I'm not going to lie and say that I loved winter or anything crazy like that, but I do have to say i *almost* miss it. Waking up on January 8th to 70 degree weather in fucking Massachusetts shouldn't be a coming-to-be-normal practice. Sure, the warm afternoon sun does feel good on my skin, but the strangeness of it all settles in my heart like a stone.
Nature is beginning to think it's spring, and of course by hundreds of thousands of years of internal programing they are right, when it's been above freezing for enough days is should be spring. Human beings really are the virus we've been described as, and no matter how much I hope and pray that energy efficient light bulbs and half-assed hybrid cars will save us, my rational side knows that is a complete load. Maybe I can look on the bright side a moment and say we're not entirely doomed, but either way we've fucked up the earth beyond our own recognition of what a season is, or what weather is.
It sounds ultra-dramatic, but I try and appreciate the shit out of every day that I get up and total anarchy hasn't broken out. Each day that I wake up and find that the electricity still works, food is still available, and friends can still be contacted is a blessing because it all may stop at any time. And I'm not Nostradamus, I'm not making predictions here like I know something someone else doesn't. The only thing I know is that I can feel it in my bones when I go outside and realize that I've moved to North Carolina without moving. Something is so very, very wrong.
