when i stepped out into the rain this morning, it struck me that it was not a winter rain, though there were still some scattered spots of snow. it was cool, not cold, windy but not biting. the beginning of spring rain's productive career, i'd like to think. the lack of bitter cold meant that i didn't mind getting wet and the walk between campuses, the inevitable puddles and trying to find the best routes through the use of guesswork and entertaining jumps.
i saw someone sending a letter yesterday and realised that i haven't seen anyone do that in quite a while. i haven't done it myself in about a year, even though i consider letter-writing to be an admirable, intimate institution that should be continued at all costs. it's just that those blue boxes are everywhere and i don't even notice most of the time.
today consisted of the rain, phone tag with elizabeth between classes, italian wedding soup, then back to the room where i've been since, happily dry and slightly tired from this week's uncharacteristic late nights. i read
the rime of the ancient mariner and slept for a couple of hours while i thought about how little i have in common with the people i live with. they were and still are sitting in the living room area playing some militaristic fucking video game and hurling homophobic insults when digital death comes knocking at their screen. last weekend my 'i need to get out of here' feelings, in regard to next year, started picking up more and more, and the week since hasn't given me any reason to doubt my sincerity.
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