here is a true story

I woke up this morning after fantastic dreams of landscape design, sliding walled trenches and a softly lit leather lounge.
After that, though, Sunday fell. Hard. The sky was overcast. It was later than I'd hoped. Climbing plans for the day fell through and the family I live with was in a FRENZY to go to the grocery store. I continued to sink into a state of complete indecisive despondency. I dilly-dallied in the house for an hour, left my room a mess and swept out the door with arms full of necessities for the day, including books, sketch pad, guitar and new ipod, which dropped on the concrete and broke. (It still works, just a bit shattered around the edges.) The van, which I'd thought was mostly over its incessant honking bug, was not. Between bursts of horn on the highway and me banging on the steering column, I made it to the trail head I'd finally settled on hiking alone. It's supposed to be good for a person, right, to spend some time alone in the wilderness when the universe doesn't seem to be aligned correctly?
For a while, I convinced myself it was. Moving water, tall red canyon walls, signs of spring. I clomped along in hiking boots and tried to train my thoughts towards creative projects, everything I had to be happy about and day dreams of a Martha perfect world. I kept hoping to turn a corner and see a leprechaun under a tree, ready to give me his magical vest and grant me three wishes. Alas, all that happened was that I didn't reach the end of the canyon and my mother called in the only spot I could have possibly gotten reception. She wanted me to help her quit smoking and then my father got on the phone and told me I was WRONG about standard car maintenance. After that, I gave up trying to save the day. I scrunched my face into a perma-scowl and stomped along in my boots, not caring about the new blister or fragile desert eco-system. I wondered momentarily if karma was going to get me but decided karma could just as soon go fuck itself too.
I lost the trail. I swore. I got scratched in the FACE by tamarisk along the creek bed. I thrashed my way through the underbrush until I had to cross the creek to go on. Obviously, I would just grab the woody shrubs on the opposite side and pull myself across. It would have been easier, certainly, and physically more probable to find a narrower spot to cross, or even here, to run and jump. But no, I would use my SHEER STRENGTH and the integrity of small riparian plants to hoist me to the opposite shore. FAIL. The branch I grabbed wasn't strong enough and as I scramble-reached for another, first my feet and then my butt slid into the water. Wet underwear. I crawled out quick like a bunny, before the backpack and thighs also got wet and stood in the bushes, shaking my fist at the sky. Curses!

After that, I laughed at myself in the way you do when you know you're supposed to. I finished the hike out, going a little bit slower and actually back-tracking when I was defeated by an alternate route that ended in a giant boulder. The van still honked on the way home and the sun didn't come out until the evening, after I'd cycled through all the shitty emotions one can experience in a day by crying for three hours.

The end.