stormy weather

what the fuck happened? you wake up one day to discover that the last eight have snuck by. unnoticed. on tippy toe. and what is there to show for it other than an unkept house and unkempt hair. actually, let's not even talk about the hair.

i'm so fucking tired of the top news story being about the snow storms. who fucking cares? i mean, blizzard shmizzard. when you grow up where i grew up, winter weather isn't newsworthy. it's life. (i won't go into how we sometimes had to trudge to school at a 45 degree angle or how we usually wore our halloween costumes overtop puffy snow suits). unless those time-wasting media reports contain: a) in-depth analysis about climate change and the stunning impacts of global warming and b), are followed by slick and directive messaging about how we can stop killing the earth, then c) fuck off. far less resilient people than maritimers have dug their way out of towering snow drifts. a little perspective please people.

as for me, a storm of my own has kept me indoors. if i'm not huddled under blankies or contemplating naps, i'm hunched at this fickle laptop trying to deliver some semblance of product to unwitting employers. while i'm nowhere near the locations hardest hit by the wacky weather, i believe my symptoms indicate that i'm smack dab in the middle of a good old fashioned winter depression. whew... a neat and handy theory to cling to, just in case i want to overlook that the bizarre moods and behaviours descended well before the fall fell away. nothing to worry about though, 'cuz i've decided to bear down. i've had this image in my head of a ram with its head lowered, ready to charge. but given the theme of this rant, let's just say that i'm cloaked in my one piece skidoo suit with my frosted eyes poking out from the oversized scarf wrapped four times around my head, pushing my angled self against the fierce blizzard wind.


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