I'm out of my mind with cabin fever. I am not a winter person. How did I end up in Syracuse? sometimes it boggles my mind. February is always the largest hurdle of the year, and not in any way because of Valentine's day (although it isn't exactly a brownie point either). I desperately yearn for springtime, and in February I always begin to feel as though it should be warming up. Which, of course, it shouldn't - especially not in Syracuse. So I inevitably get rather irritable and cranky and impatient with the world and with nature. This weather is even worse - I wish we could pick a season and stick with it. Yesterday I had a tank top on. Today, three layers of clothing, plus hats, scarves, and gloves. I cannot wait to be comfortably barefoot again.

(although ugh! what is wrong with people? I cannot even describe how many people have a hard time with my barefootedness here. I go down to do my laundry without shoes and everyone I see is in a state of shock. "You're down here without SHOES???" as if I eat off my feet or something, as if they're not made to be walked on. I rather like feeling the cool concrete beneath my toes. Shoes are for wimps and germophobes. I do so hate princesses. My favorite game is walking everywhere without shoes and rubbing it in. I get a kick out of wiggling my feet - which are not at all gross - at my neighbor, who inevitably squirms with the idea of me walking around unshod. People are so screwy.)

My parents bought me a sled for christmas and I have yet to be able to use it. sigh.

what little boring town are you from? I don't think you told me; I can't remember if I asked.

Many things await me. Sylvia Plath, my drying laundry, a new pair of jeans to be broken in. I'm glad you emailed back - I have begun to believe that I am simply the figment of someone's imagination. I have sent out a number of emails in the past week and a half that needed responses and got none. It's a very curious phenomenon. I question my own existence. Am I real? I haven't come to any definite conclusions yet. As it turns out, proving your own existence is trickier than one would think.

hope I hear from you soon. My real email address is akane12@bcpl.net , so you don't have to go through the stupid relationships.com emailer anymore. I'm off - laundry awaits. there isn't anything as comforting as good music, good lightning, sunflowers, and fresh-from-the-dryer flannel pajamas.

ADA approved,
* jess