Skip The Depressing Stuff To Get To The Positive Stuff And A Creepy Dream

I have mentioned it before, and I will mention it again: spring fucking sucks monkey nards. I do not respond to it well. Here are some reasons, some springing from the seasonal psychosis itself, that makes this time of year so unwelcome in my life. Why, because:

  • Because my apartment becomes a mess, which means it becomes much more of a mess than it is at other times. I have not felt motivated enough to even wipe up after I spill something. I throw my garbage near the garbage bag and feel that's good enough. I brush crumbs onto the floor and leave it at that. I dress by smell, because my clothes are now kept on the floor.
  • Because the sky is grey and has been grey for days and days. The sun strains so weakly through that I can stare directly at it without tearing. It makes my skin feel grey.
  • Because spring is always my hardest season to live through. I manage to keep my head just above water for most of the winter, and then I flounder through spring. Only thoughts of summer keep me from coming completely unglued and calling off the whole thing.
  • Because I am PMSing today, and it is only compounded by my spring depression. I could weep for my ugliness, my fatness, my bloat, my acne, my body hair, how positively unclean I feel all over, my depression, my anger, my sadness. Thank god this sort of thing will clear itself up within a couple of days.
  • Because the Fiery One left today on a short four-day trip, and it had to be a on day that I start PMSing.
  • Because Gordon smells. It is not his fault, because he's just a boy bunny doing what boy bunnies do, but I have to clean up after him. It only takes a few minutes a day, but it reminds me of the fact that no matter how many times I clean up after him, I will still have to do it again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow until he dies and I feel sad. It reminds me of the fact that dealing with my life often feels the same way.
  • Because there is cellophane covered bowl in the back of my refrigerator that I can see is filled with what looks like lumps of dry, green dust. I have left it for an extra week, because I am afraid to lift the cellophane and release the evil mould spores into my environment. I won't throw out the whole thing to avoid it, because I really like the ceramic bowl that is home to this prolific fungus. It is a catch-22. (I always feel that I shouldn't use the phrase "catch-22" when I haven't read the book. It doesn’t move me enough to read it, though).
  • Because I want and want and want and want. What is it? Why don't I know what it is? What thing in me is not being filled?

    But there are good things about life in spring, things that carry me forward from moment to moment as I wait for the sun:

  • Because I just gave a customer $3.41 in change. This is exactly in Canadian change: one toonie, one loonie, one quarter, one dime, one nickel, and one penny. One of everything. Mmmm.
  • Because this morning, outside my building, there was a little brown bird up in a tree by the front walkway. Every time a person passed by, she would hop down from her tree and investigate the piece of sidewalk where they had passed, and back up into the branches she would go until the next person happened by. She was such a pretty little scavenger.
  • Because my friends from outside Cityville have been e-mailing me regularly, and this makes me happy. People remember me when I am not there. I know that anyway, but it's nice to have concrete proof some days. Vlad, Starcat, Batty, Mary, et al, thank you.
  • Because spring will end. Another season will begin, and then I can leave this mess of a season behind with all its depression, anxiety, and paranoia.
  • Because I love wet weather in spite of the greyness it brings on or how its dampness causes my freezer to fill almost completely with ice. There is something very poetically satisfying about sitting in the window of a coffee shop or pub, basking in the dimmed sunlight-through-rain with a pen in my mouth.
  • Because there are English as a Second Language students around where I work, and one of them just asked me to explain the many instances in which people use those squishy, yellow ear plugs that cost a quarter. It is surprising how many instances there are that call for squishy, yellow earplugs.
  • Because I know, really know, that I have it in me to fight and hang on. The rest of the year, I go through my life in a pretty average fashion, but in spring, my mettle is tested. Even though it is a hard time for me, this is the time when I am most sure of my strength to carry me through hard times. It hasn't broken yet in all these years, and I'm not about to let it get to me now.
  • Because fresh, budding green shoots and leaves look so sweet that I want to eat all of them, and then I remember skinning and eating pea pods in my mother's garden, and how I got into trouble for eating the pods while tossing the peas away, and how I just didn't care, because I had learned how deliciously sweet pea pods were for the first time.
  • Because I have a new pair of beautiful sandals waiting to be worn out as soon as the weather warms up.

    See? I had one more good thing to say than I had bad things, so I will live to see another day. Maybe Another Day will be all yellow and sunny and NOT SPRING, but there are no guarantees. Lately, Another Day is all hey, hey, it's Spring here, don't you know. Would you like any razors with your tea? I’ll get through it.

    I think the Fiery One's recent spate of vivid dreaming is catching, because I had a creepy dream night before last. Hitchcock creepy. In the dream, the world was going to shit environmentally. The atmosphere was going awry in such a way that humans were not terribly affected yet, but the birds were. People had to spend as much time indoors as possible to avoid adverse effects, but the birds, of course, had no such luxury. As living had become harder and harder for them, the birds had learned to communicate some of their wants to people, like begging for food or hopping around the dog's water bowl in the yard to get you to put more water in it. The atmosphere felt heavy, like the pressure before heavy thunderstorms, and although the birds weren't yet dying in numbers, you could tell they were nervous and had been for days, hopping restlessly along branches, several kinds of birds resting in one tree, and gathering in groups on the ground. The Fiery One and I were in our apartment, and as night fell more and more birds were landing on the ledge outside our window. Eventually, our windowsill was filled with birds of all sizes, clamouring against the windowpanes to be let in. They squawked and hammered and thrashed their wings to keep their footing in place. It was terrifying. They were fighting for their lives to be let in. The Fiery One and I held ourselves away from the windows out of animal fear. We felt so terrible for the poor things. They would all be dead by morning if we didn't let them in, and yet we knew that letting them in offered no real solution. And so all we could do was listen to their panic, watch their frightened eyes, and wait for the dead quiet of morning.

    This is much too much fun. Draw your own and send it to a friend! (Care of Save Craig).

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