Autumn turns to winter,
And winter turns to spring.
It doesn’t go just for seasons you know,
It goes for everything.
Oh, wise Brady kids, avatars of the cosmos, you summed up the three years of my latest degree so poetically. Autumn turns to winter, turns to spring, turns to summer, turns to late summer, turns to autumn. This is the cycle of creation, the circle of all life, and life is movement. When it’s time to change, it’s time to rearrange—and oh, my little turnips, oh, how I have changed, how I have rearranged.
I chose as my default browser Google Chrome.
Safari, dear Safari, you crashed one too many times. You eliminated the features I cherished. You became ordinary. Once, you were the backbone of my existence, and I love you dearly, but the time has come for tough love and tough choices. Winter is coming. Mayans are in the air, apocalyptic and apoplectic. Whereas I must be nimble to cope with these dangers and the uncertainties that lie beyond them, you held me back. You weighed me down. You wandered off the path.
And so, for now, we part ways. It is better that spend some time apart, a few weeks, a few months. The autumn air will crisp into the bitter winter’s cold of your absence. Separately, we will fight for survival. We will grow tougher. We will struggle to adapt and adapt to struggle. And at night, those desolate nights as the trains howl in the forlorn distance, we will look out into the dark void, dimly lit by the cold pinpricks of Orion the Hunter, and we will think of each other, and we will take strength from our time together, and we will dream of spring.
Support for this blog was provided by the Chupacabra Foundation, creating a better world through sucking one goat at a time.