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animal_quillsAfter an entire winter of disappointingly (is that a word?) warm temperatures and nasty chilling slush, it's finally February, almost spring, and now the sky decides to dump snow on us. Yay!
Call me crazy. I get the opposite of what most survival instincts will tell you.
Find warmth! Eat a lot of food! Hibernate! Fly south!
Nope.
Fly! Fly! Fly! is what I hear.
My computer desk is situated facing the wall, and the door that leads to our back yard (our back yard is a parking lot - we live in an apartment) is to my right. I keep glancing out as I write this, pausing, sometimes for minutes at a time, to look at the 8+ inches of snow and the sleet that is sprinkling gently against the windowpanes.
This is not a sparkly, crystalline, entrancing winter - this is grey, cloudly, wet, bitter cold, windy, completely unbearable... and completely alluring. The cold is invigorating. The cold makes you want to keep moving! keep going! keep flying!
Call me crazy. But I sit here at the desk, making numerous typos because all I can focus on is the snow and flying, flying, flying, and the invisible wings that grow from my shoulder blades are itching to be used - but I can't. Because they're not real. So instead of flying off through the cold like the crazypersonbird I am, I sit here typing about flying off through the cold, because it's the next best thing.
Bah.
Call me crazy. I get the opposite of what most survival instincts will tell you.
Find warmth! Eat a lot of food! Hibernate! Fly south!
Nope.
Fly! Fly! Fly! is what I hear.
My computer desk is situated facing the wall, and the door that leads to our back yard (our back yard is a parking lot - we live in an apartment) is to my right. I keep glancing out as I write this, pausing, sometimes for minutes at a time, to look at the 8+ inches of snow and the sleet that is sprinkling gently against the windowpanes.
This is not a sparkly, crystalline, entrancing winter - this is grey, cloudly, wet, bitter cold, windy, completely unbearable... and completely alluring. The cold is invigorating. The cold makes you want to keep moving! keep going! keep flying!
Call me crazy. But I sit here at the desk, making numerous typos because all I can focus on is the snow and flying, flying, flying, and the invisible wings that grow from my shoulder blades are itching to be used - but I can't. Because they're not real. So instead of flying off through the cold like the crazypersonbird I am, I sit here typing about flying off through the cold, because it's the next best thing.
Bah.
no subject
Date: 2007-02-13 09:09 pm (UTC)