A River

could not run through Columbus right now, because it is really cold. We had a lot of snow today, and usually I get grumpy at bad weather but I was really into it. I went out and walked in it a lot. I had my hi-tops on, and they are the best snow shoes. The snow was falling so heavily that snow was going in my eyes when I walked and in my nose when I breathed. I even inhaled a snowflake down my throat, which felt crazy. Passing by Mirror Lake on the way to RPAC was so calming. The snow was glittering, the white lights are still on the trees, and students were playing ice hockey on the frozen pond. When everything is covered in white snow, there is little to distract your eye and everything looks simpler. The whole world appears more as it truly is.

Last night my friend David told me that I was melancholy. When he heard the music I've been listening to, he said it was no wonder I felt that way. It's not only that though. I just re-read A River Runs Through It. I've really been remiss in not telling everyone I know to read it. I cried for the last 3 pages. I've read it before and seen the movie at least 20 times so it's not like I didn't know what was going to happen. That story is not a novella, it's long-form poetry. Seriously. If I ever wrote anything that approximated that story, I could die happily.