BLOG: Doing (or don’t-ing) the Bambi
Picture This
By Matt Anderson, Blogger
June 2, 2008 | 3 p.m.
"Spring has sprung!”
Shut up, friend of mine who has told me that unbearably trite declaration for the tenth time today. Go put on your bathing suit and play Frisbee with all the other kids on the East Green lawn. Play your music from your big black boom box, eat your melting ice cream cone from Jefferson Dining Hall and let your skin fry like bacon in the sun’s UV rays.
Sound oddly specific? Wouldn’t you like to know?
OK, maybe it was a little particular. Don’t judge me on my desperation—I’m just as ready to forget that winter quarter ever happened as the next guy is. Spring is about change, right? It’s about forgetting that snow even exists, and that you can get sick just by looking at someone, and that life sucks, and that the sun doesn’t shine for three months straight (give or take a week or two). Damn it, winter depression I hate you! You’re suffocating me! Spring is about happiness! Spring means flowers, bunnies, grass and sunshine. Do the Bambi, bitches!
But this is America and, like all things American, nothing can be like it’s meant to be or has ever had the desire to be. Don’t get me wrong, it’s only May and I’ve already seen enough flowers, bunnies, grass and sunshine (and even the return of a few of those infamous coked-out squirrels) to convince me that spring is right on our heels, about to flat-tire that new pair of sandals you’re trying to break in.
But I’m over generalizing, maybe even being a bit insensitive. My point is that spring, like flowers, grass and even life, doesn’t change overnight like we would all hope and imagine it. When I left this town for spring break, I said good mother-effing riddance to winter’s wretched wrath. (I’ve grown so accustomed to Ohio University’s quarter schedule that I have come to expect the end of the quarter to be the end of its respected season as well. Ah, college.) Well, I don’t know about you, but while the majority of my friends drank, sang and were merry on the warm, sandy beaches of the southern United States and Mexico, I sat in northeastern Ohio, freezing my ass off as I watched the snow outside my window fall slowly to the ground. (I’m not bitter, I swear.)
So, natch, I envisioned my three hour car ride down to OU to be like a step through the dresser into some sub-tropic Narnia, where the cold would die and a land rich in fruit, flowers and warm summer weather awaited me. Needless to say I was a few hours (actually more like many more hours) from THAT paradise. Images of my grand arrival to this rejuvenated place were shattered the moment I stepped out of the car to an overcast sky and a bitter cold wind that blew straight through me. Come on Athens, I gave you a whole week!
All right, so maybe I was bitter about it for a while. I made sure to check Weather.com each and every new day, hoping, praying that the temperature would break 60 degrees. Then, a few days later, it did.
But that’s not the point.
The point is I had to wait to even admit to myself that spring was upon us. It wasn’t long until I made a connection between spring’s gradual arrival with the other “issues” I had with my life. Everyone has those things they just want to go away, things they want now. Like I said, we live in America. We want things now. We want them now and we want them in full—no half now, half later B.S.
I, in particular, am especially guilty of this flawed mindset. I expect to fall asleep one night, trees bare and shaking, to a morning hot and humid, with trees that are full and green. But change takes time. Slap a Band-Aid on a wound and it won’t heal overnight. It’s something we all know, but something we don’t like to acknowledge.
I had unrealistic expectations for the springtime. Maybe it was because I just wanted winter quarter out of mind, out of sight A.S.A.P., or maybe because I really wanted to play Frisbee with my friends, or because I wanted to play my boom box and eat Jefferson Dining Hall ice cream…(sigh.)
Anyway, regardless as to why I wanted spring so badly, the reality was that I couldn’t have it as easily as I wanted it. Along the same lines, I couldn’t put winter behind me any more easily. A lot of what I went through winter quarter still festered in the cracks of the buildings on Court Street, still wrapped tightly around the branches of trees that had not yet budded.
When the flowers on the trees bloom in the springtime, the branch’s bare bones aren’t forgotten. It’s like the picture I had taken a few days after I’d gotten back to OU. Although you can see the hope peeking out through the pores of the branches, you’re still not quite there, yet. The change, like spring, flowers, grass, and yes, even life, is gradual and you must be patient. I know it sucks, and I’m sorry, I really am. Just don’t blame me, all right? Blame the winter.
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