Queen of the Mountain

Ice covered the shoveled walk from the house to the milking barn, and the path was slick with it. The predawn air was cupped by a dark sky chiseled with frosted chips of white stars. Each gulp was like sipping chilled razor blades that sliced, then numbed, the throat being expelled in a frigid steam. This was the kind of weather Shane Wyatt lived for, the below-freezing temperatures that mother nature provided for only a measly four months. This was ski season.

Taking care to watch her step, she made her way to the bus stop at the end of her driveway. Unlike her fellow ski bums waiting at the stop, she was whistling between her teeth. She just plain loved the frosty still hour before a winter sunrise. The promise of a new day, of fresh powder, of first tracks, all waited for her at the top of the mountain. All she had to do was get there.

Smiling at the few teenagers awake enough to lift their heads to make eye contact, she heaved her snowboard over her shoulder in an attempt to better balance the boots and bag she carried. A feat not so easily accomplished by her delicate frame.

Upon first glance, Shane looked nothing like the typical snowboard obsessed teens that crowded around her to board the bus. She was small, one of the shortest in her class, with a slight build and long, raven black hair. With her strikingly red lips and creamy white complexion, she looked more like a fairy princess than a nationally ranked snowboarder. That was, until she strapped on her board. No one called her a princess then.

Finally boarding the bus, she smiled at the driver and made her way to the back, searching for an open seat.
“Shane! Back here, I got a seat saved for ya.”
Shane’s stomach fluttered. She knew that voice. Every girl in Boulder knew that voice. She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the pushing bodies and miscellaneous ski equipment til, ah. There he was.

Peyton Clairmont, shredding slopes and capturing hearts since the day he was born. She sent him what she hoped passed as a full-wattage smile, and made her way to the back of the bus.

“Hey, thanks!” Shane threw her bag and boots on the rack above and plopped down next to him. “I don’t know if I’d have found a spot, it’s more crowded than usual today.”
“For the last day of Queen of the Hill? You’re lucky you even made it on the bus. It’s supposed to get crazy today.” He gave her his famous half smile and winked at her. “You’re lucky you’re such a big deal. I don’t save seats for just anyone, you know.”

Shane laughed. “Yes, well there are six other girls in the finals with me. So, let’s demote that to semi-big deal. I don’t want to get a big head just yet.”
“Well, the seat wasn’t saved specifically for you. You’re just the first finalist to get on the bus. Ow!” Laughing, he rubbed the arm she punched with all her force. “You know, for a pipsqueak you’re kinda strong.”
Shane just smiled ahead and they rode the rest of the way making casual conversation.
“So, you worried about the race?” Peyton asked when they finally reached the top.
“After what happened last year?” Shane sighed and looked out the window. “What do you think?”
“Just keep your eyes on the prize. What happened last year was last year. This is this year. You got this. Hey,” he shoved her arm so she’d look at him, “we’re all rooting for you.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, appreciate it.”
The bus came to a stop and Peyton and Shane slowly made their way off.
“Hey, be careful out there, you hear?” Peyton have her a friendly tug of her ponytail and was off, leaving Shane to stare after him. She shook her head, trying to clear out all distraction. Now was not the time to lose sight of her goal. She took one last steadying breath and began to make her way to the competitors stand to check in. Peyton was right. What happened last year was in the past. She needed to stay focused on the present, on the now.
She narrowed her eyes as she neared the stand, speaking of the now.

“Oh, hey Shay. I see you made it, too.”

“Tansy,” Shane nodded in recognition, but that was all she gave to the stunning blond standing in front of her in line. No smile. She didn’t deserve it. Not after the stunt she pulled last season at the previous Queen of the Mountain. Shane gave her name to the registrar and turned around just in time glimpse of Tansy disappearing through the crowd. She was beautiful, alright. A much more willowy 5’ 9” to Shane’s short 5’2”, everywhere Tansy stepped, she made a statement. People took notice of her. Of her long legs, her flowing blonde hair, her perfect complexion. It was this perfect package that made it easy to overlook the fact that Tansy’s expressed emotion never reached her ice blue eyes. They were dead. That should’ve been Shane’s first warning sign, but she, like everyone else had fallen for Tansy’s tinkling laughter and thousand watt smile. But, again, that was last year. She was wiser now, she’d been tricked once, but once was enough. Trusting Tansy was not a mistake Shane planned on making again.

What had she been thinking anyway? Shane shook her head and snagged her uniform and number from the table. Trusting a fellow finalist with her drink. Trusting Tansy, of all people, with her ‘celebratory beer’ for making finals. How could she have been so stupid?

 Shane kicked open the door of the locker room. Well, she knew better this time. No cheap tricks, no foul play, were going to keep her from competing for the title of Queen of the Hill this year.

As soon as she saw Tansy enter into the competitors locker room, she put her headphones in. She didn’t need that kind of negative distraction right now. Better to tune her out. Shane donned her uniform, slipped on her boots, and made her way out the door. Giving the full length mirror on the wall a quick glance to make sure everything was in place, she left the building and was immediately engulfed by the chaotic world that was professional snowboarding. Banners and signs of all shapes and colors, screaming fans, flashing cameras all bombarded her as she trudged towards the snowmobile that would take her to the starting gate. Throwing her snowboard on the back, she swung her leg over and held on to the operator as he started up the engine. Her stomach flipped as the snowmobile lurched into action. It was really happening. She was really going to do it. She thanked the operator and snagged her gear from the sled. This was her time. She entered the tent and began her warm up exercises.

Tansy, as always, was the last to arrive at the starting gate.

The gate operator greeted her at the gate, checking her credentials and hitting the button to let her enter into the competitors warm up area. “Five minutes til go time Tansy, cutting it a little close, aren’t we?”
She merely sent him one of her million dollar smiles and moved past. “Five minutes or five hours, I still know I’ll at least finish the race,” She sent Shane a pointed look and smirked. “That’s more than others can say.”
Shane could feel the anger boiling up. More than anything she wanted to hit her. Hard. In her pretty perfect complexioned face. But it wouldn’t serve her purpose. Shane would get kicked out of the competition and Tansy would once again be named Queen of the Mountain. Like hell she’d let that happen.

“At least I don’t need to roofie people to win,” Shane mumbled under her breath as she passed Tansy at the gates. She couldn’t see Tansy’s face through the goggles and gear she’d donned, but she doubted she was smiling now. “So, here we are again. Only this time, I’m in top form. No cheating. No drugged beer. Just you and me,” It was Shane’s turn to smile, “good luck.”
Shane turned to position herself in the gate and looked to the fans and banners below. This was her year. This was her time.
“Racer’s on your mark!”
Shane gripped the cold metal of the gates. Felt the words vibrate through her hands.
“Get set!”
She smiled. The time had come.
“BANG!”

Time to overthrow the queen.

Big Kid Books

I always enjoy coming to an honors seminar class. I love the discussion. Being a philosophy major, I've always enjoyed hearing other's opinions and their explanation behind them. Tonight, the topic that piqued my interest was dealing with reading in a time of distraction. There's actually a book that my english teacher in high school gave me: The Pleasures of Reading in an Age of Distraction, when I expressed my insecurities on whether or not I was "reading the right things."
So, how do we know we're reading the right things? As Professor Sexson brought up today, it's fine and dandy to see 12 year-olds reading Harry Potter, but not as much when the reader is several decades older. "We need to grow up."
But to what extent are we expected to grow up? I remember my junior year in high school fretting over this very thing. "Mr. Umphrey, you need to give me a reading list. There's just too many books out there to choose from! How will I ever know if I'm reading the right things?"
That is when he gave me the aforementioned book... and pretty much told me to chill out. It's not so much what you read, so long as you're reading.
Is that statement completely accurate, though? Not to be too judgemental, but if one only reads lower level books like Twilight and 50 Shades of Grey how can they ever hope to experience the enlightenment that comes from reading more difficult literature, being exposed to the ideas of great philosophers and writers of the past?
In my experience, I've decided the best path to take is one of moderation. I love reading about philosophy. Hegel, Descartes, Solzehnitsyn, there's nothing I enjoy more than exploring the thoughts and theories of others who, let's face it, are much more intelligent and dedicated than I will ever hope to be. However, after a while, it gets a little overwhelming. The brain gets tired. The focus weakens. And you find yourself rereading the same paragraph over and over again, understanding it less with each attempt. This is where romance novels come in.
Yes, I am not ashamed to admit it. I read romance novels. And I love them just as much as Descartes' meditations or The Gulag Archapelago. Do they serve as a tool for deep discussion? Do they provide me with a source of enlightenment? No, but they do serve their purpose, a purpose I doubt any human being could survive without and hope to reach eudaimonia (sorry, Aristotle reference): cheap entertainment. Sometimes you just want to laugh and have to think to deeply about it.

So, like with most everything in this world, moderation is key. Yes, you're now a grown-up and are expected to read "grown-up" things, but I caution you not to get too caught up in the pretentiousness that seems to be more common place the older we get. Read what you want... keeping the rule of moderation in mind.

Please note, however, there are some forms of "books" that DO NOT qualify as literature... perhaps better known as 50 Shades of Gray. There is no valid excuse for reading this.

My Dream

This dream takes place in a sunny room somewhere -a room I've never been in before. The furnishings of the room seem to be in constant flux: sometimes a couch, sometimes just thick carpet. While other times the furnishings of the room are more detailed: paintings, coffee table, television and shelves holding some of my personal belongings. The only other person in the room is a guy I'd been having a mild flirtation with for sometime, but was too afraid to let him know that I was interested in him. We're sitting on the couch, doing nothing in particular. Just being. He's quite a bit taller than me, so when he puts his arm around me I am slowly enveloped into his body. Safe. Warm. And that is how we stay for the entirety of the dream. Talking, watching a movie, napping, we remain in each other's embrace until I wake up from the dream.

And that is all that happens in the dream. Just being with someone that I trust completely, without question, and being accepted. Wanted. There really is no better dream.