Soon, the autumn-like weather we’ve been having will collide with these colors. And then I will pass out from the sweet loveliness of it all.
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.
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.
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.