listening: song book
It is a cold night tonight. I have to put my hands near my mouth and exhale every few minutes as I'm typing this. Entertaining the thought of getting a pair of gloves so my exposed fingers won't shiver too much as they lay spread on the keyboard, naked to this temperature. Rethinking the thought as typing with gloves, although would certainly help with the comfort factor, would also probably mean hitting five nearby keys with each pounce, so all my sentences will look like this: jiluil fdass wavdnl iodp>;' rewsfjdfhj. Although it probably wouldn't have made much of a difference.
I am wearing my huge winter jacket while I'm typing this, inside my room. It is so cold I think my intestines are shivering. Last night I also slept in this jacket and my fuzzy slippers, on top of burying myself under my heavy quilt (on top of burying myself under. Heh. I'm so cold I can't even construct words that would co-operate with each other). And it was still cold I kept waking up every few hours.
This is an isolated case, though, entirely blameable on the current climate. On a general scale, I am sleeping much better this year. I sort of just realized this. This is a good sign, I guess.
I also sort of just realized I haven't thought of you that much this year. And even if I do, it is fleeting, friendly, harmless. It is without the stomach-churning feeling that has attached itself to the very idea of you. Now, the very idea of you is something I'd put under 'T' for 'to have made sense of'. Or 'H' for 'healthy, humanly amount of attachment'. Or 'S' for 'something I've finally put behind'. I am growing accustomed to this un-churning half of a year. I guess this is a good sign too.
I am amused, though. Now I think it's a splendid idea to remain friends. Now I think Westlife is unforgivably corny and should be put to sleep. Now I think people should get over a broken relationship in no more than two weeks, not two years. It is rather incredible. I feel like a shampoo commercial. Before and after.
I think the human mind should be applauded not for its ability to remember, but for its ability to forget.
previous entry: sharleen-crazy (may 14, 2002)