I have to say it's been extremely bizarre weather this year. Yesterday I saw a woman walking down the street wearing a short-sleeved shirt, and today I got out of the gym with wet hair and wearing only a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and was perfectly warm. I'm normally totally bundled up until June, so I'm a little nonplussed and concerned. Is the world trying to lure me into a false sense of complacency and pleasure? If so, it seems to have succeeded not only with me, but with the plants as well... since they appear to be coming out of their dens in what I hope isn't an extremely premature fashion.

A little strangeness and I wouldn't wonder... but it's been like this for about 1.5 weeks, and before that it was medium with rain. Oh, and there are really high winds around. It almost feels balmy to me. And creepy too.

I've become quite good at creeping myself out on hikes with Herald... usually I take him to medium-populated trails, but if I'm in a rush, I just take him for an hour up Blanchard Mt., which is right behind the house. This trail has less people on it, especially during the weekday, and so can be good for an excellent creepout, especially when the day is preternaturally warm and quiet but for some high winds along the treetips. Everything looks strange too... the ferns are too green, and the trees are too smug, and the birds too quiet.

And well, yesterday I took Herald there, and normally he races ahead of me, sniffing at everything, bounding into the bushes after squirrels and birds and scents, and if I catch up with him, he bounds back and practically pushes me out of the way so he can get back ahead. But yesterday he kept so close to me I kept treading on his toes, and he kept stopping in front of me (so as to ensure I would come to a complete screeching halt) and looking back like we were being followed or watched. Except he wasn't barking, which he normally does if we're being followed. I started to feel weird, my kind of "floating above it" distressed anxious feeling (I've been anxious lately anyway, for no good reason except I don't seem to ever get anywhere). Being psychic, this seemed to bother Herald even more, and he kept getting closer and closer to me, so that I had to start pushing him away from me because the trail was a narrow one. But then he'd be right back again, stopping and sniffing the air behind us.

I started wondering, in my usual morbid way, whether people get a strange feeling on the day they die--the creeps, or something at least creeping, an inexplicable nervousness so subtle or particular to the day of dying that nobody has ever discussed the feeling because they wondered, and then they were dead and couldn't come back and say, "You know, I felt this strange thing..." I remembered both reading and watching I Heard the Owl Call My Name, and how much it made me jump at bird sounds for years after watching it... listening to them for a particular tone, a specific message in nature that's there if your ears are open. So perhaps this sensation could be something like that, and maybe that's what I was feeling but I would never know until it was perhaps impossible to know, so I looked up into the fast-moaning tree tips and tried to think about what I wanted to think about if it was my last day, but it was a sad kind of feeling... like I have never been enough yet.

Then that got me angry because this is supposed to be the Year of J. I'm such a moody little cuss, it's hard to stay focused on positivity. I've been feeling a renewal of artistic pressure and anxiety... it's been awhile since I've made something, and I get the feeling that I really need to write something new, perhaps make a chapbook or something, although I'm not entirely positive how fiction writers go about making chapbooks versus just short stories... but also that I absolutely must finish some pieces and send them out. I did recently, actually, send one out... and it's the first time I've sent something out into the complete unknown. I walked around saying "well, I've finally submitted," enjoying the duplicity of that word.

Okay, so I promised myself I wouldn't mention it, because it could be a weird fluky thing and I don't want to get my hopes up, but it looks like I lost 13 pounds from Jan 1 - Jan 15. Probably more a statement on how out-of-shape and chubby I've gotten than on anything else, but it felt good. For a bit. Then I felt depressed by how the thought of a dumb weight loss doesn't match up to the accomplishments I really want. I think I need to take some money this summer, rent a cabin, and lock myself in for writing without internet or anything.

Oh, and I'm procrastinating right now because I have 40-odd papers to comment on by tomorrow evening. Yeah, exactly when I need to procrastinate.

Not much else going on... I went dancing with a friend this past weekend, and did a little bit of work although not writing work, and it's hard to say why I'm doing it...














my friend who saw it seemed a little bit like "um, why?", which she always is, I guess, but sometimes you just want some jubilee when you're working on nonsense. But dancing was fun... although I was totally far-too achy the next day, I believe as a result of having combined working out, hiking with H, and dancing with SP all on one day. Just a tad beyond my normal dealio. The hottub was nice the next day though. Um, I guess that's it... all I can rationalize with all those stuffin' papers waiting.