teatime

I made my tea properly this time--it's not bitter. I'm just drinking it too fast because the office is cold tonight. I blame groundhogs.

It's funny. I've always felt that I lived in the wrong time, but I'm never quite certain which other era I would prefer. I used to think of the distant future. Then of the hippie generation. Now, I long for 19th century Europe. I'm regressing. I'm digressing. I'm tired and cryptic, and just deleted the little word game I was playing with myself while writing this--searching for rhyming gerunds. Regressing, digressing, destressing, addressing, repressing, caressing. Oh, but I am silly sometimes.

I've found a new favorite word: absconding. As in, the night seems to have absconded with my sanity and left no forwarding address. I'm wishing for the world to warm up again so I can take walks at midnight and see the stars in their multitudes. It struck me recently that that's one of the things that most bothers me about living in the city. I can't see the stars, nor can I take late-night walks and feel perfectly safe. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I don't go out much anymore.

Another cool word I learned by watching House M.D.: myoclonic jerk--the sometimes violent muscle twitch that prevents me from falling asleep at my desk or sometimes in bed. The brain decides that the body is dying, and tries to wake it up. Does a good job, too, but I'm not dying, little paranoid brain. I'm just sleepy. Which ultimately means, I'm glad for the tea.