November 27th, 2002

Nescafe rabbit

With a couple of wires, you - yes, you - could be Pippi Longstocking!

Today, my hair is in pigtail braids. I love pigtail braids. I love the way they tuck behind my ears and fly around when I turn my head. I love how everyone tells me I look cute in pigtail braids. I love putting ribbons in them for going to see Harry Potter - one red and one yellow - and wearing my cloak (which I've had since high school) and having people turn around and look as I walk past. I love how people ask me where I got it, and I love saying "I made it." I need to make another cloak.
I need to see if I can con Mom into making me a dress for the St. Vitus Dance. It'd be fun to go in garb.

Neurology exam this morning. I made cupcakes last night, chocolate ones, with fudge icing, and forgot to leave a note for people to eat them. So I had to tell Ryken this morning that it was okay to eat them. I made cupcakes, with one hand on the mixer and the other one going through migraine notes. And I read the book. And I got a 63% before the curve, which is just fine by me, because that means I'm still high-passing Medicine even before Lowene curves it.
Nick kicked its butt, but nobody's surprised by that. We forgive him for being too smart for our good; there's always someone like that. Everyone else was lucky if they passed at all...like a quarter of the class. Mostly...because nobody cared.

It's breaktime now, finally, and I'm going to go hop in my car, go home, type up a few notes, and then take the evening off. And the next day. Make a carrot cake to take to somebody's Thanksgiving (maybe the Bevers' tomorrow, or if they don't want any food, to Matt's family one on Saturday) and clean house a bit.

Ryken leaves on the 2nd, which is sort of a strange thought. I'm so used to having him around...and I worry about what will happen. Be careful. Write. Come back and see me. All that stuff sounds so trite, but I don't know what else to say. Don't let the Air Force break your heart. Figure out who you are. Find a direction to your life, so you aren't so...lost.
I'm going to miss him.

Sadly, I'm already making plans for the corner that his stuff has occupied. I think, over Christmas break, I'll redecorate a bit.

Today, my hair is in pigtail braids. Yay.
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Nescafe rabbit

This morning:

It is cold out, this morning, cold and crisp and sharp and clear. It is winter out; I can see my breath in the wind. There is snow on the ground, fresh and fallen, crisp and bright, reflecting the morning sunlight in diamond flakes. I have seen this effect before, when tiny pieces of bright plastic fall into the cotton-ball snow of a ceramic village and tremble, sparkling lamplight back in a catch-your-eye glitter. I have seen this morning before, with snow fallen fresh and soft, winter-cold on an empty campus. I have been here before.
Have I seen it, though, truly? Has this brilliance, fascinating as it is, struck my eye with such infinite poetry before? It must have, for this humming in my soul, this sudden contentment with the glint and silence of the light's play seems familiar somehow.
The sidewalks are slick; I walk on snow-covered grass and feel the sharp bite of the frozen air on my nose and my ears. Meeta is leaving; she has a long drive ahead of her, and she's already taken today's exam. It's not easy, she tells me. It doesn't matter. The worry and the fear and the driving frustration are as frozen as the morning, lost and far away. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters for these few moments but the stillness that surrounds me, leaching into my bones and cooling my blood, the crunch of feet on ice-ensheathed blades of glass, the smooth slick reflections of what, yesterday, were puddles on the pavement.
It is a moment, frozen, a moment to be remembered and embraced, sharp and still and cold as the coming winter. It is time; it is now.
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