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Nov. 30th, 2012 10:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radfrac_archive_fullMad storm today, all through the morning. It's unusual. Usually it likes to storm all night here, the noise rolling restlessly around in bed with you like a lover who can't give up the argument.
Today I was in the new office on the second floor. The windows are above eye level and uncovered, instead of street level and vertical-blinded. I could see and feel the storm, the way its light shifted over me, that eerie illuminated shadow a storm creates. The air pressure kept changing. My ears would get blocked, and I'd feel like I was on a plane. There was an accompanying sense of rising and falling. (I immediately tweeted about it. I have a friend who tweets chronotopes, sensory word-pictures, and I try to imitate her.)
Tired. New job is new. Master's paper is almost done. There's nothing to complain about -- ordinary fatigues and anxieties. No, lucky ones. The aches and fears of real chances and changes. The kinds of things I thought I might have missed out on forever. Knee-twinges of gratitude.
Only the one big thing left to wish for, really. How often can some one of us say that? That one thing no nearer than before, and very few ideas on how to bring it closer. Like trying to close your fist around a star.
Well. Sirius doesn't care.
Today I was in the new office on the second floor. The windows are above eye level and uncovered, instead of street level and vertical-blinded. I could see and feel the storm, the way its light shifted over me, that eerie illuminated shadow a storm creates. The air pressure kept changing. My ears would get blocked, and I'd feel like I was on a plane. There was an accompanying sense of rising and falling. (I immediately tweeted about it. I have a friend who tweets chronotopes, sensory word-pictures, and I try to imitate her.)
Tired. New job is new. Master's paper is almost done. There's nothing to complain about -- ordinary fatigues and anxieties. No, lucky ones. The aches and fears of real chances and changes. The kinds of things I thought I might have missed out on forever. Knee-twinges of gratitude.
Only the one big thing left to wish for, really. How often can some one of us say that? That one thing no nearer than before, and very few ideas on how to bring it closer. Like trying to close your fist around a star.
Well. Sirius doesn't care.
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no subject
Date: 2012-12-01 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-12-02 01:42 am (UTC)