I do not like it when seasons change for the colder. Traditionally I abhor cold weather, despite having been born in a cold country, and living in another cold country. I have lived in several countries all over the place. I have lived through -60C temperatures, and let me tell you, at that temperature sound itself fundamentally changes. It’s a bizarre sensation and something I have always loathed. Fortunately where I am now isn’t quite that bad, but I still feel a familiar twisting in my gut the second I see a red leaf.
Autumn is gorgeous. That’s just undisputed fact as far as I’m concerned. I was born in autumn, so it isn’t like I don’t have positive associations with the time of year, but it still makes a big part of me scream inside.
The simple fact of the matter is that I am not built for cold, and I mean that on a spiritual level.
I’ve actually been able to experience southern Asia and its “oppressive” heat. I’ve never felt more at home than in that humid, deeply penetrating heat under a permanent sunny day with a guaranteed 10 hours of shine no matter the time of year. The equator is a glorious thing and if I have my way I will go and live there. I want only two seasons: Rainy and dry, baby.
I’m just a hot, humid rainforest creature at a sub-atomic level and I can’t express to you how deep and fundamental my anxiety levels get set off with even the slightest hint of colder weather. It makes me just miserable.
People around me don’t really get it. It’s not something I talk about much, but today… I saw a pile of red leaves skitter across the pavement outside as I choked back yet another ibuprofen for my raging cold.
Here we go again.