…
January 14th, 2008
I keep wanting to write things both sunny and full of love, but my spirit has been snowed under. I keep wanting to trust that interpersonal interactions will turn out ok, but they keep not doing so. I keep wanting a job already, but… well, actually there are some leads, and that’s at least hopeful. But mostly I’m snowed under, and climbing out of the bank seems increasingly futile, and I’m beginning to feel warm under all the snow.
Categories: self
To extend the metaphor, that snow might be acting as an igloo, to protect you while the storm outside is raging.
Will try to look you up on IM once I’ve hit my deadline…
(Rezonked from LJ comment to blog comment…)
Or perhaps an Ice-9 phase transition has occurred, and the snow
*really is* at a steady 70 degrees F. From now on, water will be
treated as a mineral with excellent structural properties. Skyscrapers
will be built of gleaming ice; highways will be surfaced in rugged
white zigzag snowpack. Kids will crunch barefoot through warm banks of
powder on the way to school, and kicks sparkling sprays at each other
in July.
Naked people will make snow angels. At night, the Zambonis play.
I know, it’s easy for me to say — I’m employed. Nevertheless.
(And by the time I repost this, you’re less bummed. Go, Zambonis.)