Le Jerk au printemps

I have writer's block. A lot has been going on lately, but I don't know how to write them down. Perhaps this is symptomatic of a mild case of the end-of-winter blues. Winter has a way of hanging around in this city long after it has worn out its welcome, like a drunk friend who refuses to get off your couch even as the sun glares menacingly at his hung-over face, caked with dried sweat from the night before...but I digress.

Anyways, on the inane subject of weather and seasonal patterns, it seems spring has quietly snuck in under my radar. If Persians didn't celebrate their new year at the beginning of spring (and hold large receptions at the lobby of my building) I would never have known that spring had arrived. Frankly, I can't picture renewal, regrowth, and rebirth when there is still snow on the ground.

Keeping track of the seasons is really quite a difficult task. Things were easier in Vancouver, where we only have two seasons: rain and summer. Here, people embrace all these old almanac seasons like spring, fall, winter, and summer. Whatever. It's easier not to keep track of the seasons at all. In my room, it's sunny and 24C everyday of the year.


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