nutting up, not shutting up.

Today was the beginning of the end of any free time I might have left. I'm okay with it, though, because I had probably one of the best pre-working-full-time vacations. The majority of my time was spent upstate, specifically Rosendale. If you have not been, I highly suggest it. It's inspiring up there. Seeing it again, I was filled with something completely indescribable. One of the days I went for a three and a half hour hike around an area called the Snyder Estate all by myself. About two hours in, I started crying out of nowhere. A while ago I came across this medical 'disorder' called Stendhal Syndrome (thank you, Dario Argento.) Basically, it's where one literally gets sick or goes crazy from being in the presence of art (insert wikipedia here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stendhal_syndrome I still don't know how to insert links, so cut and paste.) I almost felt like I was hallucinating how beautiful everything was while I was trekking around. It was so overwhelming that I just couldn't help myself and had tears rolling down my cheeks. I felt dizzy. I felt like how I feel on the days when I accidentally forget to take my crazy pills, which is completely an out of body experience and it's as if I'm floating and not actually doing the things that I know I am, like walking or breathing or feeling or all of the above. Reality stopped existing for me. That whole week makes me want to rent a little two-bedroom place somewhere upstate so I can just make art and hike (i.e. run naked through the woods like the deer-in-headlights I am.) However, I realize that in order to do the things I want to with my art, that it's pretty much necessary for me to move in or around the city. It's just one of those things that has to happen. Up until two months ago, this was not my plan. I mean, I really didn't have much of a plan but whatever it was had nothing to do with New York. I was done with it. We had broken up and I was attempting to move on with my life. But, as is true with most things in my life that I believe to have ended, I'm going back to him. New York is my Beau. He is my love and my life. In any event, the move to the city'ish area has to happen. After being away upstate, though, I want so much to move back up there. I graduated from college two years ago, and went to school in that area (SUNY New Paltz, my alma) and this was my first extended trip up since I moved out of my last apartment (le sigh.) It was perfection. I forgot how much I need nature and that continuous stimulation that only the woods can give you (me.) Don't get me wrong, I'm a beach babe at heart. I fucking love the ocean. New York may be my boyfriend, but the ocean is the love of my life and (if she was real) I'd drop trou for her in a second (yes, the ocean is a she.) Somehow, she just can't give me the same sort of stimulation that a three hour hike in the mountains can. Anyway. I'm torn now. Yet again life has thrown me a (running the risk of sounding cliche, here) curve ball to fuck my shit up. It's time for me to nut up or shut up and by golly I'm whipping those nuts out and making some mother-fucking peanut butter, Sasquatch damn-it all to Nessie!


Blah, blah, blah, yakkitty-shmakkity, life reflection, life reflection, life reflection oh, and this guy: