It's been raining more lately. I can recall three storms since April. The first was the best; the thunder was so loud it shook everything, and the streets were just rivers. It didn't last long, but it was intense. I hope we have another storm like that. Except longer.
Things here are...monotonous. Sleep has improved, but that's all that's different. I dreamed that Anna and Elsa were racing on a road Elsa made icy, and their cars collided and she flew off the cliff and into the water. And just before it happened, I heard myself thinking - "The crash is coming up, it's going to happen. Don't wake up just yet."
Um, what? Do I want to watch people die? Am I that sick?
My books are giving me no end of trouble, as usual. Apparently I can't focus if the font style isn't in Garamond, stupid as it sounds. It doesn't read back the same in another style. I have written at least two new poems and am working on a third.
And that's about it. I'm strongly considering going back to bed thirty-eight minutes away from noon, because I clearly won't miss out on anything. And that's just one reason to try and get more sleep. I could sit here and spout one reason after another, but they won't seem like reasons to you. My baggy, burning, twitching eyes will say something different.
Used to be I wouldn't even notice how tired I was. Maybe I wasn't even tired, but until I really look back and remember my youth, it seems like I've always been old. Always tired, never happy or healthy even. But life was good like that in the time of dolls, and cardboard castles. My mom once made me a doll out of cotton and old clothing, and the damn thing was bigger than I was. I took it everywhere. I think I even danced with it.
I can remember a time my sister and I shared something called a playroom. Remember what that is? The smell of crayons, and clay; toys constantly underfoot. Windows that don't open. Not a single piece of furniture in sight. Back in the day when throwing the blanket on the bed was good enough, and it was the worst thing ever if your food touched your food. You weren't allowed to chew gum until you understood how, and you lived on the promise that one day you'd be retold all those jokes that were too adult at the time.
Well, newsflash; I still don't know what was so damn funny.
Things here are...monotonous. Sleep has improved, but that's all that's different. I dreamed that Anna and Elsa were racing on a road Elsa made icy, and their cars collided and she flew off the cliff and into the water. And just before it happened, I heard myself thinking - "The crash is coming up, it's going to happen. Don't wake up just yet."
Um, what? Do I want to watch people die? Am I that sick?
My books are giving me no end of trouble, as usual. Apparently I can't focus if the font style isn't in Garamond, stupid as it sounds. It doesn't read back the same in another style. I have written at least two new poems and am working on a third.
And that's about it. I'm strongly considering going back to bed thirty-eight minutes away from noon, because I clearly won't miss out on anything. And that's just one reason to try and get more sleep. I could sit here and spout one reason after another, but they won't seem like reasons to you. My baggy, burning, twitching eyes will say something different.
Used to be I wouldn't even notice how tired I was. Maybe I wasn't even tired, but until I really look back and remember my youth, it seems like I've always been old. Always tired, never happy or healthy even. But life was good like that in the time of dolls, and cardboard castles. My mom once made me a doll out of cotton and old clothing, and the damn thing was bigger than I was. I took it everywhere. I think I even danced with it.
I can remember a time my sister and I shared something called a playroom. Remember what that is? The smell of crayons, and clay; toys constantly underfoot. Windows that don't open. Not a single piece of furniture in sight. Back in the day when throwing the blanket on the bed was good enough, and it was the worst thing ever if your food touched your food. You weren't allowed to chew gum until you understood how, and you lived on the promise that one day you'd be retold all those jokes that were too adult at the time.
Well, newsflash; I still don't know what was so damn funny.
I put the font on my current fic on Verdana (even though I don't really like that one; the letters get too squished together) but it's one of the only fonts I can make tiny when I full-screen my writing window and still read every word; the others end up more distracting ... weird :p
ReplyDeleteSuch a brilliant post; you captured the best parts of our childhoods well :)
I use Verdana, too! Things read back okay with that font, but Garamond will always be my favorite.
DeleteThank you!
My favourite is Californian FB, though lately I've been using Segoe UI a lot (if I had Californian FB on this computer, I'd be using it instead) :p
DeleteLorne tried pointing me to a site where I could download Microsoft Word, but it did not work out. I couldn't even type; it was like a picture, more or less.
DeleteThat really sucks :(
DeleteThe program is expensive, but if you buy it from a store, at least you know it'll work :p
Or one would hope. Sometimes the product isn't even in the case.
Delete