Tag Archives: the river

On a More Serious Note


I’m not a spirtual person. I don’t believe ing god or a higher power and if people decide they don’t like me for that, then that’s fine. I come from a family of Christians who believe very strongly in God and Jesus. We agree to disagree and love each other regardless of opposing views on the world. Which is exactly how it should be. Not everyone has to agree on everything. However, that isn’t where this post is going I just went off on a tangent, as I’m want to do. My point is that I’m not spirtual, the river is the closest thing I have to a god and I’m lucky enough to hear it right outside my house every single night.


When I was in Portland there was no river. There was no stream. I found no brook. All I found was the ocean, and I honestly have no love or connection to it whatsoever, so it did me know good. Every day in Portland I would say to myself “I wish there was a river or a moving body of water.” But there never was. And you know what else? I was never really happy there. 

The happiest point in my summer last year, right after I moved home, was when we did our play run on the river. At the end we beached our raft in a friends back yard and I just sat in the river, in the sun, letting the water rush past me. Cleanse me. I have never been as happy as I was in that one singular moment. I was home. I was exactly where I belonged and where I needed to be and taking a year away from it was what made me realize it. 


Sometimes I look back at my time in Portland and wonder why I ever thought that would be a good idea but then I realize I needed to do it because if I hadn’t I would always take my home for granted and would never have realized that this is where I’m supposed to be. And do you know what really made me realize this? The river. The lack of river in Portland and then appreciating it for what it is when I got back. 


Not everyone has a river and not everyone has a God. It’s unfortunate. And a lot of people are busy, really busy, all the time. So I would suggest you take time to yourself. Turn your phone off, leave your computer/ipad/electronics at home, and go spend time with yourselfm be it 10 minutes or two days. At a church, or next to the river, maybe on top of the highest building in New York City. I don’t know, but take time for yourself, make sure you are happy, and never ever take the things that do make you happy and whole for granted. 



Up to my Knees in Seagull Shit


I live on the ocean, which to the two of you that actually take time out of your lives to read this (though I wonder why you would waste it in such away) are probably thinking “Damn. I’m jealous. I want to live on the ocean.” To which I will respond, I live in Maine. It is not awesome, it is cold. Freezing. Even in August the water is 45 degrees. Maybe I don’t find the ocean that compelling because I didn’t grow up on it. I much prefer the river, but that is a different story and one that will probably come up more than once. The worst thing about the ocean though are the seagulls. If you know anything at all about seagulls then you know they are evil and if you don’t know anything about seagulls then brace yourself because I am about to tell you.
I’m a girl who isn’t afraid of much. I’ve lived in a tent with giant spiders and snakes as well as the occasional raccoon. However, there are three things I am afraid of:
1. commitment
2. bats
3. birds but mostly pigeons and seagulls.
Don’t start questioning me on the first one, that’s for a later date. This is about how fucking scary and out of control seagulls are. They freak me out. They are loud and annoying, much like crows, dirty and gross. They are everywhere here. They are constantly flying around my apartment, my job, rummaging through the garbage on Wednesday nights, and shitting on anything they can find. They’re fucking disgusting.

One time when I was at the beach with my three best friends (they are all sisters) and they’re mother we pulled out or lunch. Sandwiches, a typical beach lunch. I had just made mine and was about to eat it when one of those nasty mother fuckers swooped down and took it right out of my hands! I was nervous about them before but this douche bag sealed my fear. He left a scratch on my hand I’m lucky I didn’t get bird flu from and left me in a panic thinking of how he could have been stuck in my hair. If he had even been close to my hair. Which he wasn’t but that isn’t the point.

Actually I am not sure there is a point at all except that I am at work with nothing to do feeling compelled to write with a seagull sitting on a telephone wire outside the window giving me the evil eye. So I have chosen to tell you about my completely irrational fear. Which you don’t care about, but to be quite honest, I don’t care about what you don’t care about. As it is the seagull has taken off, probably to steal a hotdog from a young child at the baseball game. Awesome seagull. Way to keep being a dick.

I call this guy Scary Seagull and I mean it with all the affection I can muster (which isn’t very much.) I know the only thought going through his head is “bitch ima get yo sandwich!!”