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Nov. 5th, 2011 11:37 pmAccess Advanced in two weeks and then I'm done, done, done until Christmas. Of course there'll be the usual Christmas retail insanity, but right now that prospect seems almost stress-free in comparison to the last couple of months, because then I'll at least be allowed to come home and simply crash. (Famous last words...) And then I'll have to seriously start looking for a new job after Christmas. Also, the two weeks of Russian seminar I did in July? Either I'm crazy or masochistic or both, but I'm planning to do it again in February, so life isn't really going to stop being busy anytime soon. Still, though. It'll be at least one thing off my mind.
I'm just so tired. I'm also turning into a complete hermit, apparently. I feel somewhat guilty because I keep turning down people who want to do things with me, but at the moment spending what free time I have sitting cooped up in a cinema, or standing around in a museum, watching/looking at something I'm only 50% interested in at best seems simply intolerable. I need to be outside, I need to move, and I'm not really willing to make compromises for other people's levels of fitness either. I know I'm being rude, but on the other hand I think that's what kept me functioning over the last weeks. I only have so much energy.
So, anyway, pictures from Tuesday's hiking tour; no artistic aspirations, I just want to share them. Hours of walking through the mist, colours continuously changing from yellow (maple trees) to russet (beech trees) to a sober green-grey (pine trees), blurred like an impressionistic painting, the sound of water dripping from the trees and leaves falling on the wet ground. Almost completely alone the whole time, only twice meeting other hikers. It's an eerie feeling, even if you have a map and the path is clearly marked, when everything outside the circle you're moving in disappears in a greyish-white nothingness, especially when you're somewhere you've never been before. Apparently all the fairytales you've listened to as a child leave you with an archaic subconscious fear of getting lost in the woods that neither reason nor maps can't quite dispel... And then I was finally high enough and the mist started to thin, and after all those hours in the dripping grey it was simply wonderful to see a blue sky again, and the sun filtered through the branches and last wisps of mist, everything suddenly almost shockingly crisp and clear.
(On a more prosaic note, I was also forced to notice that I'm not really in a very good shape. Note to lazy self: pick more demanding routes. Uphill ones, that is.)
I'm just so tired. I'm also turning into a complete hermit, apparently. I feel somewhat guilty because I keep turning down people who want to do things with me, but at the moment spending what free time I have sitting cooped up in a cinema, or standing around in a museum, watching/looking at something I'm only 50% interested in at best seems simply intolerable. I need to be outside, I need to move, and I'm not really willing to make compromises for other people's levels of fitness either. I know I'm being rude, but on the other hand I think that's what kept me functioning over the last weeks. I only have so much energy.
So, anyway, pictures from Tuesday's hiking tour; no artistic aspirations, I just want to share them. Hours of walking through the mist, colours continuously changing from yellow (maple trees) to russet (beech trees) to a sober green-grey (pine trees), blurred like an impressionistic painting, the sound of water dripping from the trees and leaves falling on the wet ground. Almost completely alone the whole time, only twice meeting other hikers. It's an eerie feeling, even if you have a map and the path is clearly marked, when everything outside the circle you're moving in disappears in a greyish-white nothingness, especially when you're somewhere you've never been before. Apparently all the fairytales you've listened to as a child leave you with an archaic subconscious fear of getting lost in the woods that neither reason nor maps can't quite dispel... And then I was finally high enough and the mist started to thin, and after all those hours in the dripping grey it was simply wonderful to see a blue sky again, and the sun filtered through the branches and last wisps of mist, everything suddenly almost shockingly crisp and clear.
(On a more prosaic note, I was also forced to notice that I'm not really in a very good shape. Note to lazy self: pick more demanding routes. Uphill ones, that is.)
( and the rest... )
