A year ago today I moved to Berkeley. I packed up my house with Myles on North Street, and moved west, thinking I would be there for a while
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i'm back up at the farm. i'm pretending that i only have to be planing the garden, not busting through the 15,000 things stacked up on my to-do by friday list. i just want to work in the garden and ride horses through the woods.
i'm tired and content... and waiting for sam to get here.
i keep saying that if shit keeps going the way it's going i'm going to have to turn away from social work, and become an abortion provider. i wonder what my breaking point will be. maybe i should not wait around for a breaking point and just head in the direction of reproductive health now
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"I can see why people fall in love with you on the farm. when you were herding the horses and they were charging right at us, I fell in love with you. you were so confident, so in your element. you're supposed to be a cowgirl."
i remembered that i fucking love driving. particularly my car. i got in it this afternoon and it was all sun-warmed and i drove with the windows down. i even love the way it smells.
i've been out here for a week and so far it's awesome, hard, wonderful, lonely, peaceful, necessary, and exhausting. i'm walking everywhere, getting a feel for the place, constructing my mental map, taking it all in
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