You Know that Phrase Ned Stark Says? Yeah, That.

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I don't think the sun was shining at all today. It's been dim and wintery -- as it should be. This is Oswego, after all. While I miss Autumn, as my last post suggests, I am fascinated by the winter months here.

First, the shift is so much more obvious and abrupt here by the great lakes. One of my favorite examples is how it just randomly Thunder Snows. Not kidding. There is no warning -- if the conditions are right, the storm occurs with snow, not rain, even if the fall isn't quite astrologically winter yet.

You know how stores started selling holiday stuff in October? Well, I don't buy into that right off the bat. But once it starts with the snowing and the grey and the cold, I kind of feel like acknowledging that the season is turning to Yule. After all, Tumblr explodes with images of holly leaves, hot cocoa, pictures of tea cups emblazoned with pentagrams sitting outside of the snow -- lore of the season is especially useful. Any snowscape is perfectly fine for me.

Back to the lore of the seasons --
There are a million different ways that people who practice paganism of any kind can celebrate. There are as many myths as paths, really. My favorite group of myths is the Germanic/Scandinavian types. I was laughing with my roommate last night about how sometimes in certain countries, someone will dress up as a Christmas Gnome and give gifts.

Also, another favorite Scandinavian-type lore piece -- Odin might have been the origin of Santa Claus and his eight reindeer. His eight legged horse, Slepnir might be where the eight reindeer came from. I read somewhere that people would leave carrots out for the horse. The generous ones who did got gifts in exchange from Odin.

Pretty cool, huh?

But yeah. It is the last day of November, and December starts in a few hours so, I'll leave you with Ned Stark....

Fare Thee Well, November

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I want to capture the last bit of fall before it really gets cold here in Oswego. Autumn is my favorite season, and I don't think that'll ever change. It gets really cold here really quickly, and I notice the leaves are only those brilliant fall colors for a short time. Now, that's not a short time to some, but to someone like me -- who admires the world around me as I walk from class to class -- it is never a long enough season.

I may have mentioned that it has started to snow recently here. The trees are withdrawing themselves -- their life is asleep deep in their trunks, waiting for the Earth to say her spell that will wake them up again in the spring. The sky above is getting ever more bleak. The clouds, as one person said today in one of my classes, are looking a bit angry. There's always a storm on the horizon.

In fact, we had a thunder snow yesterday in which my roommate may have heard the words of Thor, five feet from her face. She was not happy with the shift in weather and the strikes of lightning halfway between her class and our dorm room.

The thing about this first part of winter that makes me a little sad is that it really is the darkest. Yule will celebrate the return of the sun -- the waxing of the light, as they say. That marks the light half of the year. But winter, in its entirety, is still very dark, and very cold.

During the Autumn months, at the very least, there are some green places. It is still cool, but not yet dry, ill-looking trees and patches of snow over brown, dead grass. (Usually.) 

So, fare thee well, November. Take with you what bit of Fall is left and keep it safe until next season.

Subtle Subconcious Connection

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It has been a very long semester, but it is winding down now. Like the fall leaving us as it thunder snows here, the semester is about gone, too. A lot of work tends to pile up around this time, but I try not to let it get the best of me. I try not to dwell on how stressful it is, because I have the opportunity to be here that others might not have.

So first, before I talk about the school work, which will be spoken upon in due time -- I want to tell a bit about how Empathy worked today. I have this class called The Living Writer's Series, which is for my Creative Writing degree. Today, a visitor came in, but before class I was chatting with one of the awesome TAs. She told me a few personal things right in the middle of the front of this class, and then told me she wasn't sure exactly why she was saying all of it. And I just laughed and responded that I get that a lot. Because I really do get that a lot.

Part of what Empathy does for a person who has that gift is connect everyone via the energy of emotion. (See my entry, Woven Between.) An Empath has the ability to understand exactly how the others around them are feeling, right down to pain, if they aren't well shielded against the energies. Subconciously, we are all aware of these energies. We know when someone's invaded our personal bubble, or when people are not paying attention, or being ingenuine. The people who speak to an Empath or feel compelled to trust an Empath subconciously realize that whatever it is, the Empath will get it and won't judge. They can't ever put that into words -- the gods know most folk don't even know the term 'Empath' -- even I didn't at first.

The only thing I can say to that is -- for my whole life, people have trusted me, even just barely knowing me. They put me in a spot to be a leader. I am the one with the advice. I won't judge. I understand. They tell me I get it, even if I have never been in such a situation.

I am honored that people want to speak with me, and I of course love being trusted. But the emotion of my own that I know I am great at feeling is nervousness. To be a center of attention is nerve wracking -- and although I am getting better at not getting so worked up about things having to do with people, I half wonder how I was born under these specific conditions that would result in an Empath.

Today, someone I look up to trusted me with a bit of information --  their "life story," as she called it, humorously. She is the TA, and the next step past TA is speaking to a professor. It's pretty awesome. The best part was that for the first time ever, someone realized that they had no idea why they felt like telling me these things. It's just a crazy check for me. Am I crazy? Am I making this all up? Nope, not today. Check. I wonder if I can put into words how much I appreciate these moments.

Take a Closer Look

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Today was one of those days that I forgot the difference between Port Jervis's version of "Light Snow" and Oswego's version of "Light Snow." I walked to work with my club nintendo Starman tote bag, with all of my work inside it unprotected from the elements. Not to mention all the snow that oh-so-conveniently gathered where the zipper is on my otherwise water resistant laptop case. Between one hall and the campus center, it just... well... the "light" snow began. It was flurries before that.

I'm going to have to get used to this, because eventually I plan to move off campus. I'll have to walk to school almost daily in the snow, rain, wind -- crappiest of weathers, if I can't catch the bus (or in some cases, if it is not safe to catch the bus.)

But there is beauty in this situation. With a closer look, I notice how the snow isn't soft and light as it was when I set out. The air is cold enough so that what once were flakes are now in a state between snow and hail. The sound it makes on the sidewalk or even on the hood of my coat is strange; It is as if with the passing of each winter, I forget the sound and have to be reminded. This is the strangest part -- in listening to the tune these half-hail, half-snow bits make, the rest of the world is tuned out. It is cold, but I barely feel it. It is though I am completely immersed in whatever piece the natural world around me is performing. I forget that it is difficult to climb the hill to my job in such weather at my stature. I am not afraid as I slip and lose my balance a bit because I am wearing sneakers with hardly any traction. For a moment, despite all that is wrong with how I prepared for today, I am supposed to be out in the weather like this. I was supposed to hear this song.

Most would have been more annoyed or upset than I found myself being. Sure, I was stuck out in what Port Jervis would consider "Heavy Snow," and I was ill prepared to protect that which I had to bring with me to work and class -- but it was worth it. It was so worth it. I wonder how many other times I had been in the middle of a concert with the Earth as the conductor? I don't recall writing down how I felt in the past about these sorts of musical performances. Perhaps I'll make a note of this more often in the future.

Thoughts on Memory

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I just finished a paper that had everything to do with the spoken or sung tale and how in it would be preserved important concepts such as the basics of religion or traditions. Much of what modern Heathen reconstruction focuses on is these traditions -- anything from the Norse Eddas and so on. At one point, before there was even the ability to have written a word down edgewise, there were only those spoken tales shared by elders or bards at community gatherings.

Now, just like little kids playing a game of telephone, the message/story probably changed from tribe to tribe, from generation to generation. Memory and understanding become completely vital in the preservation of these important concepts.

But memory fails. And I wonder if that fact was exploited when these tales were able to be written down. Can we really reconstruct the relgions of old based on the memory of the last person to tell the tale before it was written down in physical form? What if, during the turbulent times when Christianity rose as a world-wide viewpoint and basis of religion, a drunken heathen told the story to a group where a clever Christian monk sat? As the heathens around the drunken bard corrected him, maybe the monk refused to record those remarks?

My paper was on Beowulf, and a bunch of papers have been written on how that story really would remain the same but for a few details, if the Christianized bits were taken out. (Note the demonization of giants and elves somewhere in the middle of the poem...lol...not entirely relevent to the plot progression in the epic, but indeed a hint at how memory and opinion go hand in hand.) I think it is one of the easiest ways to see how such legends could've been ways that religion was preserved. The plot is linear, and understandable. They teach it in some High School classes, if I remember correctly. But it is the fact that this was once a story told, not written, that intrigues me the most.

I wonder what it would be like if all the original details had been remembered just as they were?

Keep Calm and No, I Won't Say Another Word About Mead

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I'm back in Oswego! This is fantastic. Just trust me on this one. Not only was it snowing, which was pretty awesome (albeit the temperature), but everyone was already back by the time I got in! I missed everyone, and for once I didn't mind a crowded room at all.

The trip back is always tiring. I don't mind it that much, but the effects of sitting in a car for five hours without counting the infrequent rest stops do hit you right after you finally get a chance to settle down. Yes, I was up before the sun this morning (and that meant before my Mom's derpy parrots started their calls to their Sun God reminding us every day is incredibly amazing no matter what so wake up right now,) and yes we hit the road before 9am. It wasn't so busy, which was great for us. Traffic makes my Mom a bit annoyed -- and I don't blame her.

Now that I'm back I realize just how much I procrastinated. I have one creative nonfiction essay due Thursday which is supposed to be about "Firsts" and one page plus an outline of another essay due Thursday as well. That's disregarding writing up another couple of assignments plus a possible outline for a possible circle for Thursday's O.S.P.A. meeting. You would think things could space themselves out a bit more on that day, but hardly... such is the life of a college student.

When things get really busy -- because I'm not really that stressed anymore, just understanding there is only so much time and I am only human -- there are really only two options.

No! Go home, blog post! You're drunk!

One would be to actually have the initiative to get everything done as calmly as possible. Take things one step at a time. Include Mead if you must. (lol.) Breathe deeply and just power through it with the best effort you can put forward given will power. The other option is the one I try not to fall into that often -- wait until the last possible moment and then stay up all night to finish everything on time.

I don't see the use in that. I'm not so much a fan of stress, to be honest -- but again, some things I am even less of a fan of. And I get bored or lazy about things sometimes. Don't we all?

But here's a small list of non-Mead related stress relief techniques for the last few weeks of the semester.

One -- Meditate. Or, try to meditate. And when it fails, write why somewhere. If it doesn't fail, record what you experienced before, during and after.
Two -- Sleep enough. Sometimes it's impossible. All college kids know that. But getting things done early and sleeping enough helps keep things slightly sane.
Three -- Go somewhere different from normal. If you always do homework and then get distracted in your dorm/room, go find another place to help prevent aformentioned distraction.
Four -- Turn off your phone and internet until you get a good chunk of one assignment done. Take breaks, but make sure it's more homework than break.
 Five --  Read something just because it is what you like. It has kept me from losing it completely in almost every class.
Six -- Be among friends. Study together or go to dinner together. Spend an hour or so in good company. Be stressed together. Talk it out. Then get back to work.
Seven -- Get some fresh air. It's cold now, so do as you must but -- open a window, or take a short break just by standing outside of your dorm/building.
Eight -- Think of at least one positive/interesting topic for classes you hate/dread. It's difficult. I still have trouble with it. If you can find something and have the liberty to write what you want, go for it. Boring = stressful when it comes to essays.
Nine -- Sing. Just for the hell of it. At least it's a break from writing.
Ten -- Keep calm and drink Mead Coffee or Tea, but remember number two on caffeine and alcohol intake. (Peppermint might help a ton of sickness from headache to stomach ache to nasal congestion, but camomile and lavender might be great about helping deal with stress.)


I hope it helps. We forget sometimes in the rush of the semester between Thanksgiving and Yule break what it is to be calm. We forget we're only human. We forget that there would be more time for things if stress didn't make us vegetables, exhausted and unmotivated. So keep calm. And finish the semester strongly.

Free Tea and Northern Winds

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So today, in the stack of mail that my sister had so kindly shoved into the mess that is the desk in the bird room, I found that I had recieved a free sample from the Republic of tea just a day or two before I got home.  Okay, so I thought Teavana was excellent... and it really is. But this tea was great. I think it was mostly because it was free, though.

Another thing. It got really cold today in spite of the free tea. For a while we forget that each day inches toward winter when New York insists on having very off-the-wall weather -- for instance, I left Oswego and it was warm enough to wear flats and a sweater as opposed to a coat and boots...bearing in mind that it is later in November. How strange...

I'm somewhat glad that Winter is just around the corner though. What with the wind and the slight bit of snow upstate, it reminds me that my semester is almost over, and that, my dears, is really all that matters. I've had a rough last few weeks and have been in an awful class that I can only praise in that it made me realize what I didn't wish to study.

But all is well. Again, time is moving.