Winter's taken flight, sweeping dark cold air out to sea, spring is born, comes the day say I
Things I meant to spend this afternoon doing: writing.
Things I have not spent very much of this afternoon doing at all: writing.
Okay, so writing here is neither fic-writing nor original-book-writing, but it is writing, so... does that count? Wait wait, I know this one! No, it does not. Am I going to do it anyway? Of course.
It's one of those days out there - it's still sweater-cold, and boots-wet, but out the fifth floor window things are all blue sky and melty-ice river and the day I am bizarrely most reminded of is this one day at the end of Artz Haüs year when I wore bare legs and bare arms and sandals that squished in the mud, and we sat on the picnic table out in the yard and we walked in the sunshine over to South to pay phone bills and it was wonderful because it was spring but so bittersweet because it was so close to the end. And I don't know why today makes me think of that day, except that I guess I can feel the same current of unmistakably-spring and oh, I love the in-between seasons!
I'm supposed to be writing an Italian test now but I missed all of chapter six because I was going to drop the course, and then I'd missed the full-year course drop date so I couldn't. So I missed the chapter and then I didn't really study so I'm going to write the test on Wednesday instead. I just have to read the chapter, it's going to be fine. I'm doing so well in that class but I feel like I'm not really learning anything.
I am HUNGRY HUNGRY HUNGRY. And (other than the fact that I have stupid choir tonight and this is one of those terms where the only reason I haven't quit choir yet is because I know I'm likely to regret it next term when I start to really miss it) also right this moment, I am happy.
But I am still not really-writing!
Things I have not spent very much of this afternoon doing at all: writing.
Okay, so writing here is neither fic-writing nor original-book-writing, but it is writing, so... does that count? Wait wait, I know this one! No, it does not. Am I going to do it anyway? Of course.
It's one of those days out there - it's still sweater-cold, and boots-wet, but out the fifth floor window things are all blue sky and melty-ice river and the day I am bizarrely most reminded of is this one day at the end of Artz Haüs year when I wore bare legs and bare arms and sandals that squished in the mud, and we sat on the picnic table out in the yard and we walked in the sunshine over to South to pay phone bills and it was wonderful because it was spring but so bittersweet because it was so close to the end. And I don't know why today makes me think of that day, except that I guess I can feel the same current of unmistakably-spring and oh, I love the in-between seasons!
I'm supposed to be writing an Italian test now but I missed all of chapter six because I was going to drop the course, and then I'd missed the full-year course drop date so I couldn't. So I missed the chapter and then I didn't really study so I'm going to write the test on Wednesday instead. I just have to read the chapter, it's going to be fine. I'm doing so well in that class but I feel like I'm not really learning anything.
I am HUNGRY HUNGRY HUNGRY. And (other than the fact that I have stupid choir tonight and this is one of those terms where the only reason I haven't quit choir yet is because I know I'm likely to regret it next term when I start to really miss it) also right this moment, I am happy.
But I am still not really-writing!