Straight lines are boring.
I mean it. Give me a winding country road, any day of the week, to some four or six lane highway, running straight as an arrow, from point A to point B. Dull as ditch water.
There's something about a back road--there's the curves, for one thing. You never know what awaits you around that next bend. And if you're lucky, the sight is a pleasant one--a charming pond, a wide vista of broad valley and rolling hills, the peaceful scene of livestock grazing, a farmer mowing his hay crop. Maybe you'll see a doe with her fawns, a flock of wild turkeys strutting defiantly across the road. One time, I was passing through a tiny Vermont village--just a general store and a petrol station, a church and a few houses--and there, crossing the street, was a big burly woodsman, complete with beard and red flannel shirt with suspenders and work boots--carting a bass fiddle (cello) through the intersection--no one else there, just me in my car and this guy luggin' along with his cello.
Another time, also in Vermont, I saw a 30 year old gas pump--all original signage, including the price back then (59 cents a gallon--as opposed to $3.19 a gallon today) and there next to the pump was a three-legged Australian cattle dog. Took a black and white picture of that, gave it to a friend of a friend. I once, outside the city here, came upon a little pup, sitting all by itself, in the middle of the road, all forlorn. Stopped the car intending to see if it was okay, only to have mama appear, grab pup my the neck and carry him to safety with the rest of his litter mates peeking out of the roadside brush--turns out, mama was a beautiful red fox.
One time, while looking for a short cut to Lake George from Route 149, I discovered a dead-end...and it is gorgeous! Spreading mountains, valley vistas, charming rural scenes...a well-paved road that basically ends up nowhere...and one really lovely, picturesque short drive, and hardly anyone knows of it, but the locals. I've posted the pumpkin field pic that I took on here. I took this pic of the pumpkin patch on the South Bay road, in the autumn of 2003, I believe.
Now, I don't have to take the long way 'round the barn. I can whisk around, take the straight route, just like most everyone else...and sometimes I have, and I do. But, ya'know...that's really just not my style. I don't think anyone will ever even remotely be able to classify me as trendy. Oh, I can follow the herd, if it suits me, and sometimes, it does. But really, deep down...I like to make my own paths to follow. I like to do things differently. I may be an old stick-in-the-mud, sometimes, and very straight-laced, but deep down--way down deep, there's a bit of the devil in me, I'm afraid.
Oh, I keep it well-hidden, to be sure. Probably too well-hidden, because when I do open up and let go--oh yeah, I'll joyfully jump in with both feet---whether in dead earnest or in gales of laughter--or maybe both.
And people who think they know me, often don't know how to take it. Fortunately, oftentimes, they're delighted. But, sometimes, they treat me different, after that--basically like I'm a certified nutter.
I mean, when I went on these trips with the college--people were expecting me to be quiet and timid and such...and when I just opened up and was myself--my TRUE self--it shocked them. Oh, I don't mean bad behaviour--no, not at all. I mean, sailing in a gale, joyfully conga'ing on a cruise ship and dancing with a belly dancer (no, I wasn't drinking anything stronger than cold sweet tea), gleefully riding a camel, staying alone in a foreign city, while the rest of the group went off and partied in Amsterdam (surprising how many of them told me later they'd be too scared to do that, and being scared never occurred to me), at my dad's wake, everyone telling me how gobsmacked they were at posh dress and outgoing manner--they knew me only as the quiet tree-hugging cowgirl. There's this whole side of me, few people ever see--only because I am really a very private person, as a rule--and the people who "know" me, don't have a clue. They only have seen the surface, all these years...because--this'll sound silly, I guess--but, I'm quite jealous about that side of myself. I don't let it come out for just anybody--or for just any old occasion.
Thing is--okay, I'm sort of self-aware, sometimes. I mean, I know this: With confidence--real confidence in myself, in what I'm doing--I'll plunge in with both feet and have a ball. On those rare times when I'm feeling confidant, I honestly feel empowered, like I can take on anything--and if I don't do well at it, it doesn't matter, because when I have this all-too-rare feeling, no matter what I'm doing, I'm instilled with the knowledge that I'm doing my very best. And for me, that's enough.
Now, I'm no maverick. I'm no wild party girl. In fact, I love routine--as a manic-depressive, it's a necessary evil. Routine helps me function in my daily life--break the routine--and, while it won't really throw me off, it does make managing my life, sometimes, much harder. It's sort of a ying-yang thing with me, routine. I like to make my own paths to follow, I like to go a different way, take that long way 'round the barn--want to rebel against routine, deep down in the very core of my soul--but, that said, I have to acknowledge that I need it.
Sometimes too much routine is bad for me, as well--like now..being in the same place for six months, unable to go anywhere or do much of anything, or be with anyone--bad. Tho', last time that happened--I was literally "stuck" in a small town for 3 years with virtually no transport out (not as "stuck" as I am now, but close enough)...and it lead to my trying again after 20 years--going back to college full-time, and I co-purchased my first home (albeit it was just a very large used caravan, that I later lost), so...maybe in a few years...oh, I don't know. I was in my thirties, last time. I'm more than 10 years older, now, and yes, I feel it, very much so. Nah. My confidence is mostly wiped out--gone. Kaput. There's no teachers here now, to guide me, advise me, encourage me--tell me when I'm putting a foot wrong. I'm floundering, adrift in life's churning seas, and there's no light house, no coast guard, no super hero, gonna' save me now. I've had it. Sorry, but...that's honestly the way I feel. I've plumb run out of steam. I'm dead in the water and I ain't going much of anywhere, career-wise. My dreams died--and I think, I think a part of me has died, as well. But---sometimes, some days, I still, wistfully, long to go a different way.
