It isn’t Lent yet, but I’ve been thinking a lot about what I am going to do to make myself less like this:
and more like this:
(Dirty pot not cropped because #nofilter.)
(Both these plants live in my apartment. I swear that ficus is just dormant. It’s going to come back!!)
In the meantime, I’m just trying to get the Februaries out. February is to months what Tuesday is to weekdays or Gary, Indiana, is to the Great Lakes Region: the armpit. You’re just far enough removed from the holidays (or the prior weekend or Chicago) but still so far from spring (the next weekend or not-being-in-Gary, I guess.)
No offense to Gary residents, I was just raised with a real anti-Gary slant in my family. I can’t imagine why.
In any case, my parents were here last weekend. We hung up all my art, built some furniture, went to Mass at the Basilica, and ate a lot of delicious food. My gas ended up getting turned off on Friday (thanks, February) so we also got to rough it with cold water all weekend. (It’s back on… don’t even ask.)
How am I getting through February, this stupid month?
This playlist is step one. A little upbeat. A little dancey. A little chill. A good antidote for winter. Enjoy.
Step two is books. I can’t post a whole book on the blog, so how about a poem…
The Resemblance Between Your Life and a Dog – Robert Bly
I never intended to have this life, believe me—
It just happened. You know how dogs turn up
At a farm, and they wag but can’t explain.
It’s good if you can accept your life—you’ll notice
Your face has become deranged trying to adjust
To it. Your face thought your life would look
Like your bedroom mirror when you were ten.
That was a clear river touched by mountain wind.
Even your parents can’t believe how much you’ve changed.
Sparrows in winter, if you’ve ever held one, all feathers,
Burst out of your hand with a fiery glee.
You see them later in hedges. Teachers praise you,
But you can’t quite get back to the winter sparrow.
Your life is a dog. He’s been hungry for miles,
Doesn’t particularly like you, but gives up, and comes in.
What the hell, let’s have another poem:
There Comes The Strangest Moment – Kate Light
There comes the strangest moment in your life,
when everything you thought before breaks free–
what you relied upon, as ground-rule and as rite
looks upside down from how it used to be.
Skin’s gone pale, your brain is shedding cells;
you question every tenet you set down;
obedient thoughts have turned to infidels
and every verb desires to be a noun.
I want–my want. I love–my love. I’ll stay
with you. I thought transitions were the best,
but I want what’s here to never go away.
I’ll make my peace, my bed, and kiss this breast…
Your heart’s in retrograde. You simply have no choice.
Things people told you turn out to be true.
You have to hold that body, hear that voice.
You’d have sworn no one knew you more than you.
How many people thought you’d never change?
But here you have. It’s beautiful. It’s strange.
February is a pretty crap month, generally, but music and books and poems and The Bachelor can be cool, so that should make it better.