Other than the cat periodically meowing at me for attention and the sound of keys being hit, it is dead silent in here. The fish and snail don&#039t make noise (at least, no noise that I can hear), and no movies or music are playing either in this apartment or those around me. Ian is gone. He and my van are in Linton right now with Damien. I just got home after my night class where we talked about lexicography and I got to hold a book printed in 1509 (original leather, metal and wood cover still intact) on the Gutenburg press. That was cool. But the coolness of that is now fading as I ponder both whether or not I feel like eating dinner as well as what homework to work on first. I have lesson plans for French to do, and there&#039s plenty to do for lexicology (morpheme test, journal to write, chapters to read…). I just can&#039t bring myself to do anything. Maybe it&#039s just because I just got home five minutes ago. Maybe it&#039s the grey and dismal weather that are still affecting me and my mood. Maybe it&#039s nothing and I actually am motivated, I just don&#039t know it yet.

Then again, maybe it&#039s the silence. I don&#039t work better when there&#039s noise, mind you. In fact, noise in the form of movies or cartoons just distract me and keep me from doing my homework/lesson plans. It&#039s just that there are two types of silence: silence with Ian around and silence without Ian around. Silence with Ian around is generally marked by his typing or video games, but it&#039s not really as noisy as a movie or conversation. Sometimes this silence is actually more white noise as he snores, but it&#039s still fairly quiet. Silence without Ian around is deathly silence, eerie silence. It can&#039t be filled by movies or music or video games. There&#039s a void there that simply can&#039t be filled by whatever noise I make, even if I pretend to snore like Ian. It&#039s too quiet. I can&#039t think because this strange lack of presence is constantly tugging at the corners of my mind, making my train of thought veer suddenly as I am constantly reminded that Ian is not here. I don&#039t like this silence. I don&#039t like being alone. I may have the cat, fish, and snail to keep me company, but Ian&#039s empty computer chair just empties me out as well. It&#039s times like this when I just want to walk the streets or go to a restaurant simple to be in a place that&#039s not empty of Ian because they aren&#039t places where Ian should be. It&#039s weird. I mean, Ian and I don&#039t consider ourselves very dependant upon each other, but it&#039s time like this that make me question just how much of an individual I am versus being one half of a whole. I dunno. I just know that until Ian gets back from Linton (assuming that he is coming back tonight), I&#039m going to be just a little off, just a little less able to function fully as I do homework and write up lesson plans about the Baroque and Roccoco period.

Posted: October 19, 2004 at quarter past eight.