blowing wind

The wind is blowing hard outside.  It feels like it is trying to blow the building over or effect some change all on its own.  The trees are bending their branches in its gusts, but they are still covered with green leaves so perhaps the wind isn’t so wicked after all.  The folks that maintain the grounds at my apartment complex are outside with their lawnmowers and leaf-blowers, so I suppose it really can’t be that bad at all.  All sound and fury with nothing signified.

Sometime yesterday around mid-day the season shifted.  In the morning when I had breakfast I had a jacket on, but didn’t really need it.  It felt late summer, cooler than the dog days, but still summer.  I went home and did some things.  A few hours later I reemerged to get some food and do some work outside of my apartment at Barnes & Noble and suddenly the jacket was just barely enough.  The winds had come and with them autumn came.  It feels like time.  I love summer, but I also love the fall.  The fall has always meant school (which has already begun) and halloween and my birthday and my dad’s.  Thanksgiving sneaks in there and then suddenly it is winter.  Winter may have Christmas, but I still prefer autumn.

I was up until 4am this morning.  I was plugging away on a reflection paper, a reflection on a story that meant a lot to me at some point in my life and how the journey of the soul may have been represented by it.  I have a hard time with papers such as these because it requires me to choose one thing that stands out above the others.  I’m really not good at choosing favorites, slipping back and forth with my preferences–I can do a top five for the moment, those are a little easier, as long as the number one slot doesn’t have to be number one.  So what did I choose?  Well, I cheated a little:  My opening paragraph was spent giving a range of books and stories that have impacted me (done as a means of introducing the themes that helped me choose the subject of the paper).  The eventual topic was the Arthurian legends, which in and of itself is a little bit of a cheat since there are so many variations.  I think that is why they stick with me, there are a lot of versions of the story and each one seems to be an example of what themes their teller and their age, but they all begin and end the same way:  Arthur is born in the beginning and Camelot is destroyed at the end.

While I was writing the paper I had My Name is Bruce on the TV.  I had really wanted to see it when it was out (Bruce Campbell had done a tour with the movie and stopped in town for two days to do talks after the flick, but I was unable to go) so I was happy to see it at the redbox when I was returning the flick that Libby and I watched last night.  I probably shouldn’t have gotten it as it probably distracted me a little and caused the paper to take a bit longer than otherwise, but oh well–it was funny.  Bruce Campbell managed to make a good comedy that was both an homage to and a parody of all of the ridiculous B movies that he has been a part of for all of these years.  He also parodied himself, staring as Bruce Campbell the washed up ego-filled shitbag actor.  Glorious cheese.

The other thing that kept me from my paper is that I took a break in the middle of doing my homework to fill out an online application for a position at the U of M.  I needed to update my resume (i.e. write a new one) and write a cover letter.  I am sending it in today.  There is a chunk of the job that I don’t have experience in, but I can do the rest and if it is full time then the pay is definitely better than what I have going for me right now.  So, we’ll see how the wind blows.

Must switch the laundry loads now and continue on with my school work, I have much reading and writing that needs to get accomplished for Wednesday now.

More later …


Published by: Thomas Rohde

Artist // Writer // Theatre Professional // Nerd // Night Owl Inspired by a steady and lifelong infusion of pop culture, comic books, and a vast assortment of films and books, our friendly neighborhood blogger has doomed himself to a life of creative pursuits. There's not enough time for everything, but we all do what we can. Artist: of watercolor, ink, comic illustration, horror/ sci-fi/ fantasy art. Writer: of fictions, tweets, captions & blogs. Lover: coffee, whiskey, wine & beer. Instagram and Twitter as @demipho

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