I realized while making my bed that I have a strange assortment of stuffed animals on it. Five cats, a dog, a floppy-eared rabbit, a fawn, and an Easter bear wearing a rabbit-ear hat. I'm allergic to cats, I don't even like dogs, and Easter was several months ago. I don't know.

At least my gender-confused Halloween stuffed ghost Boris has been put away for the season. I used to keep her wrapped in my peacock shawl for an extra punch of pizazz.

The majority of literature isn't what it's cracked up to be, up close and personal.

Oh no, not 5 AM again. Go away, you!!

Construction men are cutting down the trees behind my apartment. I can see the sundered branches clearly through my windows, all of which look out in that direction. Now, instead of a dense foliage occluding the urban sprawl that lies beyond the courtyard, there are stumps of trees. I don't know why this is happening. Just like I didn't understand why, two summers ago, they cut down the sheltering trees that lined a dozen blocks, providing pedestrians with shade and a procession of verdant, leafy arms.

Now they are attaching cables to the last tree and starting to pull it down. My heart hurts. I bite my lip to keep from crying. I want to hide in my bed but the noise of chainsaws pervades the walls.

McQUEEN.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO





Cannot believe this. Cannot believe this. Cannot believe this. No. It is not true.

So I'm sure a fair number of you have heard about the blizzard that has beset Maryland and neighboring provinces. At last count, I think we got 30 inches--at least, where I was staying.

I neglected to bring my camera home with me - I stayed at my parents' this weekend, refusing to believe that the snowfall would be this gargantuan - but here is a taste of what the aftereffects of the snowstorm looked like, courtesy of my sister's camera.

( Until we cleared them off, the cars were but tiny hills of snowCollapse )

I feel fortunate to have made it back to my apartment by late Sunday. There were a number of cars beached and abandoned on I-95, but we have a Navigator - we definitely made use of the 4WD. It was necessary for me to get back to my own place, though, because I had an enormous falling-out with my mother earlier that afternoon. It began with my mother screaming at me that I didn't appreciate anything she did for me and that I never did anything in return for her; it ended with both of us in tears, and my mother insisting that if I really cared about our family, I would never move far away, I'd stay within easy driving distance--and that I ought to put our family before many other things, and keep in almost-constant touch with her, or she didn't want to have a relationship with me at all.

I'm still a bit exhausted by the exchange, but I finally got a good night's sleep and I'm hoping to be productive today. I started on a new medication that's supposed to increase my energy and concentration. Haven't seen much change yet, though.

I realized, earlier today, that I possess no icons of owls. I'm sure that you will agree this is particularly shameful for someone who claims them as a creature dear to her heart.

But fear not: that matter was swiftly remedied.

This little one is a Saw-Whet Owl. ♥

And regarding my apartment decor, ( I recently acquired a new light source.Collapse )

I just did something I should have done ages ago: A friends cut. To make my (online) life a little less cluttered. I just about halved my friends page, which feels liberating.

It's most likely I removed you because you've stopped posting, or because I've forgotten who you are (yes, it happens). Let me know if you'd like to be added back.

Based on the twenty-three inches of snow now carpeting the lawn, I daresay we might actually have a white Christmas this year. :)

I suppose most of us who follow the Western calendar are, around this time of year, in the mood to "wrap up" how they feel about the year. I decided to go backwards a little further. I started exploring my old essays--the ones I wrote in college. I remember reading "Rappaccini's Daughter," but I barely remember writing this.

( A few paragraphsCollapse )

My essays of those days were more than a little bit out there. I was consumed with the idea of finely honed descriptive words, of semantics. I was constantly troubled with the fact that there exist an infinite number of interpretations for any finite object (material or verbal - either of which is mutually inclusive of the other, even if only in the abstract). I think I have resolved this dilemma somewhat in more recent years, but I really struggled with it then. Now I am welcoming of alternate interpretations, for I view all to be valid, that each one possesses the ability to be a catalyst for change and influence perspective.

Also, I was reading this today. It's a very interesting article/commentary that I could swear I'd heard of before, but I never read the whole thing. How do you make yourself a body without organs?