# Tired, but pleasantly so. Went for a long walk today from Neuwaldegg up the Sophienalpe, after which I temporarily lost my way & sense of direction (Note to self: buy a damn map. It's kind of embarrassing getting lost in the woods practically within the city limits of Vienna), found it again with the help of a woman walking her dog, who asked me
for directions, but at least knew where she was coming from, and finally ended up in Sievering. Sat for a while under the oak trees overlooking the old quarry, enjoying the evening sun on my face. Half of the time spring depresses me because of its connotations of new life and growth and shiny happy people in love, all of which I more often than not feel completely out of tune with, but it was lovely. The trees are still very bare with the buds only just opening, occasional faint shades of green over the brown of the hills, but the ground is dotted with bright colours, lots of Leberblümchen, violets, some kind of white flower I don't know the name of, as well as a few others, and whole stretches of it covered in bright green Bärlauch. Sunny and warm, a T-shirt was enough. It's strange, I always thought of myself as more of a city-person, but recently I have this need to get out as often as possible. Maybe the winter has been too long, but today I almost felt a hunger for fresh air and sunlight, to feel the wind on my bare arms again.
# Does this happen to anyone else, that when you've finished something you spent a (comparatively) long time writing your head feels strangely (and somewhat unpleasantly) empty after you finally post it? I noticed this after the last big post, and again today, because I usually take a notebook with me and use these walk to shuffle around the thoughts in my mind, and there was... nothing. A blank. It felt like my brain was fumbling around for something that wasn't there any longer. Or is this me being weird again? In any case, that only lasted for about half an hour until, probably out of sheer horror vacui, my brain came up with something I could write about. It seemed a better idea then than it does now, but I guess I'll see.
# On a related note, watched the Miracle Day
linked about five times in a row with a huge, probably inane, grin on my face yesterday. I hadn't realised that I was looking forward to it so much. (OTOH... a 35 second trailer, and I already foresee meta writing. *facepalms so hard*)
# Had a rather productive Saturday, too, where I updated the old laptop I got from my sister, so that I can practice my newly acquired Excel skills on an Office version that isn't eight years old. And then did a backup and finally tried to update my iMac to Snow Leopard (finally, because I bought it sometime last autumn and had it lying around ever since; don't ask), found out that it hadn't enough RAM, went to the store, and then did the scary thing where I actually unscrewed the computer and took something out & put something else in. Works fine now, although not without some complications and another trip to the store because if I put anything into the lower slot the computer won't start. They said to bring it in, but I think I'll be happy with the 2 GB (instead of 512 MB) and either keep or try to sell the other 2, because paying them even more money to try to figure out the problem so that I can have another GB (which is all the computer can actually use, or so I was told) that I don't actually need that desperately doesn't really seem worth it.
# Again on a somewhat related note, I met with a couple of people partly from work, partly not, Friday afternoon, and one of them showed off her iPhone (complete with a gazillion pictures of her not-really-boyfriend's tattoos) and, wow, does my mobile phone look archaic in comparison. The thing is, though... I hate mobile phones, use mine almost never, and as much as I love and wouldn't want to miss the internet, I don't want to take it with me when I leave the house. I don't know why, but my minds wants these things compartmetalised.
# Woke up yesterday from a dream where I was writing my diss again, except it was about something completely different, although I don't remember what. I just remember a table covered with books, and the feeling of ideas clicking in my mind. *sigh* This is what comes from all the meta writing, delusions of academia.
# For the first time in my life I'm watching Dancing Stars
(*facepalm* ad infinitum), and now I can't decide whether I want him
to win, if only because of all the thinly veiled homophobic comments I'm hearing at work from customers all the time, since we're selling off his autobiography, or her
, because she's such a sweetie, not to mention smoking hot in that dress. (Realistically, neither will win because they simply aren't the best dancers.)
# I think I mentioned I read Alex Ross's The Rest is Noise
over my holiday? Sooo
much inspiration for non-musical me. For now Shostakovich and Britten, but I'm happily clicking around on YouTube checking out new things all the time...