What the hell, guys? What happened to the art of the blog? A fleeting thought could have less than 140 characters, but what ever happened to the more complex ideas? Don't we have anything more important to say? Hell, importance isn't even the issue; it's the depth. What ever happened to our thoughts and ideas and stories about our lives? Have we all become that boring?
Now don't get me wrong, I've been twittering as much as the next guy, and I don't hold myself above the lack of blog that I talk about. I know I've come up short on the blog front as of late, but we all know the circumstances. Responsibility will cool off in the summer as things start to warm up. The weather will change, we'll be outside, and we'll have time to relax and time to think and time to blog (with the exception of all the time we will spend hanging out).
In short, blog or hang out. Excuses will be validated on a per case basis.
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weather. Show all posts
Monday, March 15, 2010
Friday, February 27, 2009
Weather
I'm really tired of not being able to understand the weather. I think I need to become a meteorologist. One day it is -25, the next day it feels like +5. How can the Earth be so cold one day and so hot the next? The sun was shining both days, yet one was unreasonably miserable!
Perhaps my threats to fight winter indoors were enough to make him relax a bit.
Perhaps my threats to fight winter indoors were enough to make him relax a bit.
Sunday, February 1, 2009
The Weather of Life
Everything is a metaphor. I'm always saying it. I don't think good fiction resembles life; a good life resembles fiction. And it's obvious to see. Take me, for example. I love movies, so my life is enjoyable when I have the right music, the right pacing, the right scene, and so on. I particularly enjoy romantic comedies (not actively, but statistically), so the two things worth living for are love and laughs. I laugh, I cry, and in between, I watch and enjoy.
Perhaps you like science fiction, and you enjoy imagining the unimaginable. Life can be more enjoyable when everything works; when your toast comes out just right, not because of luck, but because of science!
Or maybe fantasy novels are your cup of tea. Finding your path; your destiny. A purpose that is not yet seen, but a willingness to let it take you where it may. It can be a compromising burden, but it's yours to carry.
We all have some fiction that tune our happiness into. Even if it's hard, we enjoy it on some level. Otherwise, we would change it, most simply by not giving a fuck. After all, plenty of people live not giving a fuck. It can't be that hard. But we're different. Fiction gives rise to so many literary devices that make us follow the lives we live. Catharsis, foreshadow, and, obviously, metaphor.
Which brings me back around to my main point. Metaphors.
I hope the weather isn't a metaphor for life. It is so beautiful and sunny and warm. I don't want it to get cold again. I don't want the wind to pull tears from my eyes. I don't want to curl up under the blankets alone to keep warm.
January has come and gone, and it's been hard, metaphor or no. Likewise, February is not known to be any better. But there's even less I can do about life than I can about the weather. All there is to do is go outside and enjoy it. Bask in the sun while it shows itself to you. Let it fill you up.
Perhaps you like science fiction, and you enjoy imagining the unimaginable. Life can be more enjoyable when everything works; when your toast comes out just right, not because of luck, but because of science!
Or maybe fantasy novels are your cup of tea. Finding your path; your destiny. A purpose that is not yet seen, but a willingness to let it take you where it may. It can be a compromising burden, but it's yours to carry.
We all have some fiction that tune our happiness into. Even if it's hard, we enjoy it on some level. Otherwise, we would change it, most simply by not giving a fuck. After all, plenty of people live not giving a fuck. It can't be that hard. But we're different. Fiction gives rise to so many literary devices that make us follow the lives we live. Catharsis, foreshadow, and, obviously, metaphor.
Which brings me back around to my main point. Metaphors.
I hope the weather isn't a metaphor for life. It is so beautiful and sunny and warm. I don't want it to get cold again. I don't want the wind to pull tears from my eyes. I don't want to curl up under the blankets alone to keep warm.
January has come and gone, and it's been hard, metaphor or no. Likewise, February is not known to be any better. But there's even less I can do about life than I can about the weather. All there is to do is go outside and enjoy it. Bask in the sun while it shows itself to you. Let it fill you up.
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