SnowTimmys.

I just didn’t seem to have it in me today. I’ve known all day what I needed to do, yet my feet didn’t budge and my mind remained on lockdown. I couldn’t seem to snap out of it for the longest time. Four hours just to get into the shower, a victory spiked with pictures, as is evidenced by the previous entry. I ate, but then what? I lost my momentum. I still haven’t touched my laundry. I don’t know why.

I reduced it to a single objective: Do the damn C++ program. That’s all I have to do for tomorrow. Everything else is negligible. My mind somehow decided that “going outside” meant work. As if putting on a coat and shoes is so difficult.

I did make it outside – at around 10 PM. Ten steps outside I paused. I breathed, noticing the snow around me. “I’ve been inside all day.” The spell broken, I proceeded to the van. Then something hit me. The ladies on the ODBoards had been joking about snowangels. I glanced at the untouched snow beyond the plowed road. I felt something stopping me.

Strangely, whenever I feel an active desire to not do something, that’s my cue to fight it. I said active. I haven’t jumped in snow in years. I remember how I used to bundle up, as a kid, being so OCD so I’d avoid getting snow in those critical gaps between clothes. Jeans, a pair of vans and a leather jacket, I was hardly prepared for snow-frolicing.

I got my book out of the van, while carefully avoiding knocking down snow onto/into me or the van. I paused. The lighting wasn’t right. There’s another spot closer to the front door (which is in the back of the complex) which has a dim streetlight near it. I placed the book on the ice sidewalk. Hoodie up, jacket secured. My hands were exposed. I got my gloves out of my pocket. Hey, I have to get up somehow.

The snow didn’t look that deep. It really wasn’t. No more than five inches, I’d say, at least in that spot. Faced my butt backwards and placed my feet into the snow. Ass-first, I plopped into the snow and let myself fall back. Immediately, I felt snow go up my shirt, and in my shoes. I smiled on the inside, and waved my arms and legs. I rose and admired my handiwork. I grabbed my book and went inside.

Then came out and created photo evidence.

When I was little, I didn’t really have anybody to play with. I’ve never had a snowball fight. If anybody offered, I probably would have been terrified. I don’t remember being told to go play in the snow, I just did it because it was expected of me. Little Timmy had to go play with himself. I suppose I have to remind myself to be silly, now and then. The irony.

Here’s the small victories.

Addendum: I have no compiler. This school fucking sucks. I have homework to do, and I have not been given a C++ compiler. What the fuck. The CD that came with the book is just examples. Man, when I went to Rutgers, they have their own goddamn server that GRADES your homework. None of this webct bullshit.