February 11
Today started out kind of gloomy. Midwinter gets like that sometimes. Maybe that's why people have Valentine's Day in February, so that they have something to look forward to.
I sat at my desk and just stared at my journal and clicked on the end of my pen while I was trying to write down yesterday's entry. I was still annoyed that Aric hadn't been home, and I kind of wished that I had stayed in his bed. That would have been a nice surprise for him.
I think.
Maybe he would have been mad, though.
I could sense that my head was starting to go around in circles again, so I decided to distract myself by doing something else—anything else.
Ruth's door was open, so I went down the hall to her room to visit with her for a bit. She was sitting on her bed, listening to a pair of headphones, but she put them down when she saw me and tapped on the mattress which is a human's way of saying 'come up.' It's kind of the opposite of scraping on the ground, and it had taken me a bit to get used to.
We talked about classes for a little bit—she's planning to get a degree in psychology—and then out of the blue she asked me if I ever wore pants, and I said that I really hadn't tried pants. I'd worn some flight suits before, for special duties, but those are whole-body suits. They're really hard to get into; it usually takes a couple helpers and some awkward rolling around on the ground to get everything in place. Plus they trap all the sweat in, and it's really easy to accidentally overheat in them.
She said that she thought I'd look great in pants like the ones she was wearing (they were lounge pants—lots of girls wear them around their rooms but don't wear them outside).
I said that it might be fun to give them a try—they did look comfortable, and whenever I'd brushed up against Peggy's leg or bumped her hip, they'd felt really nice. Almost downy.
The only problem was my tail, but Ruth said that wasn't a problem at all, because she had a pair of boy's lounge pants that she really liked, and they had a hole in the front, and if I wore them backwards, my tail could stick out that hole.
So then I agreed, and she got them out of her dresser and helped me get dressed. She wasn't a whole lot of help; by the time they were halfway up my legs she was giggling, and Ruth was pretty much in hysterics once we finally got my tail pulled through and had the waistband properly seated.
Then she had to roll up the cuffs so that the legs didn't drag on the ground and trip me up. I felt kind of silly, but her laughter had tapered off a bit and she said I was just the cutest thing she'd ever seen. She had me pose for her, then she scrunched up next to me and held her telephone out to take a selfie with me.
We were having a lot of fun, and it took my mind off other stuff. She asked me if I would go knock on Rebekka's door to see what she thought about my pants, and when she promised me that it wasn't mean, I agreed to do it.
Rebekka also thought that I was just adorable, and asked me to pose for a quick sketch. I was kind of in a hurry—it was getting uncomfortably close to poetry class—but nopony had ever wanted to make a drawing of me before, and I was flattered that she did.
She was a different person when she was making art. Most of the time when she walked around, her eyes were kind of unfocused, and she had the look of a newborn foal seeing the world for the first time. Plus, she normally wore loose, drape-y clothes that made her look smaller, somehow.
But when she sat on her little stool and started sketching, her movements were sure and certain, and her focus was completely on what she was doing. I'd seen that look on athletes before as well. It was a little trick of narrowing down everything else in the world, something that I didn't think I could do very well.
It didn't take her too long to finish and she thanked me and gave me a hug and then kissed me on the forehead, and I went back to Ruth's room to give her back her pants.
As I trotted to class, I thought that I ought to get to know her better. She was usually so quiet, though, it was sometimes hard to remember she was there.
The first poem we read was called Gathering Leaves, which reminded me of the Running of the Leaves. It's a bittersweet event; all the trees are magnificent yellows and reds and oranges when we start, and when we're done they're nothing but barren trunks and branches stretching up into the sky.
But it's important for the trees to be able to hibernate, and it's important to remember that winter is coming, even if you don't want it to.
Frost forgot to mention that autumn leaves don't taste good, either. They're dry and crunchy at first and after they've been on the ground for a little bit they're loamy and moldy and can make you sick if you eat them.
Then he read for us A Late Walk, which was another poem about autumn. It was kind of strange to be reading such poems in the midwinter, but it took me back. Not only to the walks and flights I'd taken, but to the time when I was getting ready for this trip, and didn't know what the future would hold. I was equal parts terrified and excited. I'd seen pictures and had lessons and thought I knew what I was getting into, but I hadn't really known much at all.
Even the most mundane things—like the aster flower in the poem—took on a new significance all of a sudden. I'd slowly gotten used to things over time, but now that I was thinking back on it, the little things like the bendy lamp on my desk or the excitement I'd had last weekend when I found canned anchovies stood out in a new light.
Then we finished the class with Acceptance, which I thought was a nice way to wrap things up. The last line is “let what will be, be.”
I thought I could do that.
So I wasn't too disappointed when I flew over to Aric's house and Sara said that he was at work again, and did I want to have her call him?
I was about to say yes, when I heard the announcer on the television say that they were going to return to the Democratic debate right after a brief commercial break, and I remembered that I had been meaning to watch it. Lots of people on campus were talking all the time about Democrats and Republicans and the Presidential election, and I hadn't even managed to see all the candidates yet.
Sara thought that was a great idea, so we sat down together and watched it through. It was a little more civil than the Republican debate had been; both candidates made somewhat clear pronouncements about what they were going to do in the future and what they had already done. Plus it wasn't as crowded, either.
Some of the stuff they said was worrisome, though. Just like the Republicans, they were certain that the government had broken, and that a new President was needed to make things right again.
Sara asked me what I thought, and I said that it had been eye-opening. I wasn't sure about all the issues that got brought up, so I didn't think I would be a good judge of who was the best. I told her that I thought that Hillary looked more confident, while Bernie waved around his arms a lot and tried to make himself look bigger.
But it's important to understand the issues. Sometimes former Wonderbolts get into assemblies, and they're usually terrible leaders. They don't know what ponies want, and just because they can boss around other Wonderbolts and fly really well doesn't mean that they're any good at taking care of political business.
I asked her who she was going to vote for, and she said that she was probably going to vote for Hillary, since she didn't think Bernie had a chance at winning, and she didn't want to throw away her vote. I told her that if everyone thought like that, it would be a self-fulfilling prophecy, and she laughed and said that maybe she'd reconsider.
While we were sitting on the couch talking, I heard a familiar rumbling sound, and then a pair of spotlights swept across the living room, and then I heard the truck door slam and he walked in the front door and just stopped when he saw me.
Then he kicked off his boots and sat down on the couch next to me and rubbed his hand through my mane.
He said that he was really tired—he'd been up until 4 am hanging lights, and had only gotten a couple of hours sleep before he'd had to go back to the theatre and finish up. They'd just gotten done with the first full run-through with light cues, and it had taken longer than anyone wanted.
I just put my head up to his shoulder and let him talk. I was perfectly happy to sit next to him on the couch while he complained about how his day had been. Sara excused herself and went up to her room.
Finally, he said that he was going to go to bed and I could join him if I wanted to. I told him that I had been hoping he would say that.
So we went up to his room and I got into bed while he took off all his clothes except his underwear (which covers a lot more than Peggy's does). He lay down on his back and I snuggled up against his side, and he fell asleep really quickly.
I had hoped for more, but I had resolved to let him lead, to let what will be, be.