It snowed this week, for the first time this season. I woke up on Wednesday to a thick frost covering the ground, it flurried on my drive to work, and when I got to work and realized that it was December 1, I wondered what in the hell happened to the spring, the summer, and the fall. What the hell happened to 2010? It doesn’t seem like all that long ago that I was looking out the window at last year’s first snow, and for some reason now that it’s winter again, it’s getting hard to remember the details of everything that has happened since then.
There’s something about winter that always makes me nostalgic like that. I don’t know what it is, but I just get in these moods where I’m stuck dwelling on past winters and burned bridges, and I start listening to emo music and driving around in the freezing cold and chainsmoking and wishing that things weren’t the way they are. Except that now I can’t chainsmoke, and driving around in the freezing cold listening to emo music just isn’t the same without a cigarette to garnish the direness of it all, so this year I’ve instead been spending way too much time curled up in my bed staring at Facebook and wishing that things weren’t the way they are. Which really, is even more dire than the driving and the chainsmoking, because there’s nothing more pathetic than a sad girl in sweatpants.
When it started snowing on Wednesday, my first thought was about sweatpants. I made the decision recently that I want to buy some awesome sweatpants and awesome slippers so that I can really get serious about going into hibernation this winter. I mean, I spend so much time lounging already that it’s probably about time that I upgraded my loungewear wardrobe. And since my mom bought two new flatscreens last weekend, I got the old TV from the living room, which means that I’m basically never going to leave my room now. When it started snowing, I actually panicked a little bit about the fact that I haven’t yet succeeded in my mission to obtain the perfect sweats and slippers. It’s an epic quest, really, and I’m not about to take it lightly. But then the more I thought about it, the more I started feeling even more depressed about the fact that the greatest excitement of my life now is shopping for sweatpants, because all I really seem to do anymore is lay around and gawk at food and hope that my life magically sorts itself out somehow.
Last winter was the first winter since I was sixteen that I can remember not being depressed for the majority of. It was the best fucking winter ever, and I’ll probably spend the rest of my life buying sweatpants and TVs and booze in an attempt to compensate for the loss of the things that made last winter the best. I keep thinking about all the great parties last year at 29, and about the first snow and how idiotically poetic it was even though I didn’t realize it at the time. All I can remember is being really drunk at his house, and the snow started piling up and everyone ran outside and started throwing snowballs at each other. Gleeful drunk college kids playing in the snow, celebrating the end of exams. What could be better than that?
Last weekend I attended my first holiday part of this year at my friend Dan’s house in Cincinnati, and though it didn’t compare to the ragers of last year’s winter, it was really nice to see friends from Wittenberg and to remember that I’m not the only one who is suffering through the bullshit of the “real world.” I talked to Katie about how much it sucks that searching for a job is such a tedious job in itself, and we shared our similar experiences of being offered jobs with pyramid schemes. It was good to be reminded that even though I may not ever get my shit together, at least I have friends who understand how much life sometimes sucks, and how disappointing it is to realize that your private liberal arts college diploma is basically good for nothing except to wipe your ass with.
And also, I won this awesome Half Full glass in the white elephant gift exchange, to provide me with eternal liquid optimism so that I can drown my negativity whenever it becomes necessary, and so that I can drink myself warm as I continue on the epic quest for the perfect sweatpants.