![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Reading, watching Buffy, and some musings on the haunted weather.
Every now and then I pack my laptop to take it somewhere, and never unpack it when I get home. Often it's simply that I'm lazy, but it tends to coincide with periods where I don't want much to be online—because that's what ends up happening. I use Devon's desktop sometimes, but it is uncomfortable and inconvenient, so when my laptop is hiding in a bag I do little more than check my email and move along, which has been my habit lately.
It puts me out of touch but serves me well, particularly when I do want some time away from the computer. I've been reading and, having caught up with Castle, began watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and much enjoying myself in that quiet way. Halloween and All Saints' passed with nary a whisper, which would have been a disappointment were it not for the wonderful days which preceded them; but as the seasonal focus turns swiftly towards warmth, company, and gifts, I find that I'm still in the mood for darkness.
I understand why thoughts begin to turn to heat and comfort, both physical and emotional, about this time of year—when winter comes on in earnest and there is need of both. Yet the bane and boon of Corvallis is that it is a temperate place: it rains here, it rains for nine months of the year, but all it does is rain. We get ice sometimes, but snow rarely, and more often than not the temperature hovers somewhere decent. It's still rainy and cloudy, you have to learn to live with the wet, and come spring one is glad again to see the sun—but our winters are never bitter, they never beg such a strong need for warmth and comfort, however welcome the both may be.
And the deader the season, the more haunted. I read The Raven to Devon just yesterday, and "Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December." The leaves fall and rot and leave the trees bare, the sky stays forever gray, the land is monotone and stark—and wet—and that's as haunting as the darkest October night.
But then, I'm also of the opinion that the hottest, most barren months of summer are haunted, too. You can blame The Red Tree for that.
Regardless, the season for scares may be mostly past but I still want them—gothic novels, misty atmospheres, the dark; fairy tales too, fantasy, stories of borders blurred and haunted; vampires and demons and some dark humor are also welcome. I'm glad that I'm still in the mood for such things, because there's a lot of them that I didn't get to in time for Halloween—and the coming months are long, and dark, and begging to be filled.
So I'm reading, and watching Buffy, and enjoying myself.
It puts me out of touch but serves me well, particularly when I do want some time away from the computer. I've been reading and, having caught up with Castle, began watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and much enjoying myself in that quiet way. Halloween and All Saints' passed with nary a whisper, which would have been a disappointment were it not for the wonderful days which preceded them; but as the seasonal focus turns swiftly towards warmth, company, and gifts, I find that I'm still in the mood for darkness.
I understand why thoughts begin to turn to heat and comfort, both physical and emotional, about this time of year—when winter comes on in earnest and there is need of both. Yet the bane and boon of Corvallis is that it is a temperate place: it rains here, it rains for nine months of the year, but all it does is rain. We get ice sometimes, but snow rarely, and more often than not the temperature hovers somewhere decent. It's still rainy and cloudy, you have to learn to live with the wet, and come spring one is glad again to see the sun—but our winters are never bitter, they never beg such a strong need for warmth and comfort, however welcome the both may be.
And the deader the season, the more haunted. I read The Raven to Devon just yesterday, and "Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December." The leaves fall and rot and leave the trees bare, the sky stays forever gray, the land is monotone and stark—and wet—and that's as haunting as the darkest October night.
But then, I'm also of the opinion that the hottest, most barren months of summer are haunted, too. You can blame The Red Tree for that.
Regardless, the season for scares may be mostly past but I still want them—gothic novels, misty atmospheres, the dark; fairy tales too, fantasy, stories of borders blurred and haunted; vampires and demons and some dark humor are also welcome. I'm glad that I'm still in the mood for such things, because there's a lot of them that I didn't get to in time for Halloween—and the coming months are long, and dark, and begging to be filled.
So I'm reading, and watching Buffy, and enjoying myself.