Filling the empty head

Outside, a perfect snowfall is raging. It is like little pieces of cloud are touching down on the ground. Like invisible little angels or satyrs are throwing snowballs indiscriminately, relying on the law of averages to hit everyone and everything moving outside. And where am I? I'm inside studying for biochemistry; with regards to the spectacle outside, I am an empty-head; snow is a passing fancy, but cold hard carbon compounds are calling me much more clamorously. I have to fill this head with their nougaty goodness.

Except, I wasn't aware that my head needed any more filling. I thought all the other "stuff" I've been subjected to will do. But apparently that is not the case.

I apologize for every entry being about studying, but that is all that exists now. I've determined to be hardcore this week. That, of course, is an exaggeration. I've lost dozens of hours this weekend. But I'm getting to that scarily obsessive state. For example: the last two nights, the themes of my dreams were quite obviously derivatives of what I was studying.

The one other thing that happened was an excursion to the mall; I now have a very expensive, but hopefully indefinitely durable, winter jacket. The only problem was that an animal had to die for it. I wallowed in my hypocrisy, then came to terms with it. I think in this way, I can truly feel thankful for the warmth it will provide me, much like the First Nations people, except in my watered-down, cynical way. Besides, the poor creature was probably killed for its meat.

Consider: "the sadness that comes out of nowhere, prompted by a perusal of childhood photographs or mementos. The sadness the is directionles; that spreads and penetrates everything for a short while. There is a stuffed elephant that always prompts this for me; it takes me back to the welfare days when it was my escape from the yelling in the next room."