Fires. Work. Un-sleep.

The fire is disturbing me. Scaring me, even. All natural disasters I've been around before were before I was old enough to really comprehend the scope of the distruction. Tornado season, but without any ones going through our town. The floods in '93, that really weren't near us specifically, though Dad did go to help sandbag other towns. Our creek wasn't sweeping houses away or anything... The fire went through houses yesterday... and a mile north of us, people are being evacuated. It's hard to believe, but then the ash and the brown sky remind you. Going outside is not good. This is not good for me--I'm almost never in my room. Oh well.

And I have work, of course. I spent most of the weekend doing fun stuff. Now I have a paper to write, and math to do, and chem to start considering...

I went to see the choir and the orchestra perform Beethoven's 9th Symphony. Wow. Wow. Wow. I love the music, and they were good. Seriously, that music makes me want to learn German so I can actually understand what they're singing. Or to take a class that analyzes music like the ones in literature that I've taken. Or... gah, or to ignore all my work and go try to get tickets for the last performance so I can hear it again. But I won't.

Much, much whinier than a few minutes ago.

Well, fuck. I hate the fires. I want to be able to go outside. DOS is giving out masks. I still have a paper to do. I feel so... useless. And the paper seems so very pointless. And, and, and...

And what I want right now is to be able to go home, cry, stick my head in the sand, and forget that I have college and that the hills not 10 miles away are on fire. That everything here's ashy. That the Santa Anas are expected to continue tomorrow. That I can't take a breath without the hint of smoke.

And I know I can't, none of it. So I whine. I should do something more productive. Write, maybe. But I have assignments and it's after 2:30. Fuck.