Cold Front Coming In

It snowed yesterday. It was almost apocalyptic looking out the window at the flakes flying nearly horizontal, and whirling around in the winter wind. By the time I went to bed it had calmed down and there was a peaceful quiet to the evening air. There had been plows out clearing the main roads and parking lot, as well as people clearing the sidewalks leaving a clean path to the campus and our apartments. I went to bed dreading the morning coming, but for the reason that I had to get up early to get ready and make it to my 8 A.M. class, not because of the day's weather.

I woke up this morning dissatisfied with the 6 hours of sleep I had gotten. I snoozed my alarm for the precious 5 minutes I could squander laying in bed wishing I could somehow slow time to a crawl, but alas my alarm shrieked 5 minutes later sending me out of bed onto the cold floor. I hurried and got ready, putting in minimal effort to make myself as close to presentable as possible in as short a time. I decided as I was zipping up my "dead of winter" coat to grab my gloves, which resemble mittens before heading for the door.
I opened the door expecting the cold to slam into me like a tidal wave, but found myself standing motionless mouth wide open for a different reason instead. There was no longer the clean, clear path from my apartment to campus, but instead stood several feet of snow. A large drift had developed in front of the door, much like town homes near the beach, waiting to come collapsing through the front door. After my moment of hesitation, I stepped out into the drift of snow, and I didn't look back. I walked through the knee-deep snow all the way to class watching cars spinning out, girls falling down stairs, Eskimos running dog sled teams into town, and possibly the extinction of some large species of reptiles, all the while carrying my illustration board which had inscribed upon it my previous evenings work of hours of charcoal attempting to mimic Blackbeard the infamous buccaneer.

Arriving at sculpture class dripping wet, with an inch-thick coating of snow covering my backpack, I took a moment of silence for all those desperate souls surely lost in the morning's weather that would no doubt soon be forced to turn to cannibalism...

I made a wolf today in sculpture class. It somehow seemed fitting. It made me feel slightly better about being so terrible at crafting Abraham Lincoln's dignified face. I doubt I'll ever be able to look at a 5 dollar bill again. Pennies will likely be okay, they are so much less judgmental. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but Illustration class somehow got away from the teacher today and became story time. I heard about a man that shot his neighbor in the face pheasant hunting, apparently it can happen to more than Dick Cheney. Then there was the hillbilly kid and his bear stories, stories about growing up in Japan, stories about eavesdropping on other students for creative writing class, the list goes on. Needless to say I didn't need to bring my illustration board with my project that was due today to class. This was slightly irritating because I carried it all the way in the crazy snowstorm, kept it through sculpture class, and it was supposedly due. But it was worth it to hear that a grown man wet his pants after opening his kitchen cabinet that was rattling, and having two baby raccoons jump out at him. I feel a cold front coming in.