Musings

[Blog] Blurred Time

As an EMT, I’ll ask my patients what day it is (among other things) in order to gauge how oriented they are. The irony of this, of course, is that most of the time I’m not one hundred percent sure myself. Part of that is the weird schedule I keep– no Monday through Friday work for me. Part of that is the weird timelessness that has come about with all the lockdowns etc. during the pandemic. And, sure, part of it is the truth that I haven’t felt all that tethered to exactly what day of the week it is since finishing college. Then again, it’s been even worse for the last few weeks as my schedule shifted temporarily during the holidays.

Every so often, though, it extends beyond that, and I’ll catch myself wondering what time of year it is. Usually after I accidentally listen to a Christmas song in July or watch some movie that is decidedly set in the summer while it’s still January in the real world. In the past I’ve blamed this on the fact that I grew up with four proper seasons, suggesting that living in California without them has low-key tilted my internal clock. But at this point, I can honestly say that I could see myself momentarily forgetting what season it is even if a blizzard was raging outside, so there’s that.

There’s no deeper meaning to any of this that I want to draw out. I just find it interesting and vaguely amusing. Does anyone else catch themselves forgetting what day, month, or year it is?

Musings

[Blog] California Seasons

When I first moved down to Southern California, fresh from Idaho with its four very obvious seasons, I had a hard time believing that the Golden State had anything remotely similar. This place is, after all, a land of sun, sun, and more sun. (And also fire.) It’s not without its charm, but for someone who grew up with temperatures that could range from sub-zero to above a hundred over the course of the year, it was difficult to see.

I say “was” because I have since gotten to the point where I can recognize what passes for the different seasons down here. Winter sees nighttime temperatures occasionally drop down into the thirties. Springtime is warm, but not yet ridiculously hot. Summer is ridiculously hot. Fall oscillates between hot and cooler, with a slight crisp to the air and a different smell. It’s not the same, but I can appreciate it.

Even if I do still think that anything above seventy five is officially Too Hot.

(Also! Update on That Story That Was Supposed To Be Posted Last Week– it got into a fight with me. Or I got into a fight with it. Hence why it’s delayed. But! It’s halfway done and should go up this week. Thanks for sticking with me!)