Miss from Mundania

Sometimes, I find myself missing Mundania, with its unglimmering sky, colors that don't leap to rub against my fingertips, dayap that have no names, a solitary Moose, Veet applied in the privacy of the bathroom. Of waking up in the mornings and deciding to cut class, just because I don't want to go, not because I don't want to leave. Of hating school because it is quintessentially detestable, not because there's a need to balance the loving of other things. Of 4 AMs spent drooling in bed, instead of waiting, perched, on my fire exit, or trying to expand my face-making repertoire. Of just writing a story and not having every sentence glow on the surface of the page, in accompaniment to an aria of all its meanings and double-meanings and pseudo-meanings. Of not writing poems. Of not seeing a poem or two in a dinner conversation about a cat who stayed for only a year at someone's house, about the unsmiling man on TV who could crush uncooked potatoes with his bare hands, of the extended-adopted family in contrived poses atop a desktop computer. Of nothing.

I miss feeling blah. Not because I miss miss it, that I long for it -- it's just that every thing's been so blah-riffic before that I've gotten used to it. And now. Now.

Sometimes, I raise my head from whatever comfortable distraction I've immersed myself in, letting all the crazy juju whizz by around me, at times plucking bits and pieces of my expanding, no, expansive self and just freaking look. At everything. The colors. The feelings. The poems in the carpet. A person. The shadows of another. Sometimes, myself.

I'm not hoping for the blah-ness to return. I'm just happy that it's dragging itself by without me in tow.

I WANT TO HUG EVERYONE.

. . . someone shoot me, please.



PS
Let's see: a paper for Philo; group report and research paper for Theo; a long test for Histo, plus its random papers and TA arrgh-age; deluge of papers for Nonfic; a story, then two, then three more for Fiction. Plus all the random bullshit pervading my life.

Early hours of certain Monday nights, no-commitment Wednesdays and Thursdays-after-730 brighten me up every single time that breeze by.

Oh, and they set a midnight curfew sa dorm. Rawr.