Someone is staring at you in Personal Growth: 4.1.10

Do you know the 7 habits of highly effective people? Nah, I don't either. I'm willing to bet, though, that I am running on a serious shortage of all 7. I mean, I don't even know if they are simple things like what your mother used to tell you about getting enough shut-eye and eating breakfast, or if they're some intricate strategy, an 'Art of War' for the MBA set. No idea. But I do know that am not particularly effective.

Last Saturday, it was sunny, but still too chilly to be truly spring-legit. It didn't matter. I knew it was going to be a good day when I stressed myself awake at 6 a.m. After the fragile, pale little sunrise finally cracked into bright blue, I got going to the office. When I pulled into traffic, the first car I saw had this bumper sticker: 'The National Sarcastic Society. Yeah, like we need you to care.' Yeah, it was a good day.

I finally finished what I had been putting off for, oh, about three months. And driving back home, into Sunday morning, under the murky sheet of light pollution that evenly coats the skies the entire distance between dc and Baltimore, I felt huge relief but no sense of accomplishment. Still ineffective, in effect. (?)

But maybe it's impossible not to charge into spring with some renewed sense of vigorous vim? Maybe it just gets into you the same way the cold and the wet of winter felt like an injection of the dreaded blahs, a steady drip seeping all through you like some syrupy serum of pure sickly, treacly sweet sadness. Maybe you have to let the first bike ride in short sleeves soothe your wool weary skin. Maybe you want the first warm night to trick you a little bit, spring's first cocky grin that promises something you don't quite trust. Maybe it's alright to chance it on a little less sleep, a little more conversation, a few more blocks, and one more drink. Maybe you weren't right all along. Maybe you stand a few minutes longer to watch the lights across the harbor cut into the first lazy dusk you've had since summer. Maybe you ask what you really want to know and invite the answer in. Maybe you give a handshake, a hug, a smile, maybe you give way a little, finally not so sure again that you are sure at all. Maybe you just give in to spring because you have to.

Good old April. You always get here just in time.