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Wandering Lunatics

 My entire childhood was spend dreaming and scheming to get out of backward town of Tabernacle.  My room was shared and our house was pure chaos, always...I banned all guests after first grade and took over cleaning, cooking and packing the most bizarro lunches that my sister still recalls.  Apparently having a mom in third grade makes you the first grade hit!!  What the hell did I know...hell I still eat like a crazy pregnant person now!  The backdrop for the small town girl gonna make it big was a big field and further back a highway.  I absolutely loved to hear the hum it sang to me of adventure and a way out and that I wasn't alone...somewhere things were happening and I should be in that somewhere with those somebodies...When I actually did leave town it was with a group of annoying student overachievers on an ambassador program to the Motherland of my Father, Russia.  It was 1992 and Russia wan't a first pick for anyone but the chill and the poverty helped me with my pain, my father never even got to go home again and he'll never hear my stories or read them either.  Sure I'd been to the poconos and jersey shore...but, seriously, just no that's not travel. Right after I got back one government buildings we ate and toured in was bombed.  I was in love.  The adventure.  All the feelings of my family of roots and connections and of the beauty and poverty. I moved to Manhattan at 17 for college and I was a world away again.  Whenever you step back into Manhattan you are energized with frenzy and full of fast paced action and in love all over again.  I can remember trying to STAND OUT...since I was so used to hiding it at home.  I was wearing my SP205 speed skates, pink oversized stoppers, giant purple laces a pair of polyester blue and white checked shorts and matching top of white with checked collar.  Very Bond Girl - found it at a friend's house - it was her moms!! OH, and a cape.  NOONE EVEN blinkED.  Soon everyone was pouring out for breaks to amazing road trips to visit a myriad of six degrees of separation goes collage campus hopping.  We saw Graceland and my friend Eric Botbyl who create beautiful pottery.  We played in the studio and his buddies sang a really rowdy down home washboard mash up of Like a Virgin and I touch myself.  I cleaned their place as a parting gift.  Barter was so easy!  Down to New Orleans for St. Patrick's Day...I really don't think I have to explain it and over to Ghettysburg to get our ***** handed to us in all things non-city college such as beer pong.

Next it was England.  Then again back to London only (for a specific mojito - I'm probably getting the hang of this now but still poor). Then over to drink with my favorite dead writers in Ireland and dream of their words and my life when I first heard them, composing from this stool, maybe?  Down to Italy for Venice, Florence and Rome.  Then Calabria and Sicily...where my best friend's family was from...we were proud that day...not even close to that emotion in school because both of uscl were raised by single mom's that by this point had pulled it together at home and in their hearts, put themselves through college - middle aged and now - me an NYU grad and world traveling lunatic with her sidekick can sit on this cliff by the ocean and really see what a mother will do, how strong and deep it is and it's almost a match to the cliffs dramatic lows being lapped up by our salty waters, healing wounds and opening up a much larger board for the game of life.  Greece, Switzerland.  Moved to LA...Up to Canada down to Mexico.  San Fran another writers mecca.  Then down to the fateful wedding that made me everything in St. Thomas.  Back.  Down to Rio...countless small road trips and a month long insanity backroad romp moving there with my gay best friend and the best thing in the world , Javier, and then back with my other best thing in the world Alex.  Both times I was in a convertible and I never got arrested...but I'm staying out of Oaklahoma...Now I'm itchy in PHilly (my third US city) I need a foreign shore to dip my soul in and let that country lick the new wounds and heal and wander and lust and well, I know, you know when you are like this sometimes you just have to go...

SadEyedLady88 SadEyedLady88 31-35 1 Response May 30, 2009

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