Blah blah February

I try not to let this shitty time of year get me down. Every day, as I trudge through the bland, cold, dead streets of this city, I try to focus on whatever positives I can find. This past week, though, it's been difficult.

My boyfriend left the country, the heat went off in our apartment, and, for the first time, the novelty of work showed signs of fading. All three are more disheartening than actually depressing, small little irritants that come and go in waves.

Then I found some terrible news about a wonderful artist I'd met and interviewed earlier this year. Awaiting a liver transplant, he was painting a self-portrait every day until he got the magic phone call. Earlier this week, his body gave out, and he passed away. Please, if you have the time, check out his work.

So if my posts have been a little morose lately, please chalk it up to the February blahs.

(I must amend this entry to add that I had a delightful dinner on Wednesday night, a definite high point in the past week. My amazing roommates and I gossipped, laughed and waxed philosophical over a bottle of cheap cab sauv and delicious Winterlicious grub at the Pony Bistro. Just what I needed).