Strep throat, raspberry tea, friendly friend fires

Well, pending opinion of a certified doctor, I seem to have contracted the awful deadly miserable virus known commonly as strep throat. So I'm working from bed, drinking raspberry tea and eating lemon raspberry cake and hoping I don't infect my lovely friend who has brought these treats. Also, I have shamelessly been feeding my addiction to the more recent Panic at the Disco album. Yes, I know I am dishonering all of my musical taste to this point, but it's a good album, and it makes me happy. So I don't care what you might have to say about it!

Libraries, Fat Rain Clouds

I have this view outside the fourth floor giant fourth floor windows of the library of these big, fat, grey clouds trundling along, awfully low and blurred by the solid whiteness that they fade into. These are rain clouds. Real rain clouds- not the slate grey, can't tell if they'll rain on you or snow on you or just drape you with a general sense of dreariness and misery, clouds. These are real; heavy air, visible edges, bloated, slightly foreboding (but not storm-like), accented by stillness rain clouds. I am having this lingering notion of being back home in Japan. Or out in the Texas countryside. It really depends on which eye I'm looking through and which memories I'm loitering in. But it feels nice. It feels like home! Rain in Scotland is so...lazy. I want storms, unpredictability, menacing stillness, these things! I remember absolutely hating being in the library during a rainstorm in Tokyo, because the library was so damn hot and you always got soaked and then had to work soggy and steamy, while you couldn't tell if you were trickling rain or sweat from your neck. I have nothing else for today, except that my computer has a crippling virus and is completely unusable, and so I have been forced to relocate to the library for any writing, work, or computer related activities. Sad computer. I'm going to buy some cookies now.

Two Months Later!!!

Well oops. I've become a home-loving, embroidery learning, novel reading hermit. And I've neglected everything but writing poetry and reading old novels. Recently, I find myself staring blankly at people whenever they try to conduct a conversation with me. As though I can't figure out why they would do such a thing. Or what is an appropriate thing to say in response. Or really, what the hell they're talking about and why I'm not at home enjoying a good book and a cup of tea. I'm turning into that girl that was raised by wolves and has no idea how to conduct herself with people. Only I don't eat raw meat. Or pee on the shrubs. And as much as I would have like to have been, wasn't raised by wolves. So I have no good excuse. Except that I keep hoping this is maybe just a reflex of having been insanely over social in Tokyo for the last two years, so now my mind and my body are like... stay home! learn how to embroider! Write poems in a Texan accent with random Japanese onomatopoeia! Yes, thank you, brain. What a great idea. Then I can alienate everyone and increase my caffeine addiction. Oh well, this is a happy time. The Edinburgh weather is a weeee bit dreary, but spring planting is only a month away! Turnips and carrots and squash, oh my! And shiso and chamomile and lavender! At least the snow drifts are gone, and hiking and bicycling are now possible again! And walking without slipping and brushing death every two steps. Excuse me death, it's just these damn feet, they don't seem to want to take orders! Sorry if I keep grabbing your robe to steady myself, it's nothing personal, really.
In other news, I have been notified that I have won a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg prize. Well hot damn. I had forgotten I even entered stuff. I will find out on Friday what this officially means. Until then, I hold my breath and try to keep from doing a little happy dance. So that when Friday comes, I'll have all this suppressed energy that will explode into a BIG happy dance, possibly accompanied by song! And the hugging of random people on the street.
Oh and did I mention that Borges is doing that thing again, where he pops up in really random places? He's been showing himself in all manner of bizarre places over the past few days, and to finish the night, I discover I'm NOT THE ONLY ONE with this weird problem.