Seasonal Affectedness Disorder

I'm currently trying to get my late-night-paper-writing game face on. I've been explaining away why I haven't written this very simple paper yet all day. I told my friend Shannon that my dad started telling me I should be a journalist back in high school. I work best under pressure. I like to write an entire paper all at once--I feel like my ideas come through in a more consistent tone that way. All that probably means is that I'm either an incurable procrastinator or an untalented writer, but it's how I've always worked. Finishing things long before they are due is counter-intuitive. Take now, for example. I have class in 11 hours, a paper to write before then, and I'm blogging. This is borderline irresponsible. (I say borderline because there is absolutely no way that this paper won't get done before the deadline. I've never turned something in late in my life, and I don't intend to start now).

Anyway, the real point here is that my game face usually comes on its own (I can't coax it too much or I'll just fall apart) so I'm taking this time to talk about winter. It's snowing right now where most of my favorite people live. Mom said they had about an inch this afternoon, expecting 8-10 overnight. Nicole has several in Atlanta (Georgia!!), Sarah's got some in Philly, and there are more than a few messages on facebook about snow days tomorrow (snow! days!). My friends here in Austin are probably tiring of my constant whining about their lack of seasons and my snarky looks when there's a breeze at 75 degrees and they shudder. Reality is, I miss winter. Sure, my body feels cold when it's below 35 degrees out--we are all the same species--but to never experience winter is to never truly experience spring. The changing of the seasons is something I'm truly missing living in Texas (And no, moving from 80 degree February days to 100 degree May days doesn't count. Sorry, no dice).

The first 60 degree day in March growing up felt like an entirely new life was beginning. Seeing the robins in the yard for the first time, or watching as new blades of grass peeked out from below the last melting snow patches beside the driveway, are things that made the transition into spring so rewarding. How can you appreciate warm, sunny days and that new-life smell if it's been 70 degrees since November. Boring. Winter teaches people what a coat check is. And how to shovel a driveway, and how to dress for weather that's something other than sunny, warm days. I own a trench coat, rain boots, and 3 umbrellas. I've used none of them since moving to Austin--I literally think the umbrella is dusty. I have the opposite of the normal diagnosis of Seasonal Affectedness Disorder--I miss winter. I miss it because when it gets "cold" here now I can feel myself being unfamiliar with the way my body reacts to the way the air feels, and that reminds me that I live where there is no winter. The season of my birth, the season I identify more wholy with than any of the others. Sure, I love Rhode Island summers, but snow, ice, frosty windows, the two-sweater rule*, wood stoves, scarves and hats and leather gloves, seeing your breath(!), and rosy cheeks are things I miss.

Shoveling 8 inches of snow off the driveway

*The two-sweater rule is an exaggeration of a policy my father had when I was growing up. If I was cold, he would say, "put on a sweater". Sometimes it was a legitimate request, because I was wearing a t-shirt and no socks in the middle of January, and sometimes I was already wearing a sweater. But we heated our house just enough so the pipes didn't freeze at night and we wore sweaters and socks and used lots of blankets. That's New England for you. If you're still not sure what I'm talking about, read Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton. It'll give you good insight into New England life. It will also undoubtedly depress you.