I'm rambling.
I really enjoyed having a snow day yesterday. Three days a week is not bad at all, and I'm doing really well in school, but sometimes it still feels really pointless. Mostly, I was just too cold to get out of bed at 8. There isn't that much to do this semester, it's just lectures and reading. I have tests and papers every once in a while, but it's nothing compared to the two papers a week for comp and daily quizzes in calc (not to mention the awful, awful tests) last semester.
But also, I really enjoy snow itself. It's so pretty, even if it's way too cold. I like it much better before it's been shoveled and salted and driven on, though, because that sort of ruins the beauty. I remember, when I was little and the snow first came down, it always looked so nice that I didn't want to ruin it with my footprints. Sometimes, I still feel that way. But sometimes, I just want to go outside and walk all around and feel the snow crunch under my feet (because you don't really hear it, you feel it, in your heart, like Sarah said) and maybe build a giant snowman, like Laur and I always used to, and then Stevie would knock it down and we'd cry. Except now, I wouldn't cry. I'd probably help him destroy it and laugh and I'd be too amused to notice the cold. Because I used to be able to ignore it.
Anyway, I went to the Grind last night, because that's what we do during the week, and there was this guy playing guitar. He was good for a while, but then it got sort of repetitive and sort of depressing. I think he was a little bitter about not having a valentine. Maybe if he said "God damn" less, he could get a valentine. But I suppose I have little room to criticize. Of course, that's never stopped me before.
I finished my self-portrait for beginning painting last night. I can't decide if it looks like me or not, and I don't want to show it to anyone yet, either. Something with the nose just isn't right, and it really, really bothers me. Noses are the main reason I don't do portraits if I can avoid them. So I'm probably not really finished; I'll just keep working on it until it looks right. But it'll just prevent me from reading the Iliad, which I'm behind in anyway. It bores me.
But also, I really enjoy snow itself. It's so pretty, even if it's way too cold. I like it much better before it's been shoveled and salted and driven on, though, because that sort of ruins the beauty. I remember, when I was little and the snow first came down, it always looked so nice that I didn't want to ruin it with my footprints. Sometimes, I still feel that way. But sometimes, I just want to go outside and walk all around and feel the snow crunch under my feet (because you don't really hear it, you feel it, in your heart, like Sarah said) and maybe build a giant snowman, like Laur and I always used to, and then Stevie would knock it down and we'd cry. Except now, I wouldn't cry. I'd probably help him destroy it and laugh and I'd be too amused to notice the cold. Because I used to be able to ignore it.
Anyway, I went to the Grind last night, because that's what we do during the week, and there was this guy playing guitar. He was good for a while, but then it got sort of repetitive and sort of depressing. I think he was a little bitter about not having a valentine. Maybe if he said "God damn" less, he could get a valentine. But I suppose I have little room to criticize. Of course, that's never stopped me before.
I finished my self-portrait for beginning painting last night. I can't decide if it looks like me or not, and I don't want to show it to anyone yet, either. Something with the nose just isn't right, and it really, really bothers me. Noses are the main reason I don't do portraits if I can avoid them. So I'm probably not really finished; I'll just keep working on it until it looks right. But it'll just prevent me from reading the Iliad, which I'm behind in anyway. It bores me.