Entropic Fall-ing into the Devil (of) Winter

It's that time of year again.  

When entropy is a live action film just outside of your door. 

Just the thought of it makes me shrivel like a dick in a feminist convention or icy water.  "Look at that gorgeous foliage!! "Is what wealthy elderly leaf-peepers on buses say.  Why is fall a season?  As far as I can tell it lasts for a good two to three weeks, at best.  I'd really love to love fall... like I've said before, if for nothing but for my own sanity.  But for some reason, my brain processes fall as my sanity sitting on a dark cold precipice looking into an infinite cold, dark abyss.  

After eight years in California, where the meaning of Season has a stronger connotation to food spicing than foreboding winter weather, you'd think I would have learned or at least conditioned my brain to know better than to linger on the melancholera that chokes out my psyche during the winter months.  I'd like to "rationalize" it as something primal within me; maybe something twisted into my mind-bogglingly complex, double helix genetic code, which is incapacitating my ability to mentally shut down the urge to hunker/bunker down, shut off all sensors, and fatten up for the winter.  But that's just me being a hopeless romantic about being something decidedly unromantic; 

A depressed, self-deprecating slug.  

Each year I renew my vow to be reborn, like the phoenix out of the ashes! (Which of course I have a tattoo of... helps remind me of my struggle, in case I happen to forget.) Usually I renew my vows to my rebirth in the springtime, following the same schedule of almost every living organism wishing renewal or birth, or rebirth, minus humans on New Year's.  But every year, without fail, the cold winds whip around my doorstep, and simultaneously, those ugly orange, red, and yellow leaves fall and clog my gutters, each one of them falling and collecting into a beautiful castle wall of detritus; 

That somehow encapsulates me into the cocoon of mental hibernation.

Somehow, I've made it through many winters.  But, we all do.  Survival is the great will of life; no one wants to die, unless they want to die.  It's not like my struggle has been even well, a struggle.  I've always had food, water, and an obsession about clothing.  I'm not a spring chicken.  And apparently not a winter chicken.  I doubt being a chicken was ever my calling.  I'd hope to be a (sacrificial) lamb.  Of course, because again, I'm romantical like that.

Look how selfish depression is.  

Who do I talk about in my blog.  Me.  Oh! The Importance of Being Earnest!    Pity partying!  So, where was I going with this?  Ah, yes.  Physiologically... I'm retarded during the winter months.  (Side note: When I present links, it's purely out of navigational convenience; not because I think you lack the inquisitive spirit to google it yourself) Should you catch me at (not) my finest point (winter), I apologize to you.  My mother knows this "seasonal" change occurs in me.   That she accepts it, is another problem.  

But, It shatters my heart.  

My boyfriend knows and experiences every part of it.  My animals know and feel it too.  
I'm minced meat.  Only people or things I care about become my depression's victims.  It (the depression) rips me to shreds before I can even identify it in a lineup or the cops can forensically trace the DNA to a particular culprit.  Is it even real?  No.  The Devil is your own subconscious. 

My subconscious is quite the little devil!~

So, if I am cognizant of this seasonal change, why don't I use my big homosapien brain and do something, anything about it?  It's a constant battle.  Not between good and evil.  It's just a fucking battle.

I love you & thank you,

Lacy

Since I (think I) meant for this blog to incorporate a recipe for each entry, I give you the recipe for entropy and depression!!:   :/

Wilted Swiss Chard Soup-

Wilt chard or use some wilted chard.  I don't care.- add garlic.  Blend. serve hot.  Maybe with some grated Parmesan cheese.  Or any cheese.  maybe serve some bread with it.  Salt and pepper. Maybe light a candle.  Maybe serve as an appetizer to a steak.  I don't know. Sounds kinda gross.  Maybe it's good.  You can't knock it unless you've tried it.  shut the fuck up, be glad you have a meal.

and a soundtrack to go along with your shitty, tasteless, garlicy, dinner.