wrinkle in time.

capping my highlighter with a click, i put aside the journal article which seems to have become nothing more than pages upon pages of green horizontal lines. whatever, i think to myself, atleast i read it. making what seems to be just a small dent in the three hundred or so pages of reading i was assigned this week, i force myself to take a break, pulling my eyes off the miniaturized pages of miniaturized words, which by the end, appear to have all started moving around on their own. clearly, i am becoming insane. sneaky little double-sided, double-columed, xeroxed articles, where four pages left in actuality means sixteen.

the weather today seemd to offer the first glimmers of a cold winter. nevermind the fact that it was warm and sunny enough yesterday to walk around ina t-shirt, today was absolutely chilly - windy and chilly. it certainly is a windy city - blowing around bags, leaves, and bits of trash which didn't seem to make it into the scarce handfull of public waste receptacles around town. as i walked to and from school with my hands either in my pockets or pulling in the sides of my jacket, i can't help to imagine how i'll fare when it really starts getting cold.

having this thing called "the seasons" sure helps to make all those charts and cartoons in kindergarten sensical now. in san francisco the weather was always a chilly whiteness, so the most i truly understood about the seasons was from what i could piece together from television. of course i knew about winter - i've been to reno and tahoe when it snowed. coming here however, i think one of the most interesting things i noticed was how inconstistent green tree leaves were at turning "autumn colored." here and there in what could be a grove of green sat a yellowing tree. strange indeed.

as i shuffle through dusty piles of leaves which have accumulated along the curb and at street-intersection handicap ramps, autumn is a messy season, i think to myself. seeing the season progress sure does give me sense of time however, and as more tree leaves turn and drop, the only thing running thorugh my mind will probably be why i haven't yet started researching and writing my article. nevertheless, there does appear to be a comforting feeling in the idea that by the time the green returns to these very trees, i might very well be finished with this city and moving on to bigger and better things. time makes time for time, as kim put similarily, and as we sat smoking somewhere sometime in a place so seemingly far away now, both of us could only come to the conclusion that things always work out in the end.

as the wind blows around me, rustling thinning treetops, and knocking down tiny golden leaves from their swaying perches, i can only watch in strange fixated awe at the american beauty-esque scene which unfoldeds before me. lit by the setting sun, a firery red-brick doorway sits framed in golden flecks which flutter down from the trees above in a faux slow-motion fashion. reminding me of a similar scene at another point and place in time, i am instantly whisked back to los angeles, back four or five years, to the patio by my dormitory, where i watched tired plum blossom petals flutter similarly to the ground like light pink snow. while the time has certainly changed, and the place even moreso, it seems recollection still has a way of taking me back and showing me where i've come.

memory... is the diary that we all carry about with us.
: wilde.