Impressions... Pictures floating around in your mind, brought forth by the little things. The way the light falls upon yellowing leaves, the bite of frost in the air and how the chill nips at your cheeks when you step outside. The way the steam rises from your breath and swirls as you walk by, dancing and breaking the glow of sun that seeps down through barren branches. Voices echo between houses older than your mind cal fully grasp, laughter mingles with dazed murmurs as people step out from the refectory and stroll down the little paths that slither through campus, where naked trees stand on parade and lends a sense of peace and calm, of stability and safety to the area. Once inside, the crisp morning air is replaced by the warm scent of textile as I enter. The hazy dawn is broken here by the sober light from fluorescent lamps that erase the shadows and leaves little room for nonsense - though as I step further in the sound of voices break the barren feel and I breathe out, seeking comfort from the chill that knowledge and learning without humanity sometimes bring. Individuality is what they teach above else, and there are many individuals that mingle through the lecture halls and stroll through the corridors, absorbed in their tasks and processes. Much like a puzzle, ideas fall from eyes and lips and drip onto papers, flow through the air and bounce back from the steady walls that our teachers provide, slowly shaping into something tangible through the scraping of pencils on paper, scissors through fabric and the steady throb of looms that resound like heartbeats. A place of creativity and thinking, where new doors are opened and others created in places you didn't think a door could fit, where change comes slowly and the step onto a new path is celebrated through the slow smile of the ones around you. It's never as hard as it seems. There are ways to do anything, and more than once I have found myself surprised when I stand there, soaked to the elbows in water and with the scent of wool heavy in the air, staring down at a creation that I never would have been able to understand before I tried it. All it took was a nudge, a 'go ahead and try', an encouraging smile and a few words of guidance and there I was, smiling and filled with a sense of achievement as I hugged my first woven piece of cloth to my chest, or with my brow furrowed in concentration as I guide a rod through carefully tied strings, hoping and praying that this way will succeed and save me hours of repetitious work in redoing it all... By the way, I didn't have to saw off the stick that my weave was tied to. A kind janitor helped me change it for a shorter one, and now it doesn't only work, it even helped straighten out my work so that it's even. Believe me, you want to stay on the good side of the janitors because they are the best friends a person can have. How much they know, so many things they can do - and how many simple ways they know of fixing your problems! Honestly, I think janitors are among the nicest, most intelligent people out there. My deepest respect to you all, oh hardworking people. You are so underestimated, and get far too little credit for the things you do. All hail the janitors! *pauses to go eat dinner* To imagine, how easily the mood can be disrupted. Dinner managed to kill the muse and made me loose track on where I was going with this rant. Something about cardamom tea and feelings of tranquility and peace, of good moods and accomplishing things... At the very least it was a nice thought. I really do regret not being able to convey it to you properly. I'll try it again some other day. For now, at least we can celebrate my 90th post in the scrapbook. Hooray, way to go. Today I saw a goshawk strike a dove. It began to tear the feathers off before the bird was dead, and I was amazed at how the hawk could manage to hold the pigeon down even though it was smaller in size. Maybe I should have been reacting differently to the fact that a life was taken right in front of my eyes, but while others wrinkled their noses and made sad grimaces, I found myself smiling and silently complimenting the hawk on the successful hunt. They don't succeed as often as one might think and it was an impressive display to see it swoop down and take the dove, so I'd say it was well earned. I hope that my lack of compassion for the pigeon isn't a bad sign. It's not like I don't feel respect for the life that was given up, I just don't feel saddened that the hawk got to fill its belly and live for a while longer. Victory for the strong, luck for the rest, I suppose. I think I know where I belong in that grouping. On a side note, I really hate when people just disappear. It's easy to say that I shouldn't worry, but when someone poofs for several days without a word and with no hint at all that they were going off or were to get busy, I can't help myself. I do worry, even though it won't help to make them reappear or come back sooner. It's probably nothing to fret over and I know I'll feel silly when they come back, but... Hm, I don't know. Maybe it's my need for control that comes out now and then, or I might just be a worrywart. Who knows, it might even be my fault.. If it's something I did then please tell me... I found this song the other day, and was amazed. I didn't know that they were back... I look forward to finding more new songs ^^ |