Intervention: The Weather

I must preface the following diatribe with this: my love for springtime knows no bounds. I love the warm breezes; throwing my mountains of tights and stockings in the air with wild abandon, knowing that I will not need them for the coming months; making peace with the pollen that will attach itself to me like the tightest windbreaker. I love spring.

However.

The forecast for the upcoming week. It’s still wintertime, friends. (Well, if we want to call this weird period from December-March “winter,” which is wasn’t; it was more like wintnot, being that we saw virtually no snow–the little snow we saw melted in seconds–and the frigid air we were all expecting came here and there, only to be interrupted by weird Caribbean breezes.) Nevertheless, we can expect a very springy week ahead, I suppose in preparation of the official start to spring, which is next Tuesday. (Which means this whole diatribe is basically meaningless, but I had to say something, ok? It’s my blog and I’ll diatribe if I want to.)

The weather is so schizophrenic. The weather needs a ton of us gathered in a rose-scented room, poised to hug it back to normalcy when it finally stumbles in, all worn out from freebasing spring with winter and summer with fall. The weather needs help. I hate to personify something that so does not need personification, but it’s just utterly baffling. I mean, I know it’s because of the wacky atmosphere and the earth shifting or something (obviously I wasn’t listening in any science class, whatsoever), but it’s a little ridiculous. Oh, and my poor sinuses. The barometric twists and turns typically render me into a sniffling, headachey, complaining monster.

If you’re wondering, though, yes: despite my grumbling, I will happily throw those tights and stockings in the air this week. So, yes: this whole complaint was still basically meaningless.

rain=brussel sprouts.

I detest brussel sprouts. My feelings about rain, then, are obvious.

However, because we’re all about self-psychoanalysis on here, and because gritting my teeth each and every rainy day (and subsequently ruining my teeth, in the process?) is getting old, I need to figure out why I’m so anti-rain.

(It will rain all week. All week. I seriously considered finding a therapist.)

Is it the clouds? I’m in love with the sun. I’m in love with light. I’m in love with a shiny, sparkly day, and when that is stolen away from me because of those voluminous things that hang above my head, I gets angry. And so, so sleepy. The clouds invariably steal my energy. And my will to wake up and be an active participant for the day.

Is it the black sky? The sky was meant to be blue. Or coral-y and golden and pink, as the sun is setting. Those are the only hues I will accept. I cannot accept the foreboding and queasiness that come with a black sky. I naturally want to hide under the covers and stop thinking about stories I read by Edgar Allan Poe.

Is it the umbrella? Kudos to the inventor of the mighty umbrella. Thanks for that. Unfortunately, the umbrella rarely works for me. I struggle with it because I’m sugar and cannot melt, which means the rain cannot touch one part of my skin, but I never succeed in my struggle. Small or large, the umbrella usually gets blown every which way by the wind, which gets me wet, which gets me angry, which has me shaking my fists at the heavens. (I do this mentally, as directing fists toward the sky does not bode well in public.)

Is it the mood? It gets me down. Enough said.

Is it the memory? I went for a walk one day. It was sunny and beautiful. At the beginning. Moments later, the sky turned black, the voluminous clouds appeared above my terrified head, and I.was.drenched. Literally, I was heavy with rain. Worse, as I slowly made my way back home, I was repeatedly splashed with puddles from the nearby street, courtesy of drivers that threw caution to the wind and were driving like mad. (And clearly gave no heed to hydroplaning, not that I wished that on them or anything…)

So…

This brief list has done nothing for pychoanalysis. I hate the rain even more. I am reminded of why I grit my teeth, why I think of brussel sprouts and every other cursed thing, why…

But, for the sake of positive thinking (since I do that negative thinking stuff so, so well)–

Flowers grow.

Dry, rough ground is saturated.

The animals on the ground need a shower, too.

The sound  of rain (when I’m safely inside, or trying to fall asleep) is simply amazing and does wonders.

Um, thinking of more…

There are plenty of awesome songs about rain, which is a good thing. One of my favorites:

“Laughter in the Rain,” Neil Sedaka. Soft rock goodness.

Cute raincoats, which is always a plus.

Despite my little cold heart, there’s something kind of romantic about walking in the rain with your beloved other, I guess. I mean, I would have to be fully covered, but I get it.

So, there are six great things about the rain, which outnumber the five facts things I listed in the beginning. Not bad. I can’t be blamed, however, for shaking my fists at the sky as this rainy week progresses, though.

For my readers, what do you particularly enjoy about the rain? Or do you even enjoy the rain?

smorgas, meet bord.

I’m all over the place today. Restless, bored, stressed out, ready for the weekend, not ready for the weekend. This is a day of polar opposites, it seems. Prove it? See below.

On a good note, a few friends and I started a book club! Yay and yay! I’m pretty excited. Our first book will be featured on “Kitten Heel Marvel is Currently Reading…” soon. It’s a beloved favorite. From an author I will never tire of. Discussed with friends I adore and love. Can’t wait.

But there’s this other storm (told you about the polar opposites, didn’t I?) brewing in me. It’s a heady combination of envy, sadness, defeat, resignation, and acceptance, all of which has manifested itself into slumped shoulders and a lot of sighing. I don’t know what else to say. Logic and emotion are currently battling it out. We’ll see who wins. My money’s on emotion, though, based on those potent adjectives previously listed. Nothing is reasonable in that list. It’s a stinker for sure. If I’m found lying in the corner a day from now, frothing at the mouth, we’ll know which winner took all. Sigh.

On another good note (see? I’m not playing with a full deck), check out this cast from the upcoming movie, Contagion: Matt Damon, Marion Cotillard, Jude Law, Jennifer Ehle, my Elizabeth Bennett from the originial Pride and Prejudice adaptation on A&E, Laurence Fishburne, Kate Winslet, etc. etc. It’s delicious casting, it’s an intriguing premise, and I’m so there.

I’m also in the mood for a good, old fashioned French film. Did I talk about this? That I’m currently re-learning Francais? My job has free online Rosetta Stone courses, so I’m taking advantage. So far, admittedly (being someone who loves everything French EXCEPT learning the language), Je suis excite about the whole thing. Anyway, time to hunker down and look for some foreign films.

Ugh, I wish it were time to vacate these premises.

It’s safe to end now, I think. More later. Maybe.

to be real.

This day is already starting out bad.

I woke up late and exhausted (no one’s fault but my own; there’s no reason why I need to watch The Nanny at the wee hours of the morning, although the show is utterly hilarious); a cold rain is currently pounding the atmosphere (and I forgot my gloves, so, naturally, my hands instantly turned into icicles); certain ones I share the office with are extremely moody (no explanation needed); I have absolutely no motivation to do anything right now. And I’m cranky.

I hate days like this.

At least…gritting teeth..at least the flowers are growing.

Today’s weather.

Kissing Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream.

The title above comes from a song I’ve happily quoted to death.

Related to that song, it was quite the Monday.

I was caught having a conversation with myself in the hallway today. Yeah. Full on conversation. Provide an explanation? Sure. I’m going nuts.

This job is making me crazy. Seriously. It’s all-consuming, it’s stressful, it’s all-consuming, it’s stressful…

I mean, I’m not performing heart surgery or anything, but good night, Irene, this place is taking over my life. I’ve always been someone who leaves work where it should remain: inside the building. In a way, I still am that person. When I vacate the premises, I truly vacate. Work shmork. It’s over and out for the day, blissfully kaput, done.

…However, of late, I find myself thinking too much about the premises and what needs to be done. Most of the time, it’s quite a bit that needs to be done. And a million things to remember. And silly questions pointed in my direction. (The meeting is at 4pm. The capable clock on your computer tells you that it’s 4pm. You get a reminder that the meeting is at 4pm. Yet…you ask me if the meeting is at 4pm? Huh?) And thousands of e-mails. And…and…Perhaps this is why I was discovered in the middle of a conversation with myself today. Perhaps.

Solutions? In the short term, I resolve to keep all conversations inside my comfortable head and get up from my desk for plenty of clear-the-mind and take-deep-breath walks around the building.

Until I attain a semblance of sanity, I will totally pretend that I’m singing if someone catches me talking to myself again. Totally.

Where’s Keane?

I was just thinking about them. The music group. “Somewhere only we Know” was a song I hummed to pieces.

Anywho, it’s been quite a while. A few things: the new job kind of fell through for fairly interesting reasons (reasons that hardly need to be advertised here); however, I’m now temping at a company in DC that I really like. So we’ll see what the future holds. Nothing else is new in these parts. Except…

Snow fell upon my section of Somewheres, VA, today, to my everlasting chagrin. My love of snow ended in high school, when it meant that I could sleep in. Now it just means that I’ll have to find sturdy boots and give myself extra time in the morning. Sigh. The weather is not susceptible to my whims or wishes, but I would love to wake up and and see cherry blossoms and blue skies outside of my window. Add to that: a lovely, slight breeze, capri pants, showing off a new pedicure. Will those days ever come? Why has winter lasted for three years?