There is nothing on this earth that will make a normally egotistical human being feel more in touch with the rest of the animal kingdom than to feel the wrath of an unpleasant weather pattern. Cry Global Warming if you must, but when it all boils down, we are just another species of fragile creatures living on a pulsing moving rock ready to bring mayhem upon our heads at any given moment. Our cross to bear is our self-awareness in the face of this inevitable outcome and our complete lack of control to do a damn thing about it.

Oh, but we try. There are entire fields of science dedicated to predicting when the Tera monster will release its planetary bodily functions, but even the most dedicated scientists working in these fields will tell you it’s more art than science. If it were truly otherwise, we wouldn’t be taken by surprise with tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes, blizzards, ice storms, forest fires, and so on.

Actually I would say most of the time, weather in any particular area is basically predictable, and that’s the problem. We become complacent in what we consider normal, so when it’s not, we are upset. “How could this happen?” we cry in outrage. “I had plans today.”

The jet stream doesn’t give a rat’s ass about our plans. The shifting tectonic plates aren’t keeping track of our social calendars. The ever circulating “ninos” and “ninas” that take turns rotating the planet and messing up our “average weather patterns” are completely indifferent to our carefully orchestrated lives. They just are.

And that’s OK. Life is a never going to be one hundred percent predictable. We are not omnipotent. However, we are resilient. We stubbornly turn up our collars and take what comes, even if we choose to bitch about it the whole time.

This little gripe is brought to you by the record breaking snow totals we got in the Upper Midwest today. It’s May. Really, I’m not lying. Look at your calendar. Just don’t look out your window. Gripe.

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