I AM A SHADOW CAPTAIN

Guys, vague allusions to songs are awesome. Hello it is very early in the morning and a small fly just flew in front of my face. Typing in the dark is hard, a bit.

Well hello to everyone who reads this. God damn it took me a while to find that period. I sorta feel bad because my roommate is sleeping and my keyboard is not that quiet. If need be, I can justify it by remembering she dries her hair at 8 in the morning. Thank god her internship is over. I think such terrible thoughts when I'm awoken at 7 am.

Things here are swell. Just a few more weeks of class left (how the hell did that happen?) and then a lovely summer semester. A bitchin' professor is teaching a class about "War in the Modern World." I am ridiculously excited--this is the same guy who taught the American Intelligence class last semester. I was all !!!!! when I saw his name in the summer catalog. I wish his class was at a different time, because another awesome professor (my first college prof, actually) is teaching a class about the Crusades that isn't ungodly early. But there is a scheduling conflict, boo. Also, expensive (!!) like woah.

By the time this semester is over, I will know whether I'm going to Germany or not. It um, is weird to think about. I sort have been assuming I'll be going, like when talking about class registration and dorms and all, but in that way of "it's not really happening" and if I get in--well, then it's really happening. I will be all panicked out by the time I get there. I am confident in my ability to adapt, because I can look behind me and note situations in which this quality came to light. Also I tend to glaze over things once they've happened. I guess schooling myself to live in the moment worked? I am sorry if I forget something important you tell me.

I am still working out the kinks and details of my DNIR universe. It is difficult to make it more realistic, people-wise, because I think the general idea is that young, hip people are the awesome computer hackers, but these guys are older? And not so stereotypically cyberpunk? I keep adding layers to the story, and they are all fringe layers. I still don't have a resolution or arc for the main plot. It's so delicious to build outlying intrigue though, and I am not a girl to resist its temptations.

I cannot wait until it is thunderstorm season. Today the clouds were large and billowing and glorious and I just wanted to watch them for ever. It is like watching people walk. Absolutely hypnotic. I get such a rush of emotion from towering clouds--I can't even form the idea into words, but sometimes I just look up and bam. I'm in love. Do not inquire as to how many photos of clouds I have on my phone, because the answer is many. Thunderstorms are a different beast; the humidity fills the air and everything is moving and static at the same time. I like hearing the differences in rain, and the thick rumble of thunder in my chest. My future house will need to have a covered porch to accomodate my infatuation. Guys I like weather.

Well besides that there is not much going on in my life. I still like earrings and I still have all my fingers.

THOSE KINDS OF WORDS

There was a welling of pressure at the base of her stem and her spine and she woke from the dream. There were sprinklings of dust underneath her fingerpinks, misty white and translucent. Too much sugar in the bones.
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I feel like a lot of my free writing begins the same way. Past tense + vague female character + words not used as the proper form of speech + ending sentences that are on a slightly different track (wow that was eloquent). Oh well.

Yesterday I turned in my application to the study abroad office. Now all I'm waiting for are my recommendation letters, and y'know, if I get accepted or not. I really want to go. This is something I'll congratulate myself about when I'm older. My only fear is that it won't mean much, once it's over.

Tomorrow is my last day of classes before spring break! And of course they're the most work intensive. However, in my German history class we're interviewing an 98 yr old about stuff (the class is based in oral histories). But I still need to muster through Parzival (Parzival......!! *fist*) and ugh. Taking classes you don't have prerequisites for: not always the best. But then I'm free!

And then it is time to cook! I'm planning on making apple steak and (I can't find my list) stuffed onions and chili and bratwurst and maybe black bottom cupcakes. I love kitchens! And cooking supplies! I do not like buying groceries! I would protest if I didn't need them so hard. C'mon, seriously? Spending ~$50 a trip (or more) on shit that'll be gone in a week or two? It makes me angry.

Whelp here have another tiny freewrite (which, lo and behold, follows the Formula):
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Being sick was a way to know her body. When she heaved she felt the hot line of esophagus reaching into her belly, and every pore of her lungs as she gagged on the bile retching. Broken bones to feel where her muscles began and sprains to feel the boundary of a bone. She could tell you how each allergy tasted and paint you a picture of nausea. Her body was a masterpiece under duress. She was not a fan of doctors.