I have the oddest sleep patterns. I forget that other people sleep regularly, so I’m used to receiving strange reactions when people realize I’ve sent them an email at seven in the morning or a phone call at six. I was the student body president at my last school, so I would have to send emails or make phone calls to the dean of student life, which I would do when I woke up. One day she stopped me and asked if everything was okay. I didn’t know what she meant until she pointed out that I had left her a voice mail at three that morning. I’m sure it appeared strange; maybe in some drug-induced frenzy I decided to ring the dean and ask her about the day’s senate meeting.
I can think of worse things…like this snow, or lack of snow. If it’s going to be this cold, then I want to see something out of it. I looked out the window this morning and the only snow I found was on my car. I don’t remember hating the cold when I was a child. I first moved to the states when I was six (and again when I was 18) and I loved the weather change. I loved seeing my breath and looking at the dragon-puff of white air leaving my mouth, something I couldn’t do on the tropical island of Saipan. And now, when I’m in my car, waiting for the damn thing to warm up and seeing my breath doesn’t evoke the same kind of pleasure….