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Moving On

On this trip Joe and I have begun to feel the stress of being together (with no other company so to speak) 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. We have also begun to understand each other a bit more, but not because of proximity or time, but because we have switched personality types. After I broke my arm I began to become less of a “doer” and more of a “thinker.” Joe in turn, became the one who got everything done and reminded me that my hat that I lost was in fact, still on my head. Because of this “Freaky Friday,” I became more understanding of Joe’s forgetfulness or seemingly inattentiveness; and I think Joe has grown to understand my moodiness and lack of patience.

Recently I have taken on more responsibilities and have become a slight “doer” again, and this has given me a taste of freedom, but it was bitter without the sweet. Pain usually follows my independence. The more I try to do myself, the more pain my broken wrist will deal out. This is really hard for me, because my dad taught me a long time ago that if I ever wanted freedom in this life, I had to be independent of others. Well, welcome to my worst nightmare. Not only can I not make money (quit my job for the trip), I can’t really help set up camp, , put on my gear, open my own bottles, but worst of all I can’t drive! I don’t have my car, and it is quite impossible to drive a motorcycle with only one hand, on top of not being able to do it with 2 hands. That was always my out in a rough situation; I would just get in my car and drive away, didn’t matter where, just away.

The Fight:
Well this morning frustration set in, and the pain along with it. My arm was doing really well considering we slept on the ground, and I overstretched myself as usual. I was trying to take down camp quickly, and doing a good job of it until the pain, and we were switching back personalities. I was beginning to taste independence, and then it was taken away from me and I was launched back into the shackles of dependence. Then the other side of the coin (Joe’s perspective) lashed against my own problems, and we had ourselves a power struggle between my newly found and lost ability to do things quicker than Joe could, and Joe’s newly found and lost helper turned nagger. If I had just not taken on so much, I could have been a lot more help in the long run. But I hurt myself, and Joe once again had to do most of everything by himself with me urging him on. This got to him and me equally, and we weren’t getting out of the camp on time like we had panned the previous night.

I told Joe to take his time in the shower since it didn’t matter when we left anymore now that the morning was lost to mid day… and he took longer than I thought “take your time” would take since it was in a moody sarcastic tone. When Joe finally came out of the shower, he asked me to get him his knife. “REALLY?” He wanted to trim his hair, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could either let him take longer by getting the knife himself, or I could get it and throw it at his feet (guess which one I did). Needless to say, by the time he came out of the bathroom I was beyond fuming. The anger had left, frustration had set in, and I was left in despair as I sat helpless next to the motorcycle.

For a long time now I had been talking about cutting my hair. It was too long for a trip like this, and it was always getting tangled in the wind, and flattened by the helmet, and washing such long hair with only one hand gotten really old. I suppose Joe remembered what I like to do when I feel helpless from stories about what I did to my hair one morning my senior year of high school, and by what I have Reivan do in the story we are writing… so he offered to chop my hair off. This, surprisingly, made everything okay again. We walked to the end of the dock, and for about half an hour, Joe took his knife to my hair, chopping it at strange intervals, cutting away our tension, and then scattering it into the wind. It was really freeing, because even though I wasn’t doing it myself, the care he took to making it look good eased my mood and his.

Now it is time for me to give my apologies to South Dakota. I don’t think I would have been so hard on its scenery had I not been writing about the first half of the state, after already seeing the second half. When I said earlier that Windows XP got their default background from Wisconsin, I had meant that I could see how they could frame such a picture at certain parts of the state. Well, while I might have been right about them possibly being able to get that shot, I was dead wrong about them actually taking the picture in Wisconsin, because after passing the Missouri River, we drove through that desktop background all the way to the Badlands.

But before we made it to the Badlands we made a few pit stops…
No, that is not a mountain in the distance, notice how it hangs on the left side… that is a wing to a wind turbine on a semi. Yeah, we only saw 2 wings pass by; I hope the other one didn’t fall off.
Then we stopped at Pioneer Auto where we saw the cop car from Police Academy and some sort of strange evil elephant thing.
Then our last break we stopped at 1880 Town!
Yeah, betcha you didn’t know people had T-rex pets in 1880. Here, Joe dumped the bike for the first time. He was backing up to get in a good position to park and we got hit by wind and tipped us over. I stomped my foot down to try and stabilize us, then Joe promptly stomped my foot down as well. Turning it back over with all of our stuff isn’t fun, Joe pushes from underneath, and then I step on the foot peg on the other side and push down while he pushes up.
Then we drove some more, and damn, it was still windy. It was also really cold, but I don’t mind the cold b/c that means we get to stay at a motel!
This place was cool b/c there was a café attached where we ordered “room service” that Joe ran out to the café to get when we thought it might be ready, and we watched The Holiday.

Posted by - Rain 22:16

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Vanessa, glad you described your feelings and sense of role changes because of the hurt arm. That was something I had wondered about, so seeing how you've dealt with it made me feel better. The photo of the wind turbine wing was also amazing!

by Sheryl S

I like the photo of you at your 'widow's ledge' waiting for Joe to return with your 'room service'

...fighting does suck...especially when it's with someone you care about...I feel like I'm always the one losing my patients over stupid stuff with John...but I feel the same way...like I know I could do it better on my own...but that's never true...

...Jennie once put it really well saying give her the task and the deadline and it will be done...maybe not how I would have done it...but it'll be done...don't micromanage...I'm still working on that...

...I'll have to look up the picture of you with short hair...

by CoreyAnn

i love corey calling your window a widow's ledge, it's like the old widows walk balconies - she's such an architect!
i love that you guys 'cut your tension and scattered it to the winds' - nice writing! beautiful metaphor!
did you save the hair for your baby book? ;)

by georgi r

Joe asked me if I wanted to, and I thought about it, but no. Hair is hair, and we have pictures to remember it by.

by - Rain

and itll grow back. I'm surprised you guys haven't been fighting more, since its always just the two of you. Once your arm is better, it'll get easier. Don't push yourself too hard, you're wounded!

by Laurr

Yea thats why I've been buzzing my hair off. Its not worth the hassle. Much more freeing to not have to worry about it. I love not needing to comb or worry about it in the morning (cause im a smelly kid)

by buddy-JC

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