First snow

This morning, the snow came down in clumps. At breakfast, I happened to look down to the Peirce patio and I noticed that there are now tables and chairs: perfect timing. But then there was the snow in clumps. That only lasted a little while, and as the day warmed up, it turned to harsh wind and rain, which is very unpleasant, as I'm sure anyone will attest. So, I'm stuck in my room, needing to do dance homework which will help me to be one with my body. But good news: although all of these windows are so drafty, I finally remembered to turn my heat on. Now, it may seem sort of silly that I left it off for so long, but the heat box is in a particular place. And that place is hidden. Because I've hung a canvas on top of it. Oops. It's a drawing of a camera by a friend of mine. He has a whole series of electronic objects that speak to us on small canvasses.

Here's a saying I learned today: House guests are like fish-- they stink after three days. A Californian friend of mine made a particular print that claimed: "Ideas are like fish." And while I think she meant that they are slippery and illusive, I can't help but tangle her words with the aforementioned saying. (Mostly I just wanted to say aforementioned. Because I like the bends of that word.)

Hills in two places

Today, I returned from a visit to Virginia, and already there is a fly buzzing in my room. The sun shines directly through my window and crests my computer at this time of day. I am thankful for these drab blinds but not for the fly. The drive down merited a vanilla latte but on the way back, I chose hazelnut. I prefer the first. The hills here are like the ones I hiked and the ones in West Virginia: covered in changing trees. The leaves are so pretty this time of year, and I can hardly imagine spending last year with only one fall day. England is missing out.

I came to Virginia with small bug bites on my ankles and frustration with my Islam class. I left with three big bumps that wake me each night with their itchiness: one on each leg and one on my neck. The neck one has formed itself into the more generally accepted mound of a bite, but it first spanned its space flat and long, like Tennessee.

Now, I've come back to two long hard books to read for this week and a project for printmaking. But that's alright: this has been a restful break. And I learned more about myself and interactions with the world than I would've in class. I read some Rilke. Here's some that moved me:

But your solitude will be a hold and home for you even amid very unfamiliar conditions and from there you will find all your ways.

I hope you are finding solitude in your unfamiliar place, becoming familiar.