I'm sleepy. Hell, yes. But can't get my hands off the keyboard. Fingers flying hither and thither. Yet what exactly is that i want to actually say? Most of my time is spent wondering, ' What is it that i'm actually thinking?' Stupid, stupid Alison. Should i have another mug of coffee? Teh temptation is strong. But then i need to sleep since i have to go to class tomorrow. Why can't I think of a concrete thought? I catch the tail of one, only to realise it was ice and has melted by the time i got to the other end of it. Worse it is a wax crayon and it's sweating in a room clausterphobic with other coloured crayons. They are all sweating and look what has happened- there's a murky pool on the floor. Which colour belongs to which crayon?

People from so many different countries packed in 1 room. Talking, dancing, drinking, eating or just acting crazy. The world is a small place. Languages flying about. Cheap wine flowing. And suddenly you get talking to people from places you only saw on TV. And u never would believe that people half way across the world shared the same thoughts as you.

It only looks soft and harmless. But snow is hard. And slippery. Walking on it is difficult. It's pretty. It's beautiful to see vast expanses of surface covered with snow. White with snow. I hate the tyre marks in the snow it spoils the beauty. It dirties the snow. They make long ugly furrows. But i love footprints in the snow. They tell you where someone has gone. My footprints. Deep, pressing the snow to opaque glass. While the fresh snow winks in the occasional ray of sunlight, the ice looks used. It gets muddy and slippery. People practise running in the sand. Good exercise! I can hear those words spoken. But you know what? The snow is more tiresome. Walk without slipping. It seems to pull you down. Sand. It's softer, its doesn't change shape. Sand, sand on the beaches that i know.

It takes just a sentence and you know that a friend is not lost. Strange how just seeing someones name flashing can make your day.

Just come in from outside. It's snowing. Quite heavy snowfall. And i was looking at it come down, like...how do you describe it? It's -2 degrees. I am trying to describe what it is like. But i can't. what would wordsworth say? Would he break into spontaneous poetry? It's just keeps falling and when it falls on you, it's like some light feathery thing that almost tickles you. Look at it getting accumulated on the branches that seem to have been cleared of leaves especially to accomodate the snow. It looks like some kind of a fridge that doesn't have a frost- free. It's falling on my skylight and will soon cover it. I want to have a snow fight. But am here alone. The snow flakes catching in my hair. Everything i do i think of sharing the experiance with someone. Ask how does it feel? is it cold? What does snow taste like? Does it make a sound? I can't seem to keep my eyes off the glass door. I want to jump in it, make snow angels n snowmen. I could make a whole family of snow people. These exciting moments come with a back drop of loneliness. How cruel! But that's what John Keats says. Keats? I'm not sure, but the poet who wrote To A Skylark.

If we as humans are supposed to be dynamic, how can we expect our feelings to remain the same forever? And if they change do they change for the better? Is it possible to wait for something and not know that you have been waiting until it passes you by. And what if you cannot ever be sure?How can an emotion last forever? Answers are welcome...please!

What is that colour, when the sun falls on the snow? Orange? No that's too bright. Gold? Nope, gold is too shiny. What about ummm... yellow? Oh no, it's too pale. It's a colour that you need to drink in deep sips. Your eyes may never see the same shade again.

Coffee- break

Just realised that the fasted depleting commodity in my household items is coffee. Not a surprising fact. I love it and it keeps me going. I'm addicted to it, and have no desire 2 change myself. Another realisation is dat if i don't finish my coffee in 5 minutes and dash out, i am going to miss the bus and thus b late for class.