I fail.

Man, I fail hard at updating this thing regularly. I got sick again, after getting better, and so lay in a bed of pain, yet again.

Not much new in my life other than an unhealthy obsession with the British show Skins. It is superbly entertaining; like the O.C if it had balls, was British, and didn't suck.

I am also a failure as a gardener, as my total gardening experience in the last month has been limited to poking at the dirt and muddy brown grass of my front lawn with the toe of my rain boots and then walking away to do something else.

It is nearly spring however, and so I can feel a certain kind of joy in the air that I wouldn't feel otherwise. There is still no grass, and no crocuses yet, so it's pretty dreary. But that fresh scent of spring is in the air; wet, cold, a hint of sweetness, and then, suddenly, a strong undercurrent of warmth. It sneaks up on you, and it suddenly creeped up on me today while I was walking between classes. I stopped and looked around, realizing that the sun was out, that there were seagulls. While the grass was still either covered with snow or a dirty brown colour, I could feel the green that would be coming up. It's the word for spring, anticipation. It's everywhere, this anticipation. School kids have a new jump in their step, having finally banished their heavy winter boots to the back of their closet, tired of being weighed down. Their feet move across the pavement in slight skips, jumps and messy splashes, finally unburdened of the weighty snow boots that had anchored them to the ground for the last 5 months. The business men and women who stream between Bloor Street, Avenue and Yonge all have their heads up now, like deer, taking tentative sniffs at the air. They can feel this anticipation as easily as they feel their pinstripe suits and the pinch of high heels. At school there is a lightness to the students, even as the pressure of exams, midterms and final essays starts to press down everywhere. Robarts is filled with heads bent punishingly close to textbooks, laptops, and notes, but every now and then a head will raise up and stare out the window, see the promise of spring, feel the anticipation and longing for it, and hear the word that is on everybody's lips: soon. Soon everything will be done, school wise. Everyone will be off to travel, work or just lazing around the house. Summer will pour in like a broken jar of honey, spilling across the cupboard and sticking to every surface. The sidewalk will bleach under the constant sun, and so will blonde heads. I can hardly wait for summer; I feel it in my bones. Every morning when I dress and look at my pale, soft body I can only hope that it will soon be replaced with the tan, lithe one that usually comes during the summer. Summer means patios, and the beach, and long afternoons spent on Anne's balcony reading in comfortable silence. Though I have to work all summer, and for long hours too, I still can say without hesitation that I enjoy the constant hard work more than going to school every day, dragging my body across campus.

Well I have class tomorrow morning, so I'm going to end this post here. I think the jist is there; Spring, Spring, Spring.

Yours,