The important thing to remember about these entries is that I'm not going to go back and edit them. I want to, very badly when I reread them, but I'm just supposed to hack them out rapidly, throw them up online, and leave them be. That's the restriction I set up for myself. Somehow I don't think it's fair to be retroactively brilliant, to go back and clarify something that I'd said when I should've tried harder the first time, or something. Impose an idea that wasn't there, insinuate a connecting fiber that hadn't coalesced in its inception. I'll correct typographical errors, sure, but I was rereading that Four-Square entry and wanted to change a whole bunch. These are only blog entries, I'm still a nobody, it doesn't matter if I rewrite them all to hell.
I'll edit these e-mailed entries, though, because I don't know what the formatting on them will look like. I'll definitely want to delete a .sig file when applicable.
Today was beautiful snowball snow. Yesterday evening saw the onset of rain becoming sparse wet flakes, and when I left the house this morning every surface that faced up was coated in a clingy, wet snowfall. It was beautiful. If the sky had not been overcast, or at least been a whiter shade of gray, it would have been an ideal picture-taking setting. I'm a little upset if a winter goes by and I don't see all the types of snow I like, and I only really like two so that's not asking much. I don't care for the dry, powdery snow that's just useless. Skiers love it, I guess, but it has no traction for cars and it doesn't clump up for molding. It's pretty good for observing individual snowflakes, I'll allow.
But my two favorite kinds of snow are "snowball snow" and "heartbreak snow." We just got the snowball snow today but there are only a few more weeks for the heartbreak snow to show up. That's when the flakes are huge and fluffy, moist and clumpy, and they take their time to drift down to earth but the air is full of them, dense with these flakes. They make everything quiet, their fluffy bodies dampening all the sound in the area, and the noise reduction lends itself to a clarity of vision as well. Your eyesight becomes very sharp... oh, also, it has to be at night, too. It can snow like that during the day but it doesn't mean the same thing as at night. Ideally you would be standing in a parking lot outside a mall, too, with tall street lamps in the area. Heartbreak snow plays with these, creating a sphere of shifting light around every street lamp, flakes that seem to exist only while they slide through the sphere. The flakes fall on your hair and coat and don't melt. I call it heartbreak snow because it's heartbreaking to be single when the snow is like this and there's no one coated in fluffy snow to kiss.
It would also be heartbreaking for this winter go by without snowing like that, now that I do have someone to kiss.