raiding windmills
april 9th, 2000

gas station clerks are convinced that i've discovered the fountain of 
youth. every other evening, i waltz in with a five dollar bill to buy a 2 
liter of pepsi and a pack of cigarettes for my mother, and they always 
take my license, and stare at it over and over again, and look at me, and 
stare at it again, and sometimes they will even comment on how young i 
look, how i could not possibly be twenty years old, and they were sure i 
was carded all the time. twenty years old, and with my new haircut i 
sometimes look near twelve. i can only imagine what thoughts go through 
the grocers' minds when they ring up my baby food and formula and diapers.

and yet, i stare in the mirror, and i feel ancient, i feel as old as the 
mountains, and older still. sometimes the words that spill from my mouth 
are little gems of wisdom that surprise me that it was even my mind they 
emerged from. sometimes i feel too old for this body, too young for my 
mind. and sometimes the fiery imagination within finds my thoughts and 
musings too cumbersome to carry. i feel as if i have a dozen different 
articles of clothing, all ill-fitted, making my personality clumsy and 
awkward. i fumble through life with my faerie wings and my glitter dust, 
with the million of glow-in-the-dark stickers on the inside of my 
automobile, with my quests for quests and my mind that turns windmills 
into giants, and giants into windmills. the homebody gypsy, the wise 
child, the mixture of opposites which only makes sense when placed 
together in the mismatched patchwork that is me. "there's no sense like 
nonsense," chris always said to me. the carnival that was never a 
carnival. my book in the floor of my brother's room, untouched for a few 
years now.

it's been a long time since i've gone chasing windmills. i miss it. i have 
responsibilities, now, towards security and stability, conquering merely 
the giants of medical bills a small slice at a time (they grow smaller 
every month, it just takes a while.) my knightly duties are transformed 
into motherly duties, to love and to honor, protect and care for the 
lovely starfish princess asleep in the next room. but they are still 
adventures. and not any less knightly.

i watched don quixote tonight and was given my old eyes again. the eyes 
that were not preoccupied with senseless worries and decision making. the 
eyes that could watch the stars of the evening, count the planets in view, 
see the silver of moon turn into a cheshire cat grin, and stand in 
amazement of the trees, the night wind, the streetlights, and now. being 
amazed at even the ability to see. i don't stop to recognize it as often 
as i should anymore. i'm too preoccupied. life can do that to you. blur 
your vision - cause a distraction. you forget the important things, that 
wisdom you learned in your youth. that your adventures will never end as 
long as you have the ability to dream; that windmills can be easily turned 
into giants, and giants into simple windmills; that a true knight must 
fight for honor, love, and justice always. and to live, and to not be 
afraid of living.

thank you, don quixote. one day, i will learn to conquer my windmills, 
too.