In which my pens have all turned to inksicles.

TRUE LIFE: I love cold weather.

Oh, that? That's just steam rising off the lake (the picture is from the Trib), you know, normal stuff. I saw the same thing coming off the Chicago River on my way to work via Brown Line this morning.

Yessir, when I stepped out of my flat this morning, I took a deep breath of cold winter air and immediately felt my lungs freezing in my chest. The gangway was covered with a semi solid (but ALL dangerous) layer of ice and crispy frozen snow. The gate was locked in the icy embrace of winter. The sky was a hard porcelain blue. I slipped and nearly died about fourteen times down the block to the bus stop. And the whole time, I was fucking thrilled.

I confess. I'm one of those dirty no good low down winter loving commies. Everytime you're wishing for a heat wave in December, I'm fervently undoing all your hard work by praying for a blizzard. I get geeked when I see snow falling, to the point where I'm acting like a hyped up preschooler confronted with a pile of Sugar Daddies.

But you already knew this, since I've previously confessed my love affair with weather.com. I did forget to mention my main man, Tom Skilling, the bald panther of meteorologists, and the only one I trust to... well, I can't think of a weather innuendo, but the man is an adonis.

Anyway, yesterday was the close of my first semester of graduate school. I celebrated by not working on that twenty page paper hanging over my head, just another day in the life of a grad student, which just brings me one inch closer to leaving the warm comfortable womb of academia. There was an email sent out about thesis projects and I was like psssssht. Then I was like shit that will soon apply to me better get thinkin.

This picture is so accurate it's scary. I mean, I have a job and an apartment and a life (read: a cat) (read: no just kidding I meant a life) and everything, but something about the comforting familiarity of traditional school really makes my life complete. I shudder to think how I will operate without it. No professors? No assignments? No activities conveniently separated into two hour periods? No MLK Day holiday?  The world is a dark and scary place out there.

So in sum: Chicago is entrapped in the maw of a deadly winter cold, I adore snow, grad school schmad school, and I also love Tom Skilling.