(no subject)

[tylik]

The wind here is kind of intense, all the more so on "the bluff" (we are on the edge of what seems to be the only hill in Cleveland), and even more so in our fifth story corner apartment. We've had the windows open all day. (In part because the ventilation isn't that great, and the nice weather gives us a chance to air the place out.) The wind moans constantly, past our windows, past something on the stairwell. The standard metaphor is "like the souls of the damned". Which seems a little dark, or perhaps I don't have much of a handle on what damnation is supposed to entail. (Um. "Like the souls of the living"... "...of the attached"... hm. Just not quite the same ring.) I recently re-read Bujolds Paladin of Souls, wherein souls were permitted to become ghosts as a kind of mercy. I can kind of imagine that, that the wind could be the voices of the dissolving, half remembered ones. It doesn't sound particularly unfriendly, but perhaps my opinion will change as things get colder.

Not looking forward to the cold, particularly. I need to find a nice warm cap I can put my hair up into. I've had several, I seem to be quite good at losing them. Feh. (Someone lost a cute little cap near the tree I practice under. After letting it sit there for about ten days, I finally brought it in. Hm.)

Productive couple of days, though I still am shaky and odd feeling, and seem to do best with about twelve hours of sleep. But I trained. Of course, then it was all I could do not to curl up in a sunbeam and sleep for the afternoon. (Instead I curled up with neuroanatomy. I'm not sure if drawing all the structures out is the most efficient way to study, but it's got to be one of the most pleasant.)