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I should be writing my Russian societies paper - and I am, really, honestly - but I have tunnelvision and an elevated heart rate. I hate pseudoephedrine. If only it didn't work so damn well. I can breathe, which is so, so necessary, but thinking is very difficult indeed.
Fall is suddenly & undeniably here. The trees are changing slooooowly, hesitantly, perhaps unsure that another unseasonable heatwave isn't lurking just around the corner. The sun shone yesterday & today but rain is in the cards for tomorrow, heavy rain so says rainorshine.com. Last time this year I was a melancholy girl, but this year it just makes me want a house. A real house, with trees. I will never be able to fully emphasize the utter necessity of trees.
It isn't that I need to be surrounded by acres of trees-nothing-but-trees like I was in the old house (though that's quite nice). But I need some trees, and they need to have history. They need to be tall & weary & shady. The problem with my mother's home is everything feels too new, the houses and the thin scrappy trees. You can't feel anything there. It is empty, detached, uninspiring. Very lifeless. What makes a neighborhood? Age & trees. I like neighborhoods, but only the real ones, not these pseudo-things pawned off by proponents of expanding suburbia.
Northampton, now, has lovely neighborhoods. I could live here forever and be a happy girl indeed.
Girl - I am approaching the age where some people of the female variety become touchy about the use of girl vs. woman. (Like my mother.) I understand this, but have such a hard time with it. Though I am twenty-one I do not feel like a woman. I still feel like a girl. Most females in their early twenties are still girlish to me. I have no trouble with women as a plural form - ie "Smith women," etc. - but don't make me call you woman. Please. It's not an attempt to devalue anyone; indeed, I still call most males boys and that's often irregardless of age. So.
Estonia. Latvia. Yeah.
Fall is suddenly & undeniably here. The trees are changing slooooowly, hesitantly, perhaps unsure that another unseasonable heatwave isn't lurking just around the corner. The sun shone yesterday & today but rain is in the cards for tomorrow, heavy rain so says rainorshine.com. Last time this year I was a melancholy girl, but this year it just makes me want a house. A real house, with trees. I will never be able to fully emphasize the utter necessity of trees.
It isn't that I need to be surrounded by acres of trees-nothing-but-trees like I was in the old house (though that's quite nice). But I need some trees, and they need to have history. They need to be tall & weary & shady. The problem with my mother's home is everything feels too new, the houses and the thin scrappy trees. You can't feel anything there. It is empty, detached, uninspiring. Very lifeless. What makes a neighborhood? Age & trees. I like neighborhoods, but only the real ones, not these pseudo-things pawned off by proponents of expanding suburbia.
Northampton, now, has lovely neighborhoods. I could live here forever and be a happy girl indeed.
Girl - I am approaching the age where some people of the female variety become touchy about the use of girl vs. woman. (Like my mother.) I understand this, but have such a hard time with it. Though I am twenty-one I do not feel like a woman. I still feel like a girl. Most females in their early twenties are still girlish to me. I have no trouble with women as a plural form - ie "Smith women," etc. - but don't make me call you woman. Please. It's not an attempt to devalue anyone; indeed, I still call most males boys and that's often irregardless of age. So.
Estonia. Latvia. Yeah.