if that cat were let go today, would he be able to survive? It seems that madness like that would never go away… Maybe it would be easier to deal with such madness loose, in the wild, but how far could that poor cat go before he came upon more “civilization? A chicken house, or a bad dog? Maybe the kind thing would be to put it down, to end that pacing and longing forever.
I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop pacing and longing. My own world shrank again yesterday, drastically, noticeably. The four walls – home, work, society, sanity – are shrinking and closing, so much that I feel physically dizzy and slightly disoriented. I have honestly felt that reality has shifted just a few degrees in some direction… everything around me seems slightly out of place, strange and different. Not enough for me to freak out and hie me to Broughton or anything… just enough to make me feel crazy enough to worry.
I feel bad that my friends see me as unhappy and seeming to complain so much, but what seems like complaint is not. Complaint is generally useless – though sometimes the squeaky wheel DOES get the grease… I’m afraid that there’s no grease for this wheel.
It’s not complaint, it’s warning.

HATE is no longer too strong a word for my feelings about this terrain combined with ACTUAL winter.
Driving home last night was truly a bizarre nightmare. I am traumatized for life – again*.
Hatred. Really. I cried for want of a stretch of straight, level road, highway 49, I-10, 98, long, flat roads, with pine trees that actually start growing level with the road and reach ABOVE it – how novel. At the worst, you might have to drive through rain, or some water, maybe skirt an alligator. No biggie. No snow, ice, FALLING !@#$ ROCKS.
I cried for that, stuck there, almost out of gas, idling along that steep slope, packed in with miles of other sad, scared, tired, angry drivers, for that and a few other things (probably some dumb song on the radio, too**…) but only for a few seconds, as it was screwing up my visibility.
45 minutes to go NINE miles.
THEN I got to 108. Little Nissan pimp-mobiles sliding sidewinder, slow and those GIANT yellow Brazil-mobiles with the blades on front and the blinking lights. So surreal. It took 20 minutes to cover that six miles… and then, at the end of it all, the hill from hell.
I can’t begin to describe the hill to my house. Those of you who know are WELCOME to write in with horror-testimonies. It is BAD. VERY steep, VERY curved. Esme (my truck) convinced me that she could make it. (no, she doesn’t talk. But she is very expressive, nonetheless…). We got over the bridge and as we tried to make the push, she slid, and back we went, luckily, I was able to control her enough to get her safely into a ditch. I went to ask the neighbor if it was ok to leave her there until the thaw (in March?) and he insisted that he was “The King of the Hill” (yes, he really said that) and that he could park the truck.
He was so delighted with Esme, that he decided to BACK her down the hill, over the bridge and all the way to grandmother’s house (a good half-block) just so he could “play”. It was about then that I realized he was drunk. As he began to accelerate, he said (mullet a-flutter) that “Whatcha hafta do is get up some speed!” and he did, and then careened up the hill. “I THINK WE CAN MAKE IT! WOO! THIS TRUCK HAS GOT SOME PAIR!”
Amazingly, we did make it. There was much sliding and praying and hollering, the curve at the top of the hill was terrifying, it was like a nightmare fun-park ride. But sure enough, he swung Esme crazily into the driveway, hooting like a wild Indian. It was INSANE. I told him that he had earned the title of King of the Hill. Redneck pride is an awesome thing, y’all.
I was exhausted. Crashed hard, and woke up to the new nightmare of trying to get to work. I ended up having to walk DOWN the hill (yes, I did fall, once, on the thick ice) and my boss kindly met me on the road near the factory. So no Snow Day Off.
And how in the hell am I supposed to do this all again TOMORROW?
!@#$. !@#$-!@#$%^. !@#$a buncha WINTER!!!

* I saw a bumper sticker the other day that said “Great. Another learning experience.”
**wouldn’t you HATE to die in a wreck crying and singing along with Whitney or Barry Manilow?!

Well, considering the time of year, it’s pretty easy for me to decide what to rant about. My friends have all heard it, but obviously I haven’t told ENOUGH people, because I am still ticked. :)
Between the cabin fever, the fact that (to me) it is colder than a well-digger’s euphemism in Idiom-ville, my innate restlessness (wanderlust is not EVEN the word for it*.), the fact that I am terribly “homesick” (I am REALLY missing my aunts, siblings and cousins…), and the feeling that the mountains are closing in on me while I sleep, well, I don’t know… it seems like it’s only a matter of time before I snap. I only hope that my friends manage to kill me before I get all those bags of lime unloaded from the bed of my truck.
Does one HAVE to witness a crime to be accepted into the Witness Protection Program?
Oh bloody heck. It is threatening to snow now… >:[
“Aaalways look on the bright side of life…”

I did something really good for myself (as well as my poor beleaguered contingency of local friends) last weekend. I went to Asheville and spent my days off just playing. Hallelujah! Girls and wine and pubbing, good movies, good talk… and new faces, new streets, new shops, new conversation, new buildings, new places to eat, new activities (the Improv Workshop was a BLAST!)… and best of all, Wendi has a SHOWER! For those of you who have never crouched down in the bottom of the shower and let hot water beat on your back until you feel better – ahhhh, this is good therapy! I don’t have a shower, just my big happy tub, which I do love, but nothing beats a good squall in the bottom of the shower.
I have similar plans this weekend, too. Auditions Sunday, and then I hope to hang out with Jen and D. again (Jen and I went to Goodwill and wandered downtown on Monday**. She’s a great shopping/lunch kinda’ buddy. This room mate thing might actually work!), and I think Buffy and I have some plans to play on this Monday.
Life is beautiful…
If only these MOUNTAINS would quit closing in…


*I’m actually wondering if the whole PLANET isn’t too small for me…
**She also introduced me to another freaky sexy librarian! Hey, Lisa! ;)

testing, 1, 2, 3... IS THIS THING .. oh, sorry. is this thing on?

mooowahahaha! finally! a place that i can gripe and b***h and rant and prattle - WHATEVER, WHENEVER I WANT!!!!! MOOWOWHAHAHAHAHHA!!!!