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Possibly somewhat weird
I've been thinking lately about how unhealthily addicted to fandom I am, and feeling glum and as though I am wasting my life, because this is my freshman year of college and I am spending it on the internet.
I occasionally walk the neighbor's dog, and because I hadn't been on a walk in two weeks and I hadn't been outside in twenty-four hours, I decided this evening to do this. I put it off a while, and when I finally got outside it was misting a bit, but I went forward and as I was walking I thought unhappily about how much I needed to get a life consisting of actual experiences rather than vicariousness, and other similar thoughts.
At some point -- or rather over some length of time -- the mist turned to drizzle turned to rain, until it was raining quite hard, harder than I've been out in in a long time. And I was grateful for my long hair because I know from the few times I've worn it up how much it protects my ears and neck from cold and rain and sunburn and other various and sundry.
I stopped and watched the waves coming in off of Lake Superior because they looked bigger than I had ever seen them, and then tried to figure out, crouching over the rock bank, how much bigger they looked because it was dark and all I could see were the crests, and how much they really were bigger because of the wind.
They sprayed up the rocks fantastically.
I continued walking and one side of me was somewhat wet while the other side was mostly dry, and then I turned around and walked back into the wind, and suddenly the other side got really wet and so did my front. My hair was in my face, and my jeans formed stiff cold armour running smoothly down the fronts of my legs. When I paused and turned around, I discovered that my forehead felt weird when I wrinkled it. It was numb from the cold wind already.
Eventually water trickled first into one shoe, then into the other. Then it started squelching in the first shoe, and at first I just wanted it to stop but then I thought about it. The water burbled and bubbled, and squished in and out of the fuzzy pink socks I was wearing, and squirted between my toes at each step. The water was cool but not cold, and once I got over the feeling that there should not be wetness inside my shoes (as a matter of principle, really), it turned out to be quite pleasant.
Rain on my glasses made my vision blurry, and lights shone as coronas around themselves, blending into each other at the edges. The wind made whistling changing tunes between my ear and my wet strings of hair. I closed my eyes against the wind and rain and practiced how far I could walk before tripping off the edge of the boardwalk.
This walk was the most fun I'd had, the happiest I'd felt, in a while. I got home, took off wet things, the fronts of my thighs informed me that they were numb from cold, then proceeded directly to a burning red heat; the backs of my hands complained that my pockets had been too cold and wet to keep off the wind, I sniffled and shivered and made hot chocolate and wrapped myself in the big flannel-covered comforter, and all the while I've been sincerely, ridiculously, extremely pleased with myself.
I feel alive.
I occasionally walk the neighbor's dog, and because I hadn't been on a walk in two weeks and I hadn't been outside in twenty-four hours, I decided this evening to do this. I put it off a while, and when I finally got outside it was misting a bit, but I went forward and as I was walking I thought unhappily about how much I needed to get a life consisting of actual experiences rather than vicariousness, and other similar thoughts.
At some point -- or rather over some length of time -- the mist turned to drizzle turned to rain, until it was raining quite hard, harder than I've been out in in a long time. And I was grateful for my long hair because I know from the few times I've worn it up how much it protects my ears and neck from cold and rain and sunburn and other various and sundry.
I stopped and watched the waves coming in off of Lake Superior because they looked bigger than I had ever seen them, and then tried to figure out, crouching over the rock bank, how much bigger they looked because it was dark and all I could see were the crests, and how much they really were bigger because of the wind.
They sprayed up the rocks fantastically.
I continued walking and one side of me was somewhat wet while the other side was mostly dry, and then I turned around and walked back into the wind, and suddenly the other side got really wet and so did my front. My hair was in my face, and my jeans formed stiff cold armour running smoothly down the fronts of my legs. When I paused and turned around, I discovered that my forehead felt weird when I wrinkled it. It was numb from the cold wind already.
Eventually water trickled first into one shoe, then into the other. Then it started squelching in the first shoe, and at first I just wanted it to stop but then I thought about it. The water burbled and bubbled, and squished in and out of the fuzzy pink socks I was wearing, and squirted between my toes at each step. The water was cool but not cold, and once I got over the feeling that there should not be wetness inside my shoes (as a matter of principle, really), it turned out to be quite pleasant.
Rain on my glasses made my vision blurry, and lights shone as coronas around themselves, blending into each other at the edges. The wind made whistling changing tunes between my ear and my wet strings of hair. I closed my eyes against the wind and rain and practiced how far I could walk before tripping off the edge of the boardwalk.
This walk was the most fun I'd had, the happiest I'd felt, in a while. I got home, took off wet things, the fronts of my thighs informed me that they were numb from cold, then proceeded directly to a burning red heat; the backs of my hands complained that my pockets had been too cold and wet to keep off the wind, I sniffled and shivered and made hot chocolate and wrapped myself in the big flannel-covered comforter, and all the while I've been sincerely, ridiculously, extremely pleased with myself.
I feel alive.
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♥
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Eek. So far this year has just been . . . nothing. I can't help the feeling that I should be developing some sort of social life or fun activities kind of thing, rather than being on the computer all the time just like last year and the year before and before that . . .
I don't know whether I'm good at new situations, because they usually require experiencing them, so . . .
I dunno. I just feel like I'm in a rut, and I shouldn't be!
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Really glad you understood, though!