I'm aware that it has been a very long while since I have posted here. It makes me feel guilty to see my name at the side of this page, particularly because I haven't even conversed with Paul in quite a while.
I hate being one of those subtly-stressed floundering career women who always blame everything on not having enough time. I know that I waste a lot of time chain-smoking and petting my cat. So it would be lame of me to try and justify my prolonged absence. I do enough of that when I call in sick (three cheers for mental health days!).
Instead I will kiss all of your virtual feet and beg for your quiet forgiveness.
An incredibly brief synopsis: Migraines not yet subsided, life in splinters, cat box perpetually dirty, can't find ANY of the twenty some-odd spoons I know are in this house somewhere.
And that is the extent of my knowledge regarding my latent realization that I haven't been happy in months.
After reading Paul's frighteningly visceral post, "Changes", I felt compelled to share a little secret of mine that makes seasons more bearable and beautiful, even if one hates all four of them.
A long time ago I decided to rename the seasons to suit what they actually DO to me. It's obvious that changes in weather aren't gentle in their violent rearrangement of my outlook and substance. In fact, it may have nothing at all to do with the weather, but rather, my life may follow some twisted cycle of phases that lines up perfectly with Mother Nature's, and it's all pure coincidence.
(Thanks go out to my grade twelve sociology teacher for drilling it into my brain that "correlation is not causation", and forcing me to remove all natural assumption from my daily thought process.)
I don't suggest that anyone adopt the same labels for seasons that I have, as they're likely influenced by my own experience, and the fact that I live in Canada. However, I think 'renaming' the seasons to accommodate one's feelings toward them can promote self-awareness. Because really, who actually knows what the heck "summer" means anyway.
These are mine, respectively:
Boring, Rainy, Miserable Days
Arid, Thoughtless Days crammed full of Denial
Sleepy Days when everything smells Pleasantly Dead
Desperate, Freshly Frozen Days
Also, my personal blog, Lipstick Without Borders, has been flagged for objectionable content. *VICTORY DANCE*
Cheers to my no longer being viewed as the Milk and Cookies of the online literary world.