Commas & Light

Writing comes in spurts for me, even if it is updating a blog or keeping a journal. These days, I do more reading than writing, not because I am humble but because the latter is harder work. So Z and C, I am working hard for you.

In the past month, I've jumped into a very cold lake, fallen down a mountain, fallen up a mountain, whitewater rafted down a river, consoled an inebriated roommate, employed the local flora for nose-blowing, gotten trapped in a pollen storm, g-chatted with a kid, still a kid, in Tokyo, overslept, underslept, sent a letter to Rwanda, sent 400+ letters to Minnesota, videoconferenced with my parents, whacked myself in the eye with a tennis racket, stayed up until 4am to watch a man after God's own heart get in a green van and drive away down the dirt road, sending a last reverberating "bye" into the cold air and dark mountains. In the past month, I've 'cried' a few times, mostly after the mid-afternoon yawns, the rest from laughing too hard. Life has been good. I miss the intellectual vibrancy of school, I miss my friends, I miss the nearness of New York, but there are things I don't miss as well. And a lot of other people probably don't miss the same things I don't miss so there's no need to talk about it. But maybe, just maybe, by the time I return to school, the things I don't like won't bother me so much anymore because I will have been the one to change.

Random fact: the second-biggest city in Montana is Missoula (pronounced: Mi-ZOO-la), more a big town than a city, and I've been there a couple of times with other interns. Half the fun is the two hour one-way ride, a fifth of it on unpaved road, during which I inevitably fall asleep. I remember the first time I was in Missoula at the International Airport. I got off my plane and wondered why my e-ticket didn't say which terminal I would be arriving in. Then I realized--there is only one.