feren

This morning is mostly sunny, a little breezy and warm without crossing that fine line into the realm of hot -- in terms of weather, it's as near to perfect as one can get. I wish we'd had more days like this over the summer and find myself hoping this condition will linger for another month or so.

Despite the pleasant weather outside (if I may indulge in a bit of personal angst here) this morning still finds my mood somewhere in the bedrock. There's a myriad of reasons I could choose from to pin the blame on, such as another lousy night's sleep because of restless dreams. Or maybe it's the dread I feel at having to start a fresh week at the office, which always finds new ways to crush my spirit a bit more and drive me a little further to the edge of psychosis (I haven't written about work lately but things are continuing to be patently ridiculous around this place). Maybe the biggest factor is knowing that shortly after I left the house this morning my parents would finish packing their car and drive back to the farm after an all-too-brief visit. Maybe it's just "all of the above," which feels most accurate at the moment. Emotions have a way of combining and fuelling one another until you achieve some sort of strange gestalt.

I am able to take solace in the fact that I had a really nice weekend with my folks.

A blaze so high it lights the night

Bill Left, a morning deejay on WNND (the 80s and 90s station I am always listening to) succinctly summed up what's wrong with American culture today when he said, "And once more this goes to prove that naked people [on tv] are bad, but killing people as violently as possible is perfectly okay."

owner of a lonely heart

Sometimes I feel very vanilla.



That is all.

... it is bloody cold in my bedroom, and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. Yes, it's true that I have a number of blankets and quilts I can crawl under... but those help make things only a tiny bit better. Along with the blankets I have Ra to curl up with, but the poor black kitty lacks sufficient body mass to generate significant body heat so he doesn't help much either.

It's 8 °F / -13 °C outside, and with the windchill that makes things -9 °F / -23 °C.

I hate being cold in bed.

This week has now had two nights I'm really wishing hadn't occurred. I hate it when the past comes up from behind me and clips me in the back of the skull with a seven-pound Physics primer. I'm left doubled-over, seeing nothing but stars and wondering what in the frell just clobbered me.

( Relationship angst, known to be caustic. You know you don't want to read this. )