I’m blaming it on the weather.
Way way back (2 weeks ago) at the end of February, which now seems long cold months away, remember that lovely warm weekend? Sunday afternoon, I was wandering around the neighborhood in a skirt and a pair of flip-flops, and despite my hangover and cold and corresponding dayquil haze, that day shines fairy-tale bright in my memory. Admittedly, that could have something to do with the new apartment too, since we found it that day, but never mind that. The weather perked up our spirits, the sunshine warmed my toes, and I was grinning like a fool. Since then, it’s been unrelentingly cold and mostly gray and it’s sinking in, I’m afraid. Not for the first time, I am amazed at how much greater an impact weather seems to have on my mood than it ever used to.
Parallel to the coming of spring (spring is still scheduled to arrive sometime soon, right?), things are looking up – I’ve got a project to work on (finally), money coming in, and lots of creative ideas running through my twisted little noggin. I’ve got a gorgeous new rockstar flat to move into in six weeks, with an excellent roommate. That sinus infection/cold thing didn’t turn out to be SARS. And yet, and yet. And yet, I find I’m moody and sullen today, glaring out the window at the gray sky when I really should be Photoshopping, muttering under my mental breath about loves lost and places I’d rather be, reading through old poetry and pecking out a piece here and there. These murmurs create an undercurrent that taxes me, makes it difficult to work, to focus. I tell myself to keep moving, slice on through this, lest the current become a riptide and carry me away. I’ve got nothing much to be worried or gloomy about anymore, but here I am being gloomy just the same. And since I’ve long ago lost the teenaged notion that gloom is somehow romantic and mysterious, I’m bemused and slightly annoyed by this. At the same time, I find it amusing that as much as financial concerns and woes can contribute to my stress level (as those who’ve been around the past few months will certainly attest), the fact that I can breathe a bit easier again really doesn’t have much of a positive impact on my mental state. Really, if no money = depressed and neurotic, shouldn’t money = confident and euphoric? Come on, at least give me bubbly and cheerful! But no, it’s more like no money = depressed and neurotic, money = absence of financially-driven depression and neurosis. I guess the rest is up to me, to replace the space once occupied by worrying about where the rent was going to come from. I’m fine with that. I just would like the gloom to lift. To go for a walk with the sun on my face. Yep, I’m blaming it on the weather, whether it’s the weather’s fault or not.
In other, completely unrelated news, I saw my last opera of the season last week. Say what you like about Gilbert and Sullivan – frivolous and goofy they indubitably were, but don’t think for a second that they didn’t know it. Pirates of Penzance was great fun, done in the grand old G&S 19th century style, without a lick of irony. The self-deprecating wit of the script and music was beautifully framed with colorful costumes (including leggings and footwear I would wear with glee – I did consider hanging around the stage door afterward but I had my doubts about the shoes being the right size), well-acted and beautifully sung performances, and ostentatious choreography involving hula hoops. Yes, hula hoops. Bless them. It was a great end to a great season.
This week, tomorrow night in fact, I’ll be seeing Elvis Costello. Funny how an entire season of opera at the Lyric costs about the same as two tickets to see Elvis – at least, if you buy them through Ticketbastard. I know I really should be more noble and steadfast in my hatred for them, but when the legends of my youth stroll into town, those lofty principles tend to go hide under the bed.
Yesterday (to continue in a totally nonlinear fashion) Lindsay and I went down to Chinatown for dim sum and research. You see, what with my Chinese dragon rug and red enamelled urn and tendency to wax rhapsodic about my months in southeast asia, Lindsay has suggested we just go with an Asian motif and have done with it. Not in the red walls and bamboo everywhere sense, mind you. Just in the little touches here and there sense. You follow. Which means, of course, that we need something Asian in the entryway. What we need in the entryway, in fact, is a gigantic red silk and gold lantern with a big long tassel. Maybe two. We also need more things with chinese dragons on them. The good news is that we found exactly the perfect things. The bad news (well, bad for some – we were pretty pleased) is that we also found gifts. For our hungover friends, we purchased objects that make loud irritating noises: a small lacquered box with two tiny birds on springs that chirp alarmingly loudly when the box is opened, shaken or looked at funny. Also a lovely heart shaped jewelry/music box engraved with the words, “From the bottom of my heart” on its plastic lid. When opened, a little LED in the center of a brass heart hot-glued to the tacky red felt lights up and the tinny strains of “Für Elise” waft out. Klassy. For myself, a lucky jade pendant. It was cold out yesterday, and today I feel I need all the luck I can get, so I’d say it was a good buy.
I’m still blaming it on the weather. Just so we’re clear.