such a weird day....

it was bitterly cold today. cold and dry, not any humidity at all. the best kind of cold. it cuts down to your very bones, to your core. it is strange, but i have always felt alive in the cold. warmth and humidity makes me feel dull and sluggish, but the cold charges my beating heart, sends my blood racing through my veins like an errant sled down an icy way. i can feel winter on the wings of the cold air. i can feel the snow and ice in my numb fingers.

strangely, i have always felt this way. when i was little and i lived in the country, miles away from any real city, i would walk outside during the winter. in the night, in the cold. the road was icy and the moon shone. it was almost like some inverse daylight, the way that moon shone, casting cold unfeeling shadows. i felt my breath alive in my chest, spinning, vital. my feet slipping and sliding and flying on that ice. running, landing in the snowbanks. staring at the skeletons of cornstalks, their shaddows on the perfectly untouched snow. the dark looming shapes of the trees swinging in the whistling wind. my breath coming out in slow nebulous clouds languidly spreading into the navy black openness. the way the stars felt, so close and yet so far away, an immaculate needlework of godly perfection.

i'd walk slowly home. i'd take off my coat, little hat, gloves, boots. i'd brush the snow off my nightshirt that came down to my knees. my legs would be pink and wet from the melted snow. my nose red and shiny, as if i was already plauged by that damnable acne. my dog max would greet me with a wagging tail, licking my face, sweet dog breath. i'd creep up the stairs, into my room. crawl under the covers. the warmth of my bed feels better after a walk in my wonderland.i have always loved the contrast of absoultes. the tension that they give is a dance, a simple joy that sings to my heart.

i could sure use some louie right now. he was the first jazz trumpeter i ever loved. perhaps one of the best. i used to cry whenever they played that song. i don't know why, i just did.

outside, the sky is beautiful. cold grey slate turning to purple to bloodred to firey orange. "red sky in morning, sailors take warning." i miss sailing. living on the water. things sure aren't in very much of a hurry on the water. you take your time, you think. it is just you and life, you and nature. you get along, you have an agreement. not like things are today. the nights are beautiful cloudless; you see every star ever thrust into existance. your mind sprawls, tumbling along each constellation. night turns to day, and it is a veritable burst of color, like fireworks. like it is right now, except there isn't a power plant spewing smoke into the sky.

but my favorites are the sunsets. a sunset is so much wiser, more beautiful because it has experienced everything in its own absoultes. to watch it die, knowing it will be reborn the following morning, after the dance of stars.

i'm such a lump

i've done nothing at all this weekend. except do homework, watch movies, and watch southpark marathons. oh, and sleep. yes, much sleep has been done on my part. hopefully i'm getting better. i still feel really tired. i wish the siedschlag hall director would freaking call me back so i can know when i can move. half my things are all packed, and the other half are just sitting haphazardly around my room. i hate that everything is so messy.

i want to go back to sleep. i don't want to have to worry about these STUPID philosophy of religion papers that are due tuesday. there are three of them. i should finish at least two today. my head isn't about me though. who the heck gives a crap about the ontilogical argument? is how the 10 comandments relate to boethius's proofs neccessary for fulfillment in this life? NO.

my head hurts. i'm aggravated. i'm tired. and i am sick of feeling like a lump. i'm glad classes start again tomorrow, even though i'll probably still feel like a pile of dog crap. my throat is raw. no body get too close, my germs suck. my stomach bubbles with toxic waste. ew.back to sleep.

it isn't football unless it is flicking freezing

so the family came up to hang with me this weekend. they came, they saw, they bickered. that is the way they roll. nick wouldn't stop talking for anything. constantly jabbering away, followed me everywhere. and i loved it! i missed him very much, even though i don't think i told him that. he is dating this really insane girl who writes him letters saying she would kill herself if he ever dumped her. aside from that fact, she is a liar, and i don't abide by them. ever.

my parents loved the concert. mom's favorite; 3rd mvt of shostakovich. nick's; 4th mvt. dad i think just liked it all. he kept saying that he was so proud of me, which was great. they see the work i am doing. it makes them happy. their rationale; if they didn't believe in me to some degree, they wouldn't be paying for college. well, whatever we can afford anyways.

i'm sick, and i don't know what it is. i'm just really sore everywhere. tender. being sick doesn't mean the work i have to do goes away. i just need to suck it up.

it is freaking late

i'm listening to cheesy frank sinatra and brian mcknight songs. it is so so late and i am not capable of sleeping right now. i wish i didn't have such a rough time sleeping these days. my mind is rife with extemporaneous stuff, it seems like. i can't get my brain to shut up for two seconds to just sleep. my body is so exhausted, but my brain just goes and goes. even when i do sleep, i am exhausted.today the ying string quartet came in for a master class, and it was completely amazing. i loved it. i didn't know how famous they were so i asked david ying for a lesson. i'm not usually that ballsy, but i just did it. and you know what? he said sure. so going for it pays off sometimes. just sometimes.i'm still trying to figure out why i did though. i don't have anything to play. i suck at what i am trying to learn. it is because david ying with the ying quartet doesn't come around every day. that is why.