Thursday, July 2, 2009

Of Everything That Stands the End

It's really beautiful out today. I think I just might be a morning person but I feel nature flowing through my veins.

I always wake up at five in the morning, it's this weird natural thing. I either go back to sleep or let my dogs out. Today I let my dogs outside. I usually stay out there with them for fifteen minutes to take in the misty Chicago morning. I sat on top of the totally unused dog house that once belonged to my now deceased neighbor and watched the very light, dull pink light from the cold sun caress the grey blue morning sky. The morning star was out. It was really gorgeous. My dog Melrose was sitting on the ground right next to me, blissfully watching the bitches, Lily and Becky, fight.

The morning is always forlorn. The very early morning at least. I love that feeling of being alone with only pale morning light and animals as your company. You get time to think about things you rarely get the chance to. I thought about my version of the human life cycle: Birth, love, death. The funny thing was, was that I found myself sitting naturally in the northeast direction. It doesn't have a meaning, it does to me, but it doesn't to the rest world. Finding myself sitting in that direction made me feel wistful. I always feel wistful, though. I smiled and thought that someone was sitting southwest outside, feeling just as wistful as me.

But I doubt that. The town northeast to me is a sleepy, quiet little town. Everyone I know from their would be fast asleep, and when they wake up, it'd be midday, and they'd all have to go to work.

I road my bike to that town. The streets were totally empty. Some shop keeps were just getting to work. I road past a friend's house, the house was quiet for once. I saw a cat too. I always see that cat around, I sometimes stop to pet her. She's really nice. I sat on a curb and played with her. I call her Gummo, it suits her. She reminds me of the bunny boy from the movie of the same name, a total vagabond. Gummo and I have that in common. And yes, I did this all while my parents were fast asleep.

I think it's worthwhile to be a vagabond. You get to see things you wouldn't see otherwise. If I wasn't a drifter, if I wasn't merely curious of the world around me, I wouldn't be an Alice. I would be just another Allison. No, Allison is not my name, it's just a term I use to describe girls that are just ordinary. I used to be called Allison by mistake a lot, I made sure people knew me as Alice. When I hear my name, I think no limits. When I hear the name Allison, I think boring, no point, bland. It'd be terrible to be considered bland.

I just can't stand it when people say they don't want to travel. It tells me that you are ignorant, unwilling to change, to adapt, and that you will never experience the beauty of sitting on a curb outside some beautiful, Victorian house petting a stray cat you've named Gummo. I travel everyday. I travel on my bike, going wherever my heart takes me. I do this all in the earliest hours of the morning when I cannot be seen, where I can take in the beauty. Where I can think about birth, love, and death. Where I can wonder about what's going on northeast from me. Where I can follow a cloud, and find myself meeting Gummo once again.

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