Saturday, February 21, 2009

February: Now Worse than March in all 50 States

It is not yet spring, no matter how hard I may try to wish spring into being. Instead, it is the dreary, wretched, soul-crushing post-winter Armageddon that only February knows how to bring.

I hate February. If it weren't for conversation hearts, I would boycott it entirely.
February sneaks up on you, with its promises of long weekends and Valentine's Day flowers. Then, without warning, February kicks you in the teeth, steals your lunch money, and sleeps with your boyfriend, just because it can. Every successful evil mastermind was a February baby.

February pretends to be nice, but it's just a guise, to get you to start thinking about things like putting your long underwear away, and the pleasure of walking to school without the snot in your nose freezing. If February appears to be carrying promises of good things yet to come, don't believe it. It's just another bit in its clever bag of tricks, to break you before March swoops in with basketball and spring breaks and some glimmer of hope.

It's worse in law school. Now, in addition to the smash-and-grab approach that the winter weather inflicts on you, there's the inevitable early-February realization: "Oh dear eight-pound, six ounce sweet baby Jesus, I have somehow gotten two months behind in my reading. And it's not even spring yet." Then, while the spectre of law school prances gleefully around your newly dug academic grave, February kicks you in the teeth, and then throws some windchill at you. "You're screwed!" February cackles, and a chorus of tiny gremlins toting Cherminsky chime in.

February's such a bitch. Which is why, on this grayest of days, I'm ensconced in the Journal office, staving off despair by eating every conversation heart in a 10 foot radius. I'm typing endlessly on my Corporations homework, trying to soak up the tropic temperatures at the law school, and reminding myself that this is the shortest month of the year for a reason. I won't be broken by the wiles of February. Because really: when you've gotten through the demoralizing treatment of law school, what more can February throw at you?

But when I get home, February, watch out. Because Kahlua + Schnapps + Cocoa = Heaven. Even in horrible, horrible February.

1 comments:

adele said...

I hate conversation hearts, so I try to boycott February every year. Sadly, the calendar isn't helping.

And I am an evil mastermind, and I wasn't born in February... oh, wait. You said "successful." Never mind.

All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson