let’s talk about the weather

(No, seriously!)

I was shocked when I moved to Tennessee as a freshman in college and my mom bought me an umbrella. “It’s summer, Mom,” I protested. California summers are hot and DRY. I did not need an umbrella.

It rained weekly in Chattanooga that summer and fall.

I needed an umbrella.

When winter came, though, I was sure I’d be prepared. I grew up in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas. We skied in Tahoe when I was a kid; sometimes it snowed at home. I knew about winter.
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My hometown on a wintry day.

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I did not know about winter.

In an era of global warming, pictures like the above are becoming less and less common in my hometown. Most of California rarely sees a daytime high below 40°F (5.5℃); in Chattanooga, though, it’s common. I remember walking across campus that January and marveling that, at noon, I could still see my breath. I learned to wear gloves and scarves and hats in Chattanooga. I’d never really needed them before.
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Ice skating, anyone?

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This year, as a graduate student in Knoxville, I have again been struck by the weather. Although we haven’t had deep snows or sub-zero temperatures like other parts of the nation, we have had some really cold days — days in the low 20s that have frozen lakes and ponds . . . Days that chill you to the bone and require hot cocoa and cuddling by a fire (or, in my case, a heater) . . . Days when, to keep from going stir crazy, you put on six layers of clothing and go for a run to feel alive . . .

I remember really cold winters in Taiwan and Hong Kong, too. There’s something about humidity that penetrates the soul.
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How do you feel about winter? What has your winter looked like so far this year (that is, if you live in the Northern Hemisphere)? What does it typically look like? (Share a picture of your weather if you feel so inclined!)

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. William Shakespeare

Nature, to be commanded, must be obeyed. Henry Adams

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Frozen solid.

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It was 22°F and felt like 12°F (-5.6℃, or -11℃) with a when I took these photos.

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Poor fishies!

(Ironically, while I was drafting this, it warmed up significantly here for a couple of days. I might even ride my bike tomorrow! . . . Of course, when I mentioned this to the lady at the dry cleaners today, she laughed. “Don’ be fooled! ‘Ees jes’ playin’ wid you. Winter ain’ over yet!”

the beauty of pain

The world remembers many names,
but does it know their faces?
Does it know their stories?
Can it see their traces?

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Boulevard des Capucines, by Claude Monet (1874)

Claude Monet

Claude Monet, impressionist painter ( 1840-1926) was in dire financial straits and dealt with depression for much of his life. In 1868 he tried to commit suicide by throwing himself into the Seine. He also frequently got frustrated with his work. It is said he destroyed as many as 500 of his paintings by burning, cutting, or kicking them. He once wrote that, “Age and chagrin have worn me out. My life has been nothing but a failure, and all that’s left for me to do is to destroy my paintings before I disappear.” Continue reading

superyou

superman

So you can fly? So what? So can I . . . uh, I mean . . .

I got to thinking about my last post. Why is it that we resonate with B.B. so much? Is it that he’s superhuman? More than fifty albums and a gazillion hits is pretty herculean.

But, no. That’s not it. If he were superhuman, we wouldn’t be able to relate to him. That’d be like saying, “I love Superman because I can fly.” But we can’t fly. In fact, the only reason Superman works is because he’s actually Clark Kent, and Clark has his downfalls, too.

The best villains are those we feel sorry for, and the best heroes are people just like me and just like you.

And that, I think, is our clue.

B.B. had a talent. As a kid, he had rhythm. He had rhyme. He had a voice. And, most importantly, he had a song. His song was his passion, and it was his passion that carried him through. Eighty-seven years and he’s still singin’ and playin’ his heart out. And he’s loving every minute of it.

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Clark Kent’s a goober—just like me and you (images: borg.com)

And that, I think, is our second clue.

Everyone has a talent. Some of us have a few. B.B.’s was music. Michael Jordan‘s was sports. Einstein‘s was science. Shakespeare‘s was words . . . Clark Kent could fly. Monet could paint. Tom Hanks could act . . . You can _____. I can _____.

The people the world remembers are those who had a talent and went for it with everything they had. They went for it because they loved it. And because they loved it, people loved them. Their talent had become their gift: the world was a better place because of them.

Can you imagine a world where everyone was doing what they loved?

nanonano

While everyone else in the blogosphere is concerned with National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo), inexperienced bloggers like me just want write. We nonconformists recognize that, even if we could pump out 50,000 words in 30 days, most of those words would suck. Not to mention we have other lives. I have not yet achieved my dream of being able to sit at my computer all day with nothing else on my plate but to write, write, write.

Maybe someday.

Not that I’m opposed to NaNoWriMo. I think it’s a great idea: Write for a cause. Work cooperatively. World peace. All that.

It’s just . . .

Personally, I’d rather work on attainable goals. Take the GRE, figure out grad school, freelance (I’ve got my first freelance article coming out this week!), exercise, write whatever I want whenever I want. I’ll bet you have responsibilities, too. Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure Dickens never wrote for NaNoWriMo? How about Shakespeare? Tolkien? Austen? Homer?

That’s what I thought.