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There will be snow
8/12/13 22:09 I am writing more. This is either a good sign, or just characteristics of exam periods and the anything-is-better-than-studying mentality. Whatever the case, at least I am restarting, and not drawing a huge blank of my life.
My FYS professor told me once that researching and reconstructing is difficult, because most people don't keep a record of their life. Except for those people who expect to be famous (followed by hilarious comments on letters by famous figures who are fascinating to read just because they expect to be studied later on). For me it's something different. I am not wishing to be famous, but rather to be able to remember what has happened to me. (Need to remind myself to keep searching for that lost notebook where I wrote down most of my teenage angst).
Anyway, going into the post proper, it's the first snow of the season today. As in real snow - the snow that leaves traces on the ground a day afterwards. It is so beautiful that it left me in awe. It made me want to write a poem about it - not that I know anything about poetry. I am however not an English major, and my language is no longer beautiful as it used to be, so I would leave that for another day. Just a stream of consciousness regarding snow as I was walking across the snowfield.
Snow is so much like sand, the way they shimmer under the moonlight and scatter around. The way that footsteps can be traced back to their origins, yet can be erased as easily as they are created. If footsteps on the beach are erased by the wind, snow steps melted into wet pathways, just as if it has been raining.
I was walking in my rainboots, and I realize that they are not fully water proof. Either that or I confuse wetness with coldness - both sensations feel the same at very low temperature. Yet the feeling when my boots left behind those footsteps is indescribable. The feeling that someone may know that I have walked this path just by looking at the footsteps - a natural record of my walk around the Quad - gives me a sense of existence. I exist, I am visible, I am recognized just by leaving behind those footsteps on the snow. Even if they will melt away into puddles of water just like a huge downpour, they remain for more than a second on the ground. Maybe it's enough, maybe I just need to know that there's someone out there who acknowledge me for a short-lived moment.
It's pure bliss. And purity. The blissful moments that I walk across the quad are just priceless.
Another thing, snow makes me think of Christmas, and all sort of happy, fuzzy, warm feelings. Wonder how something so cold can bring about an emotion so wonderful. On another note, it's probably just dominant culture manifests itself though - take note about how I socialize all of that. Oh sociology, look what you have done to my romantic side.
My FYS professor told me once that researching and reconstructing is difficult, because most people don't keep a record of their life. Except for those people who expect to be famous (followed by hilarious comments on letters by famous figures who are fascinating to read just because they expect to be studied later on). For me it's something different. I am not wishing to be famous, but rather to be able to remember what has happened to me. (Need to remind myself to keep searching for that lost notebook where I wrote down most of my teenage angst).
Anyway, going into the post proper, it's the first snow of the season today. As in real snow - the snow that leaves traces on the ground a day afterwards. It is so beautiful that it left me in awe. It made me want to write a poem about it - not that I know anything about poetry. I am however not an English major, and my language is no longer beautiful as it used to be, so I would leave that for another day. Just a stream of consciousness regarding snow as I was walking across the snowfield.
Snow is so much like sand, the way they shimmer under the moonlight and scatter around. The way that footsteps can be traced back to their origins, yet can be erased as easily as they are created. If footsteps on the beach are erased by the wind, snow steps melted into wet pathways, just as if it has been raining.
I was walking in my rainboots, and I realize that they are not fully water proof. Either that or I confuse wetness with coldness - both sensations feel the same at very low temperature. Yet the feeling when my boots left behind those footsteps is indescribable. The feeling that someone may know that I have walked this path just by looking at the footsteps - a natural record of my walk around the Quad - gives me a sense of existence. I exist, I am visible, I am recognized just by leaving behind those footsteps on the snow. Even if they will melt away into puddles of water just like a huge downpour, they remain for more than a second on the ground. Maybe it's enough, maybe I just need to know that there's someone out there who acknowledge me for a short-lived moment.
It's pure bliss. And purity. The blissful moments that I walk across the quad are just priceless.
Another thing, snow makes me think of Christmas, and all sort of happy, fuzzy, warm feelings. Wonder how something so cold can bring about an emotion so wonderful. On another note, it's probably just dominant culture manifests itself though - take note about how I socialize all of that. Oh sociology, look what you have done to my romantic side.
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