These few days it's been raining furiously, with a vehemence; the raindrops slap the pavement viciously, the thunder clears its throat and shivers the smokiness of the sky. I am so happy I can hardly bear it. Half of me wants to hurl myself out into the wildness of the storm and feel the cold stinging water kiss me into a thousand pieces till I melt into the next flash of lightning. The other half of me hugs the window frame with a deep appreciation of how the shelter and the storm mutually compliment each other. I shiver with delight in the sweater I finally get to wear (though it rapidly becomes too warm) and revel in the deliciousness of being able to make myself a hot drink and fetch a biscuit, to curl my legs under me, even if to write an essay, as long as it is indoors while the storm rages.
Which reminds me, there is indeed an essay on analyzing language and media waiting for me. I haven't gotten any further than planning vaguely to write something about the influence of consumerism in the depiction of contemporary masculinity--to justify having spent an inordinate amount of time watching (and laughing over) the infamous Old Spice commercials.
The weather outside is delightfully bad, a half eaten chocolate chip and cranberry cookie is looking at me...I'm on a horse!