Cold weather is my ideal weather. Despite my decade plus spent in the south going to college and after, winter is my favorite season.
Cold weather is wonderful. Layers of warm clothes, holidays that gather family members together, and just the glory that is snowfall. I love it.
There is just something about the silence of snow that is wonderful to me. Mind you, I despise driving in it, because I never learned to drive in snow and my car, before it got wrecked, had just gotten snow tires.
I can appreciate other seasons, but cold weather times are my favorite.
A job I’d like to do for just one day, just to fulfill my childhood dream, is be a bartender at a tiny, hole in the wall, nowheresville bar. Just once.
I wanted so badly to be a great server and bartender when I was growing up. My mom worked at TGIFriday’s when I was a kid and somewhere in the world is a picture of little six or seven year old me wearing her uniform shirt like a dress.
In times of strife or stubble, much like I am going through right now, I bring to mind Max Ehrmann’s poem Desiderata. It is a few years shy of a century old poem, but resonates so strongly with me in so many ways.
One line in particular strikes a chord with me to the point of wanting to get it tattooed onto me:
Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
That last line in particular helps me. “You have a right to be here.” I don’t always feel that I do. I don’t often feel like I wish to be here. It’s a daily battle I wage against my own brain gremlins.
I hate that I’m suicidal. It makes me feel like I’m weak or something.