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I love sitting inside in the middle of paradise, unable to go outside because I have to write an essay about Canadian Romanticism. I am also unable to access any of the information I actually need for said essay. Addendum to "What University Has Taught Me": All the research you need for something will be just out of your grasp, no matter what the circumstances. This is going to be the best paper ever. I can just feel it. Mmmm, failure.

Every muscle in my body is a knot of overused pain, but it's worth it. Went outside the boundary lines on No Name Peak and then skirted back into Shooting Star, down The Burn and Pyramids. It was almost as good as those double blacks at Arapahoe Basin. The day before that was a hiking day. Carrying 20 pounds of equipment up 500 nearly vertical feet in knee deep snow is... Well, my shoulders and thighs still haven't forgiven me. But oh, untracked powder. It's like flying. The spray against your calves and the swiftness of motion is indescribable. I am incapable of the words for it. And above the bowl you can see forever, out across the valleys and ridges. The mountains disappear into blue distance and there is nothing to hear except the whistle of the wind through snow-caked spruces and pines.

All of this rambling comes down to the simple fact that I would kill to live here.

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Skimming over clouds and mountaintops. I understand Owl City's romance with airplanes sometimes; when you are high enough, it feels as though the fragile layer of metal and plastic separating you from the sky is nothing at all -- that you could plunge out and breathe in that vast emptiness and disappear. I love the whispering curlicues of clouds in the lower stratosphere -- stratocumulus mounding below and cirrus brushing above. I love their common name: "mares' tails".

Got up at 4 and traveled all day. Now my internal clock is screaming at me to go to sleep, but it's only 7:30 here. I love time warps. The mountains are beautiful. I'll have to kidnap the camera. Maybe the magpies will show up again. My last count had 20 in one tree, at this same area. Passing by Salt Lake City, there were chemical plants on one side of the highway and sweeping mountains on the other. The machinery, with all its tubes, pipes, winking lights, and smokestacks belching flames against a backdrop of endless flat plains, and the mountains reaching up into the cloud cover behind them.

I want to write Amberwing and forget everything that university has been trying to teach me about being a "good" writer. I feel as though everything I've learned there has made me worse and worse, that I've lost what made it happy for me.

edit: (On a sort of similar but not really subject, Critical QQ always knows how to put things best.)
(and I totally screwed up the semicolons in this post. Go me.)
good things:
- Finishing my YA chapter on time.
- Tanking with friends.
- Aunt and cousin visiting. Said cousin is Pretty Cool, and my aunt understands my foodie obsessions. It's so nice to chat about the merits of ingredients and technique with someone who cares.
- Robot Unicorn Attack.
- Coffee. I love you, coffee. Never leave me.

bad things:
- Complete apathy for school. Can it be break now? The idea of going to class is like being punched in the stomach over and over.
- Waking up with intensely bad headaches. The light makes me want to cry.
- Play rewrite due and only halfway done.
- Lack of spring.

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Valentine's Day meal, something you should all try if you have any cooking ability. Or get your cook friends to make it for you.Collapse )

Expensive, fussy, but altogether the most amazing meal I've made in months. All the people over last night enjoyed it immensely. Got enough shepherd's pie left to serve as leftover lunches for a few more days. Hopefully my father won't freak that I used up the last of his Port. >_> I spent the evening in a pleasant haze of fullness and alcoholic bliss.

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It's snowing and yet there are no clouds overhead, nor any wind to brush it form the rooftops. I wish I didn't feel so lost and unhappy all the time.

Going to try and write some shorts for various webzines this month. Can't bring myself to care about my Canadian Literature class anymore, or my success in said class. I'm not particularly good at succeeding, so that's easy enough.

In the meantime, Ladyhawke part 1 out of 12, because youtube is a wonderful place and this movie defines my childhood. I like mocking Matthew Broderick's terrible attempts at pronouncing French mercilessly. The intro music never fails to amuse, either, on similar levels to Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind's terrible video game boss soundtrack moments. (Which is also up, awesome.)

There's apparently a singer who calls herself Ladyhawke flying around now, too. I'm not sure whether I like it or not. I'd like to live in a watercolor desert dream.

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This song is like Go Places. It resonates inside of me and makes me want to stand up and go flying. (Is it wrong that I still dream...?) The sky is flat grey and the snow is more like rain. Little pathways are stamped out in the expanse of Dawson campus, as if the students are mice tunneling underground for the winter. The contrast of green copper rooftops against the muddy tendons and ligaments of trees is striking. Starlings huddle in the branches.

I enjoy that my Shakespeare class is introducing me to so much of his work, and while the analysis of each individual line of a sonnet does give me a better idea of what the author might have been going for, it still leeches a lot of the pleasure from it. Maybe I'm too romantic; maybe I don't want to know how it all works. Maybe I just want to look at something and derive happiness from the choice of words, from the rhythm of ababcdcd. That leaves the question; does art have to be dissected to be appreciated? Does every piece of artwork have to have a thousand double meanings behind each sentence? Or can it be a simple thought -- something that you yourself didn't even think of when you wrote it down? Can you make something without ulterior motives, and will it still be beautiful?

I'm trying not to think about what I'm going to do with my life. The week is going well enough. Came home from class yesterday and Paprika's basket was sitting on top of the trash, covered in snowflakes.

I made clothes for the beings of nothing.

Things that make me happy:
- Hot chocolate after walking home from class.
- Felmyst. Evil!Kharnath. Benevolent Mr. Pinchy.
- Spontaneous yeast-risen coffee cake with almond paste filling.
- Kingdom Hearts. Holy crap, Birth By Sleep, why are you so confusing and amazing at the same time. (It's jumped the shark so many times, but Aqua and Ansem's conversation in Darkness just breaks my heart into a thousand tiny pieces.)

Pretentious Canadian Literature teacher aside, this week is off to a good start. Let's see if I can keep it up.
*foam*

It doesn't make any bloody sense, but omg.
Avatar was worth every penny. The story wasn't the most mind-blowing thing ever, but oh god eye candy oh god. Bioluminescence makes me so happy.

On that note, I leave you with a big blue cat person song and run off to class.

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To-do:
- Finish the goddamn play, no matter how stupid it is. It's due on Thursday, stupid.
- Summary of YA novel.
- First chapter of YA novel. Combine Nell and Lee? What is Ash's motivator? Transferring this from KH to "reality" is more complicated than I thought.

Avatar after class today. Very excited about getting my big blue cat people fix finally. Also, tomorrow is dedicated to getting Dragon Age working (HELL YES MAC VERSION) and losing myself in delicious fantasy RPG goodness.

I stand by my old question of "Why can't we all just get along?" I realize the naïveté of it, but I can't stop myself from hoping that maybe someday everyone will be happy.

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