There it is, the conundrum wrapped in a paradox that I really wish was wrapped in bacon: February is both the shortest and the longest month of the year. A short, painful 28 days that lasts forever. February begins when winter has gotten old and oppressive, and doesn't end until spring arrives. It's still February in my world. Never mind that it's already mid-March.Seasonal affective disorder? Perhaps. Perhaps I just miss all the people whom I've loss contact with because the general ick-feeling produced by the weather has separated us since Christmas. Perhaps I'm just sick of the people with whom I'm forced to have regular contact in spite of the weather. (Teachers of the world, is it just me or do classes that begin in second semester always have lower morale than those that begin at Labor Day?) Many of my colleagues are citing Spring Fever or perhaps that no man's land between the Known Drinking Holidays of Spring Break and St. Patrick's Day as the reason for students checking out. But how many of them every really "checked in" this semester? I see moments like this from Missed Periods and Other Grammar Scares, and -- while I constantly see similar issues, never have they been so pyrotechnic -- it makes me wonder if the answer isn't just to raise one of your own and don't let them get away with shit like that.
Perhaps the past six weeks have seen the pendulum swing too drastically, too fast. Great news followed by devastating news. Again and again. Sometimes within hours of one another. Including the loss of my grandmother and putting some tough questions to myself, the answers to which would drastically change my day-to-day life.
Perhaps I just wish you were a dragon.
Like the above cartoon from exocomics.com says, Sometimes I look at you and I'm sad because you're not a dragon. I want you to be a dragon. I want you to be fabulous and fascinating. Bring a little bit of danger and a whole lot of wonder into my life.
Displace my desire for change onto someone else? Gladly!
Perhaps sometimes I look at myself and I'm sad because I'm not a dragon. After all, isn't that the basic life goal for all of us? Not power or money or an ass-kicking 401K. What we really want: to be awesome. Like a dragon. Dude. That's it. Be a dragon.
(Oh, and just in case you found this post too sad, I give you the top canines of sci-fi. Puppies!)
