Imissed the orange blossoms by a week.
In Phoenix, the sweet, tropical smell of citrus trees permeates the air, signaling spring...always my favorite time of the year. For so long, the orange blossoms represented the approaching summer escapes to Mission Beach and freedom from AP cramming. Though our ridiculously early break afforded me no time to languor in the idyllic "Hawaiian Tropic" atmosphere of home, I have been entirely impressed by our own seasonal change, effective this week.
Of course, a massive iceberg still occupies the Barracks parking lot and I constantly am reminded that Charlottesville weather is as fickle as a frat boy. Still, my North Face has been out of commission, the fans in my room now are turned to the "two bar" notch and tonight, as we walked down Chancellor, my friends and I jealousy inhaled the wafting cedar smoke from a real, live barbecue. (Not orange blossoms, but I'll take it).
If this past week is any indication, the sun-kissed faces, lack of exterior garments and general happiness of the U.Va. population is here to stay...even if ice and snow reappear again before Foxfield.
Honestly, I have never seen such a transformation. It's not just the transition from NB 881s to Rainbows, black Patagonias to salmon pink Polos. It's not the long lines at Arch's or the even longer lines at the tanning salon (note to you sun virgins -- do not try to "maintain your color," which is really a bad burn, with a fake-bake unless you actually are tan to begin with...think Diet Coke, not V8). Even the presence of more outdoor runners than usual -- those fresh off the AFC treadmill -- is really not surprising. No, the feeling around here is different -- fun, friendly and just plain energetic -- people are emerging from their cold shells of winter hibernation.
At home, where the chance of sun is as probable as Duke winning the ACC title, peoples' winter moods are offset by other factors -- the multitude of snow escapees and their awful South Dakota driving skills, for example, or inflated green fees at the golf course. But as soon as the tourists clear out and the temperatures reach triple digits, our tempers worsen and summer hibernation occurs. Therefore, in a two-season climate, Arizonans spend about nine months of the year eternally annoyed and/or uncomfortable. We are unhappy when we cannot open our sunroof, and we complain when we can.
I am realizing that Virginia is much more cyclical, and its students are much less spoiled. Sure, midterms and exams present a certain overcast, and multiple snow storms get old very fast. But as a general rule, the U.Va. population is notable for being able to handle anything. We have our bad days, but we rebound quickly.
Take the quad of Old Dorms as a perfect display of the return of good times. Sixty degrees is prime time for the adorable first-year boys to rekindle their youth with a game of "Four-Square" (warning: "Sports Camp" has returned). Late-night phone calls, which we all know I am inclined to make, are conducted by shadowy figures lounging on now-dry benches, unaware that their conversations are being heard by the residents of the now-open windows above. And social lives; what an improvement! In the short trek between Ruffner Bridge and the mail room, I encounter half of my pledge class, and about every other random person I have not seen since before Christmas. It's like all my conversations begin with, "Where have you been?" After months of bitter cold, life is straight out of the opening scenes of "Clueless" -- it's totally unreal.
This extra time outside and overall desire to do, well, nothing, however, could have serious implications on the long haul to finals. It seems as if the Prozac sunlight has inoculated me from my winter woes, yet infected me with serious school ADD. Clemons is hell on earth, I am regretting my spring schedule of Tuesday and Thursday marathons (BIG mistake) and even printing readings off Toolkit is a particularly tedious task. I live only for Thursday nights and long Saturday afternoons. Before I know it, exams will arrive and find me ravaged by the disease of procrastination.
One might think, because of my sunny background, that I know all the tricks to controlling springtime distraction. But, as I explained before, I have no experience with bipolar weather -- at home it's always warm outside, and therefore I am completely inept when it comes to this tension between burrowing in a cubicle with a history paper and taking full advantage of viewing the frat games season in Mad Bowl. I am just as conflicted as you, and while the guilt of neglecting work used to bother me in high school, unfortunately now it does not. I can offer plenty of advice on the merits of Rainbows over Reefs or Banana Boat over Coppertone, but I need serious pointers on how to emerge from winter gracefully.
And having just walked across the picnic-like quad, I would like to announce that I witnessed a group of loungers blowing bubbles with those little wands (a la preschool playtime). Spring Fever is a very real epidemic, but please stop me before I begin forsaking my GPA for the toy aisle at Teeter.
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