[Morning freewrite]
This is my last week of work.  This is two days after I started hiking last
year.  This is a time for joy and breath.

Yes breath.  To breathe in the air and try to adapt one's body to living!
The joy of being alive runs through me today.  What about tomorrow?  What
about tomorrow!

I have been thinking that there is nothing quite so blessed as a good
companion.  If there are any good companions out there, please let me know.
I'll wait for you for quite a while as long as I know that you exist.

What is it that is making me go where I am going?  It is the need to move.
It is the need to socialize with people who don't mind that I like to dance
in dresses, hike naked, wear my hair long, write poetry, evince feminine
qualities and masculine qualities all at the same time.  It is the need to
be accepted among a group.  To not have to hide who I am... Even though I do
not know who I am... To not have to hide those things that explore who I am.

I have said that I'm the straightest person I know.  If I was a woman, I'd
only fuck men.  I'm no longer sure of that statement.  I think I might still
be attracted to women.  It's their personality.  I love the personality
women have.  Few men have the same.

It is a common failing that we turn out like our parents.  Or perhaps it's
not a failing.  But it is a dissappointment.  We feel at a certain age that
are parents are not as good as they should be.  As they could be.  That they
are less than perfect.  And being raised to be good, we try to outdo them --
be better than this example that they set.  So when we turn out less than
perfect, start doing some of the things that we considered failings in
them... We find that we are less than perfect too.  That we are less than
ideal.

The feeling I have when experiencing hiking in its purest -- if I had a
dream that represented hiking or had one perfect moment on the trail that
suddenly reflected why I love it it would be this.  A warm day.  Sunshine
warming my arms as they swing through the air.  Morning.  Just a hint of
coolness in the air.  Topping a ridge, the wind strikes me.  Not enough to
chill, just enough to cool.  And a vista for miles.  As if the wind had
wafted the vision to my ears.  The scent of spruce drifts lazily nearer.
The noise of tree limbs swaying and the wind ruffling my hair around my
ears.

[End morning freewrite]