3.05.2011

February

That month was a mountain. Raina always said it was the hardest. Did some calendar-maker recognize this fact and make it the shortest?

Assess the validity of these statements:

1) In most of those years, I was attracted to self-confident women and men uncomfortable in their own skin.

2) I always found a way to insult everyone.

3) “Every kind of love, or at least my kind of love, must be an imaginary love to start with.”

4) I walk faster than everyone in Denver but run slower.

Bob ignored my request for address. Screw the digital age; I still want to write letters.

In January I looked for Danielle’s Strawberry Shortcake story and found the goals we had to write down during our sophomore year in high school. Short-term, medium-term, long-term goals that we stuck in a self-addressed envelope and our teacher mailed to us later. Go to the Shore after prom with my friends. That was one of my short-term goals. Ski in the Rockies, that was a long-term one. Most of the goals were about traveling, things I wanted to see. I don’t know if there were any that were about accomplishing something. I would have written him about that, if I had his address.

I had two crappy poems in our school’s annual “literary magazine.” Her Shortcake story was good. I thought these poems were dramatically different, one romantic, one ominous, and then Mrs. Doll said she read them and thought it interesting that they were both about forgetting. I didn’t know I was writing about forgetting until my gym teacher pointed it out.

I loved how Eulynn wrote under a pseudonym.

It was a month where I felt disconnected.

We went to the top of Breckenridge and fell into a trail called George’s Thumb. It was a whiteout. Maryann and I got dizzy, and people were only gray shapes. We couldn’t tell which way was up or down, and I clung to the only two things I know about avalanches. Don’t panic. Spit to determine which direction to dig out: if the spit lands in your face you can tell which way is up, I guess. That morning was the first time I heard the dynamite setting off controlled avalanches.

I felt like visiting Pittsburgh.

I read The Hunger Games trilogy and questioned the strength of my instinct for self-preservation. February will do that to you.

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