Right now, I have a bunch of tulips sitting in a vase on a side table. They look rough - obviously, they're dead, with the tips of the leaves all dried up and the petals on the floor. And that's sort of how I'm feeling today.
Even though the weather has been amazing and warm, I'm still getting all winter-blah feeling up in here. It's awards season in Hollywood, and while they're off wearing gowns and being tanned, I'm marooned in my house with only my sweatpants and a freezer full of Rolo ice cream to keep me company. I guess it's better than last winter, when my walls were infested with raccoons and they kept having passionate, soap-opera sex and domestic disputes that were clearly audible through the plaster and lathe. Audible, and frightening when they started screaming at each other at three in the morning and it sounded like a horror movie was happening on the other side of the (thin!) wall and it was dark and I was roused from my pre-slumber drifting with icy-cold hands of fear throttling my gut. That was fun.
Winter is just a blah time for some people. That whole Seasonal Affective Disorder - which I don't suffer from, thank god, or else I would be permanently parked under on of those embarassing UV lights that are supposed to "cure" or "fix" your winter blues by bombarding you with vitamin D, or whatever folderol voodoo science it does - is very relatable. I'm less interested in doing things like riding my bike. My metabolism suffers. Everything just sort of winds down. In the summer, people are excited! To be out! Of the house! But come January, most folks hunker down and wait it out.
It's not helping that I've gone out twice in the last two days. Alcohol is a depressant, and while it may get the party started in the evening, it totally bums me out the next day. All I've done so far today is watch episodes of Glee and take a bath. That's not productive. It's not exactly a hangover - I'm not wrapped around the toilet or sweating out vodka or anything - but it's a subtle unbalancing of the day. It's like walking on a big ship. You know something's a little unsteady, but everything looks normal, so it feels extra weird when the looks and the feeling of reality don't quite overlap.
Booze or winter blues, the feeling's the same. There's a frustrated urge to sleep through most of the day, to spend all my time wrapped in a duvet and sighing. That's what I'm doing right now, actually. It's not helped by moaning about it, either. Unlike spats with friends or trouble at work, the feeling of discontent that happens in the short winter days isn't one that can be talked out. We just have to wait. Wait until the buds are on the trees, the grimy snow finally melts away, the clocks have been adjusted, and the parkas have been stashed in the closet for the season. Winter is a waiting game, and unfortunately, today I feel like I'm losing.