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I've been quiet for a while, I'll admit. I suppose I've mostly been feeling that nothing terribly interesting is going on, so I don't really have much of anything to say. It is properly Autumn, even moving to Winter, and while I love the colors, this season I've been feeling sort of lethargic and haven't gotten outside to enjoy them as much as I usually do. I think it has to do with not having either a person to go walking with or an established pattern of going walking. And while the nearby woods are lovely, they can be a wee bit sketchy to walk in alone. Tegan and I have arranged to go wander around one of the nearby parks on Monday, though, which should be nice.

I seem to be rambling a lot . . . )

In other news, I have 17,704 words worth of NaNo right now. Not all good words, mind you, but this is, after all, nano, and I think they're a great deal better than the stuff I was producing (at a much slower rate) two years ago.
It is November 6th!
When did I become the kind of person who is 1/3 done with her nano on day six? (Admittedly, it's the easiest third, since the plot was mostly already figured out, but hey, I now have an idea for what happens in the second two thirds, which I did not have 36 hours ago, and maybe when I'm feeling ambitious I'll write myself an outline or something, and figure out exactly what sorts of dangerous and semi-dangerous items the Agency keeps in its Peculiarity Vault.)
. . . this business of being unemployed is peculiar.

Although I do have a job interview for this coming week, which is an exciting thing.
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It really ought not to be 89 degrees Fahrenheit before the forsythias have finished blooming.

I do actually like spring, and would appreciate more than a week of it.
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I walked home from fencing practice barefoot.
It was really too cold; I haven't seen any bees yet, and there was still ice on the lake and snow in the ground in sheltered patches. The grass is still mostly brown. The pavement deep in shadow was cold against my skin, and my pitiful winter feet were only barely up to the roughness and the stones of the walk.
But it was so warm yesterday.
It was glorious to have nothing between me and the ground, to read the earth with the palms of my feet and let my toes wiggle in the breeze. It felt like the summers of childhood.
My own personal ritual to welcome the imminent spring.
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Today I stood in the center of a spinning cloud of bees, a living cyclone that filled the air with its sound and yet hardly moved the air.

Goodbyes are sad times.

I love the way everyone gets silly and cuddly and close during finals, the way we especially value our friends because we know that they are about to leave.
I hate the way that everyone is busy and stressed and worried at the end of the year, how everyone's hackles are but a moment from rising and how a careless, sleep deprived word inspires a growl.
I am glad that classes are over, but look forward to weeks and months ahead with many fewer friends about and silence around me instead of the comforting buzz of the hive.
I miss the challenge of structured academic learning, but revel in the freedom to take an afternoon and do everything and nothing.
I strongly dislike moving. I welcome the chance to lessen the clutter in my life and the quickening of my mother's ThrowItOut impulses, while I despair over the results of my hoarding tendencies - an inheritance from my father.
I watch my friends walk out of my life for months at a time and see the tears roll down their faces. It's not forever. It's not even Spain.
It is, however, long enough.
Tall trees outside my window shake, and the air has changed. Summer brings storms and change as my life is gathered into boxes at my feet while scattered across the country to the four winds.

I really shouldn't have packed up both of my lights; it gets really dark in here without them.
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My subconcious seems to have been very church-y last night. I had no less than two dreams about churches, the first about my home church and the Very Distressing Incident that happened a month or two ago. I don't remember much about that one, but it seemed to bring some sort of closure, and I rather suspect that it was brought on by my mother mentioning that the church secretary has quit without notice because he disappoves of the way the VDI was handled.

For the second, I made up an entire church, complete with church politics and a sexton who would occassionally go insane and attempt to shoot people. Actually, now that I think about it, I rather suspect that this dream was also sort-of about my home church, although it wound up getting turned around and mixed up with some kind of spy thriller.
Have I mentioned that I hate the politics of relatively small communities?

I just got an e-mail from my mother wondering if I had any spring pictures that she could use as a desktop background because her coworkers are telling her that the winter picture she has now is out of date. My response was more or less, "Spring? What's that?"

The talk by Princess Zulu last night was good.

. . . and now I should stop wasting time on the internet and finish the homework I was procrastinating on yesterday.
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It seems to me that all the leaves fell in the course of one evening, the night before last. I was walking around campus on Monday and realizing that there was suddenly so much more sky visible than there had been. Leaves have been falling for a while now, but it suddenly seems that there are hardly any more left in the trees. If I look out across the pond, there is still color, but it's muted somehow, a portent of more bleak views to come.
This impression was also reinforced last night after fencing practice. On the way to fencing practice, I noticed that the whatever-it-is tree by Tyler had dropped all of its leaves suddenly and without warning. On the way home from fencing practice, a cold rain was falling. Luckily I had the coat that sort-of doubles as a raincoat, and my sneakers somehow didn't get to wet.

Since it seems to be time to post class schedules, here's mine:


COMPUTER SCIENCE I - CSC 111, 9-10:20 T,Th

Which I'm pleased with. It's what I was hoping for. I'm not as thrilled about it as I was with this semester's schedule; I suspect that it will be more boring, but I also have the impression that the increase in boredom will be tied to a slight decrease in challenging-ness and how much work I need to put into the class (particularly if SPN 220, taught by the same prof, is any indication).
I'm not best pleased with the free hour between 10 and 11 on MWF, since past experience has shown that I don't utilize that hour effectively when I have it, but there's a work shift from 9:55-10:55 at the CMP, and maybe I can fit that in.

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