Thank You Notes.

Sharing a few thank you notes of my own. Shall we?

Thank you, Baz Luhrmann, for attacking my medulla with the craziest visuals this side of Moulin Rouge in your interpretation of The Great Gatsby. It was enjoyable, for the most part, and sealed my conviction that the Academy Award presented to this one earlier this year should be taken away immediately and given to DiCaprio. Enough already. The man is supremely talented and we live in a world where Marisa Tomei has one. Come on.

Thank you, bestie, for being the bestie. She really is the very best. Never have I enjoyed a friendship where I’m thrilled, fascinated, incensed, and very much loved all at the same time, most of these emotions happening minutes after the other. I can only hope I provide the same sweet madness for her.

Thank you, darling schizophrenic weather, for justifying the fact that I never put away my winter clothes. It’s almost the middle of May, you guys. And it is currently 54 degrees. My sweaters continue to laugh with abandon.

Thank you, firm and good decisions. Of late, I’ve had to make some interesting decisions in my life. Being someone who wants most of the people in my life to be happy, I was forgetting that ultimately, my happiness is important, as well. Taking the time to really deliberate this, along with lots of prayer, truly helped in finally making my choices. And I’m happy.

Onwards? Yes?

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.

Springtime, for Girley, and…not just yet

Just yesterday, only 24 hours ago, the weather behaved as if it had vengeance on its mind. Snow everywhere, ice to follow, rain to top it all off. Today? It looks like spring! Lest I speak too soon and too gleefully, however, it is not spring. It’s a mirage. It’s cold. (I love how the weathermen and women think 40 degrees is warm. And, yes, 40 degrees is better than 29 degrees. But it ain’t warm). It’s winter. But with the sun shining and the clearing away of the white/icy stuff, it kind of results in that Spring Feeling.

That Spring Feeling (noun and adjective, probably; I’m rusty and no one cares): 1) the heady, dizzying anticipation of the season to come after winter finally fades away. 2) the constant envisioning of powder blue skies and warm breezes that delight the senses. 3) seeing oneself in variety of snazzy outfits, engaging in oodles of creative writing, and walking/driving around with a scarf tied around one’s head, a la Roman Holiday.

That old Feeling manifested itself for a bit this afternoon as I took in the sunlight and the melting snow. Admittedly, it was exciting. It was almost moving. Nevertheless, before I allowed myself to be utterly consumed by that sweet, wondrous feeling (sometimes accompanied by the scent of actual lilacs), I reminded myself that, yes, snow is returning. Tomorrow.

That Spring Feeling: 0, Reality and Winter: 1,000.

In other news, I’ve become slightly incensed by the “witty” banter on most radio shows. It’s never funny. It’s never funny!

In other, other news, the weekend looms before me. Let’s hope that I remain in writer-mode and, um, modest with the eating.