(no subject)
I'm sitting in the office, trying to outline this shit-ass paper about a dead Greek farmer and the poem he wrote to his idiot-stick brother, and I can't help but let my mind wander to other things. Outside my window facing east I can see the signs of another round of thunderstorms firing up, the lightning dancing in white streaks across the sky. The radar says that it's going north, so that storm will miss us, but the beauty of the light above the trees reminds me of the glory that is spring. It's been a wet, miserable, cold day today, the kind that makes you want to stay inside and ignore the world, yet it's been a spring rain, a rain that brings life with it. It chills you to the bone to be out in it, but you know inside yourself that the rain today brings green and red and yellow and all the colors of the rainbow as the first flowers bloom and the grassy mantle of the earth shakes loose it's dull brown overcoat in favor of lush green life. In the distance out my north window I can hear frogs already chirruping, maybe crickets, whenever my neighbors choose to be silent. A constant chorus of high-pitched singing tells me that it's not only the earth, but the animals and insects that struggle to arise at this time of the year. Geese fly in random groups hugging the contour of the earth looking for food and a pond to rest on while songbirds look for their old nests and a place to raise their young. Would that the people across the parking lot gave as much attention to bringing up their brood as properly as the birds do. Yelling, squalling, mewling women constantly berating the five children that they are supposed to care for who run like bandits around everywhere. If one is to live cheaply one must put up with white trash, but that does not mean that one must like it. We are to love our fellow man, but that doesn't mean we have to patiently put up with them. Alas, spring means open windows that bring in the good and the bad.