I went out on Friday and had a jolly good time with my friends, even though the only intoxication I experienced was slight rush of fever which prodded me to take an early bus home, whilst my friends were quite a lot more than a little tipsy. But it was fun and everything, and I really wanted to stay on but I knew I'd regret it if I would, so I went home at midnight.
Sure enough, I've been feeling really weak and feverish since then, although my temperature's not that high so I'm not exactly dying here or anything, I'm just very very frail (not to mention hypocondriac) and my eating and sleeping habits have been really odd lately... I think I need to have more vitamins or something simple as that...
Anyway. I've been looking through my swedish poems (I'll deal with the english later) especielly the more recent ones, and I've been trying to tell whether or not I can put them/some together in a collection. On my walk today (I've been forcing myself out on walks at least once a day recently, because I need the fresh air as well as the exercise/movement) I strolled in the woods behind the cemetery and then proceeded up the northern hill, and I "wrote" a poem, in english - in my head, about grandma's funeral, and after I'd written it down properly when I got home and edit it a bit, it turned out alright...
I really haven't done much since my last entry. Mostly I've just scribbled and read in various books/slash on the internet, and watched a few movies. Tomorrow I'm going to have to go into town, because I need to have a word with my caseworker at the job office about some forms... I really rather stay at home, not because I'm lazy or anything, but because I don't feel really social at the moment. Sure I prefer to have at least one member of my family nearby, because I feel really lonely as well, but with them I don't have to put on an act of some kind, and be interesting and attractive and fun - like you feel you have to in public, or with friends (or at least I do), or even an act of civilry if you're in a bad mood. Because they're family, if you know what I mean, so you can just be yourself - or less, which it feels like I am right now...
I can tell you one thing though, it is definitely autumn now. Whenever I try to write something, especially poetry-wise, I end up describing the season because that's almost all I think and feel at the moment, because it's so unbelievably beautiful! The colours and the light, the feel of the cool fresh air, the smell of rain and grass and earth, the frightful anticipation of what is to come... I think autumn, at least during the brief time of its peak, is the most beautiful season. Because it's so vividly alive at the same time as it's obviously falling apart. Even before arriving, it's already moving away again.
I think if I were to be a seaon: if my personality or my life was to be described in the metaphor of a season: I'd like it to be autumn.
Because autumn comes thundering into the picture, changes everything abruptly - bright and breathtaking with life and firery colours and freshness and energy - and it is literally as though it sets the world on fire upon its arrival - and as opposed to fading away ever so slowly into a withering weakness which gradually becomes a nothingness eventually replaced, it chooses to let go and fall (and I could easily draw a parallell to a certain angel here, but I don't think I have to...) and then it's past.
The time inbetween autumn and winter though I think is the worst season, the nomansland of watered down dullness of greys and browns, and not much else to speak of. Just a long painful wait of the relief of the first snow. But that's the beauty of my little metaphor - no-one thinks of that time of the year as autumn, they consider it a sort of space in between that and the next, as if the loss of such a vibrant and vivid - season in this case - is in need of a particular long period for healing and grieving....
Now, who wouldn't want to be an Autumn-sort of person?
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