Chaotic images swirl around me: burnt moths falling like snow, ream's worths of blank paper fluttering all around, and a small metallic circle. I can't comprehend what they are, what they signify, and I cry aloud as they surround me. I clench my eyes shut as they all press in, and suddenly there is an absence in the space around me. One eyes cracks open the tiniest slit to see absolutely nothing. I open my eyes fully and blink several times, but to no avail. I cannot see. I reach out my arms, to feel the offending visions that had but moments ago pursued me, but they sweep through empty space. Blind and confused, I fall to the ground, weeping through sightless eyes.

And then a voice comes faintly into my world. A quiet, melodic voice whose very sound seems to fill my body with strength and purge me of exhaustion. I can hardly make out the words, but the tone is clear. Calm. Relax. This too shall pass.

I woke up yesterday morning to find an inch of snow on the ground.

Hey, back again. Blogging has been sporadic lately, I know. The quick update for the recent past is as follows:

Wrote a lot of midterm papers
Went back to Evanston for the weekend
Returned to another midterm paper
Celebrated final midterm's completion with annual Apple Day festivities, involving cider and pie and caramel and other such goodness

Now I'm taking my time, enjoying the fact that I don't have an imminent deadline. I've been doing more transcription in hopes of getting an a cappella group active and performing next semester. Requests and recommendations are welcome.

I've been thinking a lot about the future... Making plans for next year, the year after, and so on, for quite some time. Sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it's a bit much to handle. We'll see how many of them come to fruition.

I'm discovering some of the quieter joys of school. There are parties and impromtu gatherings and movie nights and so on, but then there are also the nights spent reading in your room along with your roommates and sitting out under the stars (not as much, now that Autumn has finally decided to show up) and burrowing underneath the covers and relaxing (more so now, for the aforementioned reason).

I love my Poetry and War class, but today's reading and discussion made me physically ill. The fact that someone can wholeheartedly advocate certain abominable things so artfully literally turns my stomach.

Tunes: "Missing," Everything But The Girl; "Come Downstairs and Say Hello," Guster.

(For those that don't know, Potash Hill is the hill that Marlboro is built on)

So first off, it's midterm season, which means lots of papers. Dropped off one today at the very last minute, but it's done and not too atrocious. I have another due Friday right before I leave for home on break, and one more two days after I get back to school.

I'm hosting a prospie on Thursday. It's gonna be interesting being on the other side of the situation I was in last year. I'm looking forward to it.

Two disasters befell us this weekend, one natural, one un-. We were hit by a massive amount of rain, dubbed "Vermonsoon." It rained torrentially for a full day and then some. Then, just as the rain began to clear, our bathroom ceiling started to drip... then dribble... then a large chunk of the ceiling fell in. Needless to say, that bathroom is currently out of commission.

I can't wait to get home. I love school, but I need a few day's breather.

Pictures are coming, really. Finding someone with a digital camera I can borrow has been a harder task than it seemed.

The campus-wide plague is finally showing signs of ebbing, although there's still a perpetual chorus of coughs and sniffles.

The turning leaves are beautiful. I'm told that I haven't seen anything yet.

There's this phenomenon on campus called "Freshman mating season." Couples are springing up everywhere, making campus look not unlike a New England hippie version of Dawson's Creek. There are cute bits, angsty bits, and the whole thing is a constant reminder that my girlfriend is approximately thirteen hundred miles away (not that I'm counting or anything).

After three and a half more papers, I'm returning home for the first time. I'm not really sure what to expect.

Early fairy tales are, as Diana Lord would say, "full of innundo."

It doesn't look to be as hard to immigrate to Canada as I thought. Something to bear in mind for later in life.

My room is clean for the first time since we all moved in. It's a pleasant change, and we've agreed that we're going to try and keep it this way for a change.

I find myself paying more attention to houses these days.