I woke up today with the worst migraine I’ve had in years. Holy shit. It’s a bit better now, thankfully. I was supposed to go out to work today to do my grading, but I’m going to go tomorrow instead. It still hurts to look at brightness. Ugh.
Here’s my silly outfit of the day. Jumpers make me happy. As do stripey kneesocks:
But I REALLY need to trim my bangs soon. I am a Muppet.
& I’ve been working on some French crossword puzzles today, using my skully pencil!:
Crossword puzzles are very useful for me in keeping up with my French studies. Plus, they’re fun.
& I really need to clear out my yarn stash a bit, so I’m going to make a scrap-scarf of sorts using all of these related colors:
I hope it turns out well!
& I came across this passage today. It’s from Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast, which is one of my favorite books. I have been organizing my books and I keep getting distracted and start flipping through them. Ah, well. Anyway, this passage is Hemingway describing Fitzgerald
“His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly’s wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless.”
Wow. That is intensely beautiful. I wish that I could say so much with so few words.
I need to do online class work and try to get rid of this fucking headache. More soon. xoxo