Tag Archives: Winter

Transitions and Scenes

27 Jan
The plot thickens, every day...

The plot thickens, every day…

So many times in my life, I’ve wondered, ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ Granted, sometimes there is something wrong with me. I forgot to sleep, or eat, or put on pants – whatever. One of the amazing things about living on this crazy planet for a few years is that you notice the patterns and cycles. The ones that happen slow make us feel all warm and fuzzy. Springtime is when the earth wakes up from the slumber of winter. Aw. Nice. But paying attention to the shifting patterns inside our own minds and bodies is a different matter.

What the hell is wrong with me? Nothing. It’s just the middle of winter, and this time around, I’ve got vitamin D. And energy. And I’ve been kicking out stories every week, like a lean, mean, writing machine. It’s a good feeling. However… it’s all part of the cycle, man. This is the time of year for me to kick my butt into high gear and actually do things. I’ve started a lot of little projects, and I’m balancing a huge amount of logistics over my head. Part of me is just waiting for it to come crashing down.

I’m trying not to panic though. Just because things don’t go the way I want the first time, I can still back up and try again. There’s always the next time around, on this big ol’ wheel, right? Because as much as there is sometimes something ‘wrong’ with me, a lot of the time there isn’t. As a writer/editor/artist/whatever you have to be ready for the cycle to come around again. I’m trying to pay attention. I don’t wanna miss my shot, and end up waiting again. Let’s hope I don’t bollocks it up, eh?

Cheers!

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Anti-SAD and Nerd Nightmares

27 Apr

A lot of my friends suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). All winter, they fight melancholy and lethargy and long for the sun to come back so they can get back to normal. They grumble about not being able to get up in the morning without a sun lamp and grouse about needing more coffee. All winter, it’s hell for them.

I don’t have that problem.

In fact, this year, I’m realizing that I may suffer from Anti-SAD, or SODD as one friend calls it (Seasonal Oppositional Defiant Disorder). I don’t hate winter. I love it. I love to nest and stay inside in the cold weather, to watch the rain run down the windows, to have hot tea by roaring fire, to sleep under five blankets. I love that I can stay in and work, without people mowing their lawns at 8 am or chatting as they walk their dogs past my window or asking me to go do outdoor stuff that will only lead to sunburns and heat stroke on my part. I love that winter encourages people to go home early because it’s dark and cold. It’s much more acceptable to leave a party if it’s already full dark at 7 pm. As much as I love being social, I also love that option. Winter is the introvert season.

Reading in Winter

This is not me but you get the idea…

Summer, on the other hand, is the extrovert season. Everybody goes out. On a sunny day, an introvert like me can’t just pop down to the diner for some quiet writing time because everyone I know is there. I get strange looks at the grocery store when the clerk asks if I’m enjoying the weather and I say I’ve been reading in bed all morning. And the worst part? I sleep A LOT more. Every afternoon, when the sun is drowning the world in its horrible heat, I start to fall asleep. It’s involuntary. My eyes just won’t stay open. I want to go crawl into my dim room, turn on a loud fan to block the noises outside, and check out for as long as I can.

And when I do, I have nerd nightmares from being too warm. I hate the nerd nightmares most of all.

In the winter, I don’t have these kinds of nightmares. In the winter, my nightmares are conventional: being hunted by zombies or taking a test naked. But when the weather starts to warm up? My nightmares, they do change.

In the heat, I dream about being hit on by Wil Wheaton. I truly have nothing against Mr. Wheaton, but I don’t want to date him, in real life or otherwise. In the dream, I repeatedly tell him that I can’t hook up with him because 1) I have a fabulous boyfriend already, and 2) Mr. Wheaton is married himself. But he just keeps trying to lay down and put his head on my lap. It’s extremely uncomfortable. Then the dream morphs, as dreams do, and I’m with a bunch of people I used to know a long time ago. One of them, a guy I never really liked and haven’t actually seen in years, proudly shows me his extremely long novel. He’s just printed it out. On my printer. Which was almost out of ink before and now has none. I get really annoyed because now I can’t print out my novel. He doesn’t seem to care and everyone ignores me to congratulate him.

Then I wake up, sweaty and pissed off. The sun from the slats in the window shade blinds me. My dog starts barking because she senses a cat cleaning itself on the patio. Someone next door yells to their friends over the sounds of jazz music at their garden party.

And I fight melancholy and lethargy and long for the sun to go away so I can get back to normal. I grumble about not being able to stay awake because of the heat and grouse about needing more coffee. And for some odd reason, my suddenly cheerful and productive friends just don’t seem to understand, even when I tell them about the nerd dreams. They just don’t get it.