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Life has been going in fits and starts, but today was a good day. Still working on Doing More Things, and college and jobs and things, which is just barely short of overwhelming and terrifying, of course, but today I started on Battlestar Galactica, and it is wonderful (also younger Paul Ballard with a slightly odd haircut and being all happy and... why did he have a lollipop during the card game? is that, like, reverse hardcore? "I AM A SOLDIER I AM SO HARDCORE I PREFER LOLLIPOPS TO VODKA TOP THAT") and I am really looking forward to watching more. Naturally I only watch shows after they are finished, but at least this one finished on its own terms, apparently, rather than being cancelled. I love that this future still looks like a real world; you have dirt and grime and everyone isn't wearing, like, sparkly jumpsuits or whatever, and the cities look like real lived-in cities (mannnn, I loved that one view of the marketplace, and Six had this made of win purple coat and then she CASUALLY KILLED A BABY AUGH NIGHTMARE FUEL) and I discovered anew what a hold science fiction has got on my psyche when I realised suddenly during a battle scene that I had forgotten our military does not have battles in space. With space ships. It looked so real and natural! The camera work is also really pleasing; Dad loathes and despises hand-held cameras with all of his being, but I really love them when their format has something to add in terms of viewpoint and atmosphere, which they did here; and the minimal use of music was also excellently done.

This evening there was a street fair down the block from our house -- one of the advantages of living downtown. Frequently local events are mostly dull, but not long after I arrived, a local swing quartet came up to play. (And by "quartet", I mean "trio" -- "the double bass is the fourth member!"; I suppose because quartet sounds much more awesome?) Two acoustic guitars and a double bass, which is one of my favourite instruments in the world, and I danced, and it was marvellous. I am always so very happy when I am dancing; and it was a lovely afternoon, warm and sunny and full of little breezes, and there were birds flying overhead and trees and pavement and oh yes swing music, which is incredibly fun to dance to, although I have absolutely no formal training and especially not in swing (though I would very much like to take lessons). I so need more swing music in my life. The bloke on lead guitar had on pinstriped trousers and a nice pinstriped shirt and a fedora; this pleased me immensely.

And now to wrench my sleeping schedule back towards something a little more comfortable; I have been sleeping very badly lately and it is making all sorts of things difficult. And there's work tomorrow, hurrah -- and, I think, a paycheck, which is Good In My Sight.

Oh! And before I forget, Cabinet of Wonders has been updated, with a review of Eva Ibbotson's novel A Countess Below Stairs, and the book art of Su Blackwell. Check it out! Because you love me! :/
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Guess what I get to do tomorrow? If your wager was 'get up at six in order to sit in an ugly grey school gymnasium for four hours and fill in little circles', you're right! Congratulations, you get a cookie. Except I'm fresh out of cookies, so you can have this chocolate that got sat on just now.

So yes: SATs tomorrow. Am I ready? HAHAHAHAHA... no. But I could study for months and not be a bit ready, especially for the mathematical bits. I am very confident -- perhaps even cocky -- about the English bits, if terrified of the essay, which is a little comforting; at least there's something on the test that won't feel like bicycling into the wind (which I did on Wednesday night). And I really ought to be cramming studying, but instead I am nursing a headache. Bah to all headaches. Bah to spectacles with the left stem missing. Bah bah bah.

Adventure of today: Dad drove me to a town even more dismal and grey than mine, because it is only there that I can acquire a photo ID. I need this in order to take the SATs, and also in order to open a bank account (I have an unsettling amount of cash hidden in an undisclosed corner of my bedroom; also I would like a debit card, and PayPal, and not to have to wait until my parents can cash my paychecks for me). And really there are bits of my town which are extremely nice indeed -- my old neighbourhood, for one, with its old respectable houses and lovely ancient trees and the hill, and some of the old abandoned buildings around town which, while sad and ugly, are also very fascinating. In Clearfield I cannot imagine anyone ever being happy. Or wanting to move very much. Or being able to see in colour.

The Department of Motor Vehicles is in the mall. The mall consists of Ollie's Bargain Basement (significant for its enormous quantity, if not variety, of bargain books), Goodwill, Dollar General, the aforementioned DMV, and... something else? Perhaps? Some arcade games and things. There is also a J.C. Penney. I have never been inside. There are also lots of empty spaces, and everything is sad and tired and grey. Fortunately I did not have to wait around for very long. I filled out a lot of paperwork and had to present a lot of other paperwork as evidence that I am, in fact, human, and precisely who I say I am (the bloke in charge was a very professorly looking fellow with a neat white beard and spectacles and a sweater; I liked him), and I signed my name about six times. And then I stood in line to get my picture taken in front of a blue sheet. (My picture turned out quite decently, I must say, for an ID photo, since they are usually ghastly. I wasn't even having a particularly good hair day! But I did, in fact, smile, which no-one in front of me seemed to be interested in doing. And my peacock-feather earrings and cameo brooch necklace are clearly visible...) 

And then I met Dad at Ollie's. I had been mourning that Dad, unlike Mum, would not be as susceptable to the lure of bargain books, and it was unlikely that I would be able to convince him to take me there for a bit, but when he could see I would be in line for a good ten minutes he said he was going to poke around there, and I said fervently that I would meet him. So I did. After a while. Actually I went straight for the book section and he found me there five minutes later. And I must say, I scored very well! -- a gorgeous hardcover copy of Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (I have a paperback, but I've never much liked my cover -- green, over a painting of something, and the original cream-on-black cover is so beautiful and simple and evocative!), and The Book Thief, and The Scarlet Pimpernel, all hardcovers! And the most expensive of them was four dollars. Oh, books. It made up for not getting to the library before it closed. (Anyway I still had the last fifty or so pages of the penultimate Dresden Files book to finish. Auuugh, there's only one left to read! Until the next one comes out, anyway. But whatever shall I do inn the meantime?) 

And now I should write another practice essay. And look over the algebra section in my test preparation book some more. I covet your prayers, dear ones. I covet them a lot.
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I think that exercise does a great deal of good for a person. Despite how cross I get when forced out into the bitter cold to bicycle my way to work, the ride tends to be rather bracing -- in a nice way, like a cold shower if you're the sort of person who likes cold showers, which I am not. (Even in the summer my showers are lukewarm at least.) 

Work today was hectic, and I loved it. For ten or fifteen minutes I was so swamped with customers that I hadn't even a moment to take off my jacket! The rhythm of the register is glorious, and when you get into the track of it it's a bit like dancing, or perhaps something like being in a musical. I did quite a lot of things that I hadn't done before today (such as conduct a return exchange). The hours flew past, which, after Thursday night, when there was an ice storm and I stood about for four hours and only had three customers (not to mention two shifts in a row -- just as I was gearing up to close down my register and go home, the assistant manager appeared looking very harried to ask if I could possibly cover for the girl meant to take over for me who had called and said she wasn't going to try to drive through the storm). And my family showed up, at the mall to get printer ink and other things, and Mum bought me a cinnamon roll, although I never ended up eating it till after I got home.

I was very pleased at how I managed today -- apparently I do work well when there is a lot going on, and it doesn't frustrate me much, and either I didn't have many impolite customers or I simply didn't notice them. (I try my best not to be irritating, so as not to irritate them, and get us all into an uncomfortable situation, and I suppose that helps a bit.) I did get some change wrong, and forgot a few receipts -- the sight of me chasing down the hall after an elderly bloke whose receipt I'd forgotten to give must have been epic -- but we came up only a few dollars short at the end of my shift, and that was after me having more money passing through my hands today than I have ever seen in one place in my life, so I count it as a good.

(And then I went into Rue21 and they had trousers on sale and I really very much need those, so sixteen dollars bought me a pair of plum-coloured skinny jeans and -- I think they call them sailor pants? They are high-waisted and would be double breasted if they were a shirt. Anyway they are narrow-legged too, and dress pants, and black, and very becoming, as well as high waisted which is very useful seeing as I am not interested in showing off my knickers. This is sort of relieving because my blue-grey skinny jeans were beginning to complain about being worn every day -- you can tell it's my day off when I wear a dress or a skirt. Bicycling in the cold in a skirt is no good at all, even if one has got one's thickest, cosiest stockings on.)

It isn't a glory day. But I'm all right.

(I still don't like my days being so centred around things which are bought and sold, and commerce and things. I want to be outside under the stars -- or I would, were it not bitterly cold -- or getting lost in a city somewhere, and price tags and Wanting Things and Making A Profit are beginning to wear on me like a sweater with too high a wool content. I raise my hands. What can I do? Besides work in a library.)
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Today was largely of the good. (Since it is one in the morning I suppose it really counts as yesterday, but the point stands.) Lead worship with Jonathan this morning, and I enjoyed it immensely even though we (mostly me, or by fault of me) messed up a lot. Jonathan played piano, which was fantastic, and I played a hymn I had mostly learnt the evening before, and I was not always where I ought to have been, nor did I know the lyrics nearly as well as I should have, nor did I remember my music stand, so the lyrics and chords were carefully arranged on my lap and I had to keep glancing down as I played, only if I glanced down too much I got too far from the microphone -- well, yes. More practising is in order. Anyway I liked doing it, and the congregation seemed to enjoy it as well, which is really the point of it all. I also did not fall asleep once during the sermon, hurrah hurrah. (This had a little to do with caffeine-laced headache medication, but it is still a worthy accomplishment!)

Lunch was very tasty, Jonathan and I hobnobbed and watched several episodes of Death Note (which is another thing I am liking quite a lot), and bicycled to the Meadows for ice cream and working on our (mostly his) tabletop RPG and not liking the radio station much at all, after which we parted ways.

When I arrived home, Mum announced that she had just been informed that we got the house we wanted. I was so excited that I hugged her. I don't hug people very often. Now I can be legitimately excited about the deacon's bench and the laundry chute and the attic loft over the garage and the apple tree and the yellow-painted living room and the fireplace and the kitchen and my bedroom with four closets and funny little cupboards and being right in town. Right, and you lot were probably going, "did the Presbyterians not meet on Tuesday? this is Sunday, isn't it?" YES. YES IT IS. We have been waiting to hear something all week and it has been very agonising and also more than a little annoying. Church committees are far from my favourite things. (Actually, committees in general don't tend to make the top one hundred list.) We plan to move in over the weekend. (Frivolous: Mum said she would not call our hairdresser and set appointments for us girls to get our hair cut until we had a moving date. My hair has not been cut since I had it bobbed in December and I am not entirely thrilled with the way it has currently grown out. I want to get it cut and re-shaped. I also will not dye it until it is cut, and I have very exciting dyeing plans.)

Other frivolous good thing: when I was hobnobbing with Jonathan yesterday, we stopped in at Goodwill, and I lost my heart to several items, even though I was trying not to look at very much of anything at all (although I ended up buying a fifty-cent record of Saint-Saens' Carnival of the Animals, despite my lack of record player). I mentioned these to Mum, and she sort of went out and bought them for me this afternoon when she happened to be at the supermarket next door. They are: one: a black double-breasted trenchoat, which is quite possibly the only thing I have wanted longer than these boots. (I see [livejournal.com profile] lady_moriel being jealous way over there in England, ha ha.) Two: a Firefly-tastic cotton dress, black with silver pinstripes and vivid Chinese flower patterns and beadwork. Three: very retro (but brand-new) bright orange heels, with wide ankle straps and buckles. I may have pictures soon, because, ♥. I didn't really even ask Mum to buy them for me, I just mentioned that I sort of wanted to go to Goodwill soon. 

And now I am going to do the dishes and watch SPN (FINALLY) and go to sleep, because I have a physical tomorrow afternoon, which I am looking forward to, for some odd reason. I don't know, I always half-consciously look forward to new experiences; at least they're interesting, if nothing else. That makes me sound awfully more of an optimist than I've ever considered myself: it is probably misleading.
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Kyra went home yesterday. We drove her to the bus station (which is a dingy little building on the outskirts of town), after the two of us had spent the last several hours sitting out on a blanket spread over the roof, watching The Sarah Jane Adventures. And, oh, we had such a lovely time, and I miss her terribly today -- no Kyra to say ridiculous things to when I wake up in the morning, or to sit and browse the internet with and look up and say "did you read this? what do you think of this?" or to bounce ideas off, and no-one to watch geeky television with. I should write about all of our adventures, but there were so many -- ! And the strangest thing -- or perhaps not -- was how utterly familiar she was. Yes, we've known each other for nearly seven years, and have kept in contact through every means other than physical contact, so I've seen pictures and heard her voice and know how she reacts and thinks and what things are important to her: but I was expecting some sort of vertigo, maybe a bit of uncanny-valley, because now she's moving and taking up physical space and oh dear, I'm afraid of people. But everything was completely natural and she was as familiar as -- well, as though we'd lived in the same town for seven years instead of living in the same spaces on the internet. Our conversations didn't have awkward stops in them where we scrambled for something to say, and we didn't mind being quiet together, and I didn't feel the need to retreat from her companionship and recover, which I nearly always need to do with people. Furthermore, she is awesome and funny and sweet and clever -- as you know if you have also hobnobbed with her online -- and gave me some excellent brainstorming for the vampire story that's been knocking about since last year not doing much of anything. (I wish I could say the same for your stories, Kyra, but I am reading The Bravest Thing and kind of loving it.)

There will be pictures soon. Many, many, many pictures.

And this morning, Moony came back -- or rather, Moony 2.0, as he was shipped from Shanghai and is completely bereft of his former scratches. He does, however, still have the splendid inscription you lot put on him. I spent several hours filling him back up with the music from three computers, and it is extremely nice to have it all in one place again.

Today I am feeling very tired.
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It's been a gorgeous couple of days, I must say; extremely refreshing. The odd thing is that I've been doing a lot more work than usual, as well as having Events to attend, and yet I'm feeling completely un-rushed, and almost as though I have more free time than I usually do. I've been reading for long stretches at a time (I just finished Orson Scott Card's Speaker for the Dead, which -- gorblimey. I can't remember the last time I've been so utterly absorbed in a book.), baking, streaming BtVS on the laptop, watching Once, playing music, doing Useful Internet Things -- so far the only Thing I Always Mean To Do When Everyone's Gone that I haven't done is any writing, and since I've been doing so many other useful things, both practical and emotionally fulfilling, I am emphatically not feeling guilty about it. Furthermore, laptop.

Last night was glorious -- after Once and a little straightening (and a lot of live streaming WUMB), I put on my apostrophe dress and my red shoes and the Angelmobile and I took off for the theatre to see Sarah and Hannah in the Teen Theatre showcase, which consisted of a lot of short plays that I very much enjoyed. Victoria was there as well, and Alessandra's brothers Brennan and Jesse, so it was a merry time. After the play there was a bit of hobnobbing before we headed our separate ways (well, separate as in "everyone else in the Meholicks' van, me on a bicycle"). Riding at night is lovely; the air was just a little chilly and there was wind in my hair and the sky was dotted over with stars and a brightly glimmering nearly-full moon. It was so unbearably lovely that as soon as I got home and had my bicycle in the garage and shed my coat and shoulder bag I ran back outside and wended my way up the hill. Oh, I wandered up there for hours, it felt like, singing old songs, with the moon glinting at me through the trees, and the stars (and aeroplanes) winking overhead. After a while I simply lay in the grass and stared up at the stars -- the stars always make me feel closer to God than anything else. It's odd, I suppose, because one is supposed to feel small and insignificant when one beholds the splendour of the night sky, but it always makes me feel -- connected. Almost as though I can feel my blood humming in my veins, and the pull of the moon on the tides, and the way everything in the world fits together, and how this world fits together with the heavens, and how I fit into the scheme of everything. When I look at the stars, I feel anchored.

And after skimming the f-list and reading a little and, er, having another slice of cake (it's very good cake!), I went upstairs and cosied up in my blankets and lit all the candles I have holders for, because my lamp is broken, and for a little while after I was too sleepy to read I lay in bed with the covers up to my chin, watching the blurred glimmer of the candles and the flickering of the firelight over the walls and ceiling. (I blew them out before I was sleepy enough to fall asleep, though, don't worry.) And there was that stillness, that beautiful singing stillness that feels -- unstill, alive, I don't know, it's more than silence. I want to say "communing" -- not to be mystical -- but communing with what? God? Myself -- the truest part of myself? I don't know. But it's peace, and it's beautiful.

This morning started slowly; I stayed cosied up beneath the covers and listened to Morning Edition on NPR for a while, and watched a bit of telly, and had some orange juice, until I finally stopped lazing about and got dr[profile] lady_morielessed and cleaned the hall and most of the bathroom and a lot of downstairs and the last corners of my bedroom (...sort of). And the day's been mostly like that. Cleaning, turning the radio up loud -- the Folk Show on our local NPR station was on until just now and for once they had a competent DJ playing good music rather than third-tier no-name singer-songwriters and amateur local string bands, and I've been making a great big batch of my fantastically luscious cinnamon rolls for tomorrow (WHEN KYRA IS HERE). Cinnamon rolls are an excellent thing to make when no-one else is around, because a) they take a very long time, and b) you cannot help but make a truly incredible mess. I've just cleaned it up and the cinnamon rolls are cooling on the counter and when they are ready to be put away and I stop typing on, I am going to get the Angelmobile and head off. The gang is having one last great bash before Alessandra gets married on Monday and moves away to California. (Hopefully I get home tonight before my parents do; if not, I am leaving a large, brightly coloured note.)

AND KYRA IS COMING TOMORROW. ALKSHDGLKHGH. [profile] lady_moriel and I have known each other for nearly seven years and she is my oldest and bestest friend, but we have never actually met -- so she may be an axe murderer. If I never post again, she has probably hacked off my head and carried it off to her lair to display on the wall with the heads of her other victims. But anyway she will be here for a week and I am bubbling with excitement and half-formed plans and, oh yeah, terror. (What if she doesn't like me in person? But she's seen the very worst of my emotastic whingeings; if she still likes me after all of that she won't forsake me because I am clingy and sneeze like a freight train and talk too fast and fall over a lot, right? Right?) It's also sort of fascinating from a psychological perspective, and...strange. All of these years she's been words on my screen and a voice on the telephone and suddenly she's going to be here? In my world? And we've been talking about getting together for years, some plans more serious than others, and I still don't really believe she's coming at all, and won't, until she's in my car tomorrow morning flopping over with jet-lag and suitcases. I'm having gigantic silly metaphysical thoughts that are too convoluted for words. Furthermore I have been overcome with completely random fits of squee ("lalala, cleaning the bathroom...FOR KYRA. KYRA IS COMING TO SEE ME TOMORROW! *flail*") and may have jumped up and down on the bed. Just a little bit.

Well then. I ought to put away those cinnamon rolls and find a jacket and depart.
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So, I saw my family off this morning, and now I am rejoicing in my vivid solitude. I bicycled to the library this afternoon and rented Once and didn't have to make certain anyone knew I was gone and I needn't worry about waiting until my siblings are in bed to watch (silly Irish people, why must you be so profane?). Somehow doing my chores seems easier when no-one is telling me to do them, so I washed all the dishes and straightened my bedroom before I went to the library or allowed myself to stream any telly on the laptop (I haven't got round to that, oddly enough). The weather is exquisite: sunny and warm with a merry little wind that's got just the wee-est edge of chill to it. Perhaps it will rain? Tonight I am going to see Hannah in a play and will likely wear my new dress that looks as though it's covered in apostrophes (or commas, and though I like commas best apostrophe is much the prettier word) and my crimson shoes, and I have got the splendidest new purple shoes and earthy gold scarf to go with my dress for Alessandra's wedding, and there is chocolate-chip pound cake residing happily on the kitchen counter. (I may make cinnamon rolls, if we have enough brown sugar, because they take all day to make, and are often gone in half that time. It'd be splendid to have cinnamon rolls for Sunday morning when KYRA WILL BE COMING.)

Also I may have entered into official adulthood today, as I had to make a Business Call all by my lonesome and was put on hold where I waited for ten minutes in the company of the everlasting elevator music (gorblimey, that stuff is rank; would it be so terrifically hard to burn a decent playlist to CD, or turn on a radio station? classical music, at least, would offend very few tastes and give people a bit of education besides!). I have now successfully changed my primary care physician to a family one rather than a paediatrician and when I hung up the telephone I had to take several deep breaths to calm the terror that came rushing in after the fact. Oh help, I'm not ready to be grown up! Just think, when I begin working I shall have to acquire a bank account, and before long I will be forced to pay taxes. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

I feel a great deal more content than I do many other times when I have been home alone for extended periods of time; I think part of this is because I am making plans and insisting that I Do Things instead of letting myself lapse into especially bad habits because there isn't anybody about to tell me not to do things like flip channels mindlessly for an hour or two, or waste time doing effectively nothing on the computer. My bedroom is nearly Kyra-ready, the dishes are washed, a DVD is rented, I have plans for the evening (though no dinner plans as of yet, hmm...I had a bacon and cheese sandwich already; what can I cook now?), and still intend to finish cleaning the bathroom, straightening the hall, touching up various other parts of the house, possibly doing some writing (though that's not as urgent as it used to be; now that I have a computer all to myself I can do a lot more writing and editing and needn't wait until everyone's gone and not using the computers), and, er, watching a bit of Buffy. Hush, you. I am also curious to see how early I get up tomorrow morning, as I was up at seven to see the family off, and I woke up with a headache, so I took some Excedrin which effectively filled me with caffeine...

Anyway, now I am babbling terribly. I shall get me some cake and watch Once.
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I ordered a great mess of things from Amazon on Thursday, because I have Christmas money (still!) knocking about and I am typically very lazy about spending until I suddenly go and blow it all out on something. I spent a bit for earrings after Christmas, and some on Heidi's birthday present, and a cameo bracelet, and the rest has been sitting comfortably in my wallet and I finally said 'enough with that, I haven't bought music in yonks', so I did, and some books I've been wanting (v. v. cheap!!), and now I've got the delicious anticipation of parcels in the post to mix in with the delightful newness of Spring. If I had posted what I meant to when I meant to (which I didn't because I was absent most of yesterday and busy before that) I would've said something about how splendid it is to wonder which package will come first, but one already did: this morning a bubble-wrapped CD was waiting for me on the breakfast table when I tumbled out of bed and downstairs (very early, for me on a Saturday morning: nineish!): Sarah Slean's Night Bugs, which I have listened to three or four times already and am madly enamoured of. An album that starts out with a caberet-esque tune which speaks of how 'I think of Eliot when I smell the street' and brims with thematic allusions to 'Preludes' (!!!) can't be anything but good, yes? Sarah Slean is so lovely, and otherwordly; and best, she makes you feel the otherworlds, which makes for splendid writing music. Her songs have a rich sense of culture and history and a little bit of fantasy. 

I really ought to be writing something--I found some [profile] tuesday_skyline sketches in a notebook that I'd completely forgotten the writing of (one is, of course, the unending post-death-of-Neil things, which I'm sure are getting very tiresome), and I'm working out a better timeline. Originally I had Ian meeting Tuesday at the New Bedford Summerfest, which is in mid-July, and Neil is murdered the following February, but that's much too soon; there isn't enough time for strong friendships, a little bit of falling-in-love, lots of coffee shops and outdoor cafes, and superhero exploits. Knowing Neil for only six months before he died wouldn't seem right. So I've got it now that Neil dies the February of the next year, and things seem to be in shape again. (Now, if I could only get ahold of Ian's superpower--oh, and a plot! Then we'd be good, yes? By the by, did I mention that Tuesday turned out blonde? I certainly hadn't guessed it. She and Neil do look alike, then, except I don't think that Neil's got freckles. Or dyes his hair blue, you know.) 

And oh, it's so lovely outdoors now; Spring is actually here, and it's wet and green and misty and there's a rich scent of growing things and rain and hope. I've been reading and gazing out at the rain from my window much of the day.
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I can't believe I forgot to post here, but Mum had her ultrasound on Wednesday, and the baby has a very strong heartbeat: the doctor seemed very optismistic, and, while we are all still holding our collective breath, we are immensely relieved and actually beginning to let ourselves be excited.

!!!
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Well!

Things have been a bit mad. I feel rather as if I have been plucked unceremoniously from one life and thrust into another, and when certain familiar things attempt to poke their way in I feel magnificently disoriented. Except for once, when I was four, I have never moved even within the same state, and therefore a move signifies complete and utter change. The stores should be different, and the people I see--I shouldn't feel as if I am in the same place as always when I leave this familiarly strange house!

Where did I leave off? There is so much to tell; most of it probably won't be of overmuch interest to anyone else, but I always feel compelled to remember everything: every event, every sensation, especially new, History-of-Banui events such as this.

Main computer does not seem to be starting up properly--when one switches it on, one gets the normal start-up and then it stops on the red and green and blue thingummy that says something about putting on lower power--the thingummy that always shows up right before the menu screen thingummy with everyone's desktops on it. I am trying not to panic. I am also using Dad's laptop on which everything is difficult to read, but at least we got a normal mouse on it for the time being, instead of that wretched laptop mouse. In any case, it needs to be looked at.

Ugh, I don't think that this entry does anything justice--too many facts and not much of what I feel about the facts. I was beginning to get so internet-deprived that I was talking blog entries out loud to myself, because, perhaps, writing about things is how I begin to understand them. I am sure I have left out important things that I will remember later. At the moment, my legs are both asleep and the kitty keeps trying to lie on them.

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My hands are cold. Ergo, I am exceedingly happy. I have missed curling into warm things and being able to wear layers. (My entire fashion sense is based on layering and texturing, except for the parts that are based on costumery and general oddness. When it's hot, I can't wear my vest, and it is the most used and versatile part of my bizarre wardrobe.) I hope it stays cool until forever. So long as we have a vaguely warm spell in late September and another in mid-October. It is rather ironic that the world is beginning to be brisk and chilly when it looks as if it is about to burst into flame, I think--but then the lonely black starkness of the trees amidst their firey garlands couldn't be anything but cold-weather, could it?

The fact that my beloved autumn is approaching fills me with delight--absolute delight, when I am not mind-fogged or be-mired in hormonal and situational depression combined. I am in love with the world of Creation again, and I don't know just why--but I am hurtling from mood to mood with the swiftness and irregularity of a weathervane in a thunderstorm. But late at night, if I am not in bed struggling to sleep, I 'dwell in Possibility'. Why my mind always seems clearer past ten is something I will probably never know.

I can smell it in the chilly air: orange, red, and gold, and crisp, crackling leaf-piles, and black-stark trees against the sky; red knit jumpers and hot cocoa and apples and molasses crinkles and cider; wearing layers again and gallivanting about in orange and brown; the smell of things that are bright and crackling and sharp and redorangegold-on-black. The eerie darkness of everything, even day: it makes me want to hole up with apples and poetry and wear skirts a lot. Oh! Rapture! And yet it will be at least a month before I see any change in the trees.

Autumn always awakens the part of me that Must Make Shiny Graphics, Blast It. And last autumn saw my very first fic-writing mania; I certainly wouldn't mind at all if that happened again. (Especially as I have, what, five things, mainly, right now that ought to be finished, and are being rather sticky; and two or three sort of mini-epicish things that have been shoved ruthlessly to the cobwebby back of my mind? Who is going to hurt me really badly if I confess that I have year-old Unfinished Tales fic that is actually decently promising that I haven't touched in eight months or so? Er. Yes. Running now.)

Let me return to the fact that my hands are very cold, and while this is delightful, it is also making typing difficult, and it is also a ridiculous hour of the morning and I should be in bed Right Now.

September 2009

S M T W T F S
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