Playing Hookey

I write from Ogilvie from my Mom's lap top I'm hoping to snatch when I leave. My good old lappy's keys are falling out and it makes it really hard to type, even though there has been much going on to share these days.

I played hookie from work today. I really can't afford to, not this close to the end with volunteer hours to make up, but after a solid 9 hours of sleep, my alarm went off at 5:45am, I shirked against the sound of the bitter wind blowing at my windows, thought of what 10 hours out in that would do to me, and said, "Oh hell no."

My dad picked me up and we came home for Thanksgiving early.

Now I'm here, safe and warm in the darkness, when I would have just now been finishing my day outside in the dark, and hoping against the odds to make the train by six fifteen. Ha.

Two weeks left of the Corps, then full time at the Barnes and Noble Cafe.

I have great aspirations for winter time. We'll see if I follow through.
If I don't, it means it must not really be what my heart truly wants. It seems that that's the advice I receive consistently. "Well Lily, what feels right?" I hate that... I just want answers.

Now?

I think it's happening.

I think I might actually go to the Arizona Renaissance Festival.

Last year, I could have gone to North Carolina. Maybe you remember. Caught up in the Minnesota Festival's magic, I almost got spirited away. Had I gone, it would have been fine, but instead, I stayed and made quite the life for myself here.

I've got Morris Dancers. That right there is really enough to get me to stay here forever. Stay, dance, sing, blow... What else could I ask for?

A whole year has passed since I almost DID IT. I am in the Conservation Corps now. I have worked harder than I have, and probably ever will.

I've loved the Corps. It has provided me with everything I hoped it would. I feel so much connection to, and pride for the CCC, and the Corps it is today. If I didn't know I would make such a horrible crew leader, I'd sign on again. Who knows. Maybe I still will.

I'm still 23. Young. Third Grade in my playground metaphor, where K-3 get a recess, 4-6, and then in 7th grade, no more recess.

Right now, I am king of the playground. I conquered college. I owned Ameri-corps. I'm young, and hot, and full of potential. Next year, at 24 the pressure of, "What's next? hmmm?" Will be even stronger. I don't even want to get into 25!

Every time a lease, a term, a semester ends, the question is raised, "Now?"

Is this the break where I take off, travel the circuit, write the novel that will pay me to go to grad school, and earn the stories my Children will fall asleep to?

Like my Father's tales of Orphie the Sheltie, thumbed rides to Canada, and fence posts full of quarters in Florida.

Yeah, I'll have my adventures here. Minneapolis is the heartland.

But I am a Morris.
Which, I looked up today, could possibly stem simply from someone adopting, "Morris" as a surname after having it be used as a nickname  for being dark and swarthy.

Swarthy.

Does "Swarthy" mean desk job?
Or does it mean hop in a car with David Coppafeel's sister, go to AZ, pitch a tent and live a fantasy?

Who knows. Perhaps Sir Knight will be there. Lost, and forlorn after his, "Invested" has left for a greater land holder?

I do know there will be jugglers. Performers. Musicians. Acrobats. Potters.

If they have a talent show, I, a stranger, will play, "Carnival of Venice." Flawlessly. From Memory. ...?

They will know I am one of them.
Only then will I be a true blood festie.

Anyway. Think about it.
Corps now till December 14. Holiday season at the Mall through January something. Pay two months rent a head of time. Go to Arizona during the WORST part of winter. Come back, and THEN figure out what's next.

Yes?