When I woke up this morning, it was raining. Most people in town are happy because this summer has been so incredibly hot – so many days over 100 degrees fahrenheit (38 degrees celsius) – and there’s been a drought. It amuses me the way people in this state whine incessantly about the hot weather, though. The only time most of them encounter the weather is when they walk from their nice air-conditioned houses to their air-conditioned cars to get to their air-conditioned offices. I, on the other hand, do not own a car and had to cycle around under the blaring sun. It was so hot that it melted the plastic on my bike’s handlebars!
I’m a skinny girl (maybe only 110 pounds, and five feet six inches tall), so there is nothing I hate more than being cold, as I don’t have much natural insulation. I love being warm, and feeling the sun’s rays on my skin, and I would prefer to be too hot than too cold any day. Interestingly, I have only ever fallen in love with men who emit so much body heat that they are like small furnaces. I never consciously chose men like this but I certainly can’t imagine loving a man with a similar body type to me. We’d be one big nasty mass of bony knees and elbows! Yuck!
Despite my love of warm weather and sunshine, I can’t help but find it somewhat bland and boring when you have it practically all year round. Americans always ask me about the notoriously rainy weather in my country of origin but, to be honest, it never really bothered me when I was there. I’m not even really sure anymore that it did rain that much. I think it was mainly just overcast. I know the dark, cloudy skies affected my mood greatly when I still lived there, but I miss them now. They made everything look so brooding and mysterious.
When I move away from this city, I will surely miss the fact that I can run practically all year round without having to worry about buying thermals. However, there is just something decidedly too perky and positive in this place, and I think it has got a lot to do with the weather. The city where I’m from can be a hard, unforgiving place, but it’s precisely these qualities which make the people so fucking resourceful and tough with a great sense of humour. Most of all, I miss the clubs (one club in particular) where I’d dance all night, off my face on ecstasy. Like I said, it’s a hard city… and we party hard, too. “Parties” in this city are, in contrast, laughable affairs especially now that I’m in my early thirties. Americans in this part of the country tend to get married off in their mid-twenties and put “their partying years behind them”. Their “parties” consist of people standing around a beer keg, making civilized chit chat, and they’re usually over by midnight. Where are the drugs?! Where is the underlying sexual tension?!
The only time I ever liked this state was when I went off to the desert to get married. I couldn’t have found scenery more different to my own country’s but there was curiously something in its stark, harsh beauty, which reminded me of home. Yes, the sun was blaring down; yes, the desert is nearly always hot and sunny…but I loved the fact that I could die in such an environment…
Up until recently, I thought it would be a nice idea to get a job as a teacher in some desert town and move there with my cats and dogs, and, oh yeah, I suppose Midwestern Man would have to come, too…In the end, though, I realized it would be too tortuous a process to get certified to teach in this stupid state.
Speaking of cats, I’ve now started dreaming about them! It’s not the first time I’ve dreamt about cats, though – I sometimes dream about giving birth to a black cat. Fuck knows what that means. Last night – and I will keep this short, as I know there’s nothing more boring than hearing about somebody else’s dream – I was in a house (more like a strange, artist’s studio) with a long-haired man who was apparently my boyfriend. There were cats everywhere, with strange, crimped fur. There was also a journalist who was trying to pass herself off as an artist, but who had really been sent to spy on me (huh?!). My “boyfriend” gave me a kitten to take home with me but at one point I saw him trying to hide the face of a kitten which he had actually cut off, which I found really disturbing, as he had seemed like such a nice guy. At the end of the dream, he gave me some sort of meat on a stick to eat, which was really tasty until I realized it was dead cat.
Hmmm. I’d like to think that this meant something, but it probably just suggests that I need to stop spending so much time with cats, and should get out the house more.