Peter Gabbani is an English juniorSend comments to: daletter@mail.sdsu.edu

I have become nostalgic for the utopian world of my oldimagination.

In an effort to affix external blame for the dwindling fertilityof my creativity, I have come to the conclusion that the weather hasbeen the cause of my lost muse.

I wake up in the morning and am assaulted by the heart of a highpressure system — a blue sky. Instead of being delighted, I foundmyself annoyed by its dulling effect. The doldrums were now in myhead.

The still, blue sky is a vampire towards any inclination to mentalactivity.

How do I mean? Well, for the same reason acquaintances feel theneed to address trite observations about the weather — “Is it hotenough for ya?”– I need an uncontrollable, external factor toovercome before I turn to handling personal activities.

I recall certain advice from my sports-playing days. On days when itis especially cold, one should do extra stretching before the game sohe or she won’t pull a muscle. You must sufficiently ready yourselfbefore an activity.

On warm days, the athlete can be lulled into lax preparation aswell as early fatigue because of the heat. On cold days, one alsoruns harder to stave off the temperature’s deleterious effect. Coldpromotes activity like involuntary shaking. Heat does the opposite,like giving you a stroke.

Waking up to rain allows me to use the motivation of doingsomething ,in spite of the weather.

Take school, for example. If I had to brave a storm to make it toclass, I would try that much harder in the classroom.

Some may see a storm as an excuse to stay home and a blue sky aslending itself to unlimited activities. Not me. A perpetually bluesky is a procrastinator’s best friend. “Tomorrow’s just as good. I’llput it off.”

So, unlike some people who feel the need to take advantage of atranquil day when it appears in between storms, others have beenconditioned to see the blue sky as nothing special and expected.

Despite some parts of the country that were ripped by hurricanes,I heard some people complain because it’s 82 degrees instead of 78.That says a lot.

As far as seasonal benefits, winter is no wicked guest. The mostbeautiful sunsets are the result of the most fantastic, crazy weatherin the same way that character is revealed and personal growth isspawned by strife.

Think of the sudden jolt and involuntary shiver caused by a blastof lightning and the ensuing thunder. It reaffirms the potency of thesenses. I unexpectedly become aware of every forgotten arm hair. Ireturn to childhood awe as my breath swirls and tangles before myeyes. And as my senses are rejuvenated, my mind too is kept fresh theway a refrigerator keeps celery crispy.

Leave celery out in the sun and it shrivels. Likewise, the mindwill wilt in the absence of occasionally harsh weather. The raingraciously leaves a puddle, then the jealous sun steals it for itsown. That same evaporation process is not alien to my imagination.

A consistently blue sky is not unlike the defeating psychologicalproperties of a jail cell. The absence of change, of a varying,natural adversary, beats one down into an anesthetizing inertia. DareI remind you of the Elois?

The problem with a never-changing, clear sky is that people don’trecognize they’re being conditioned, because it seems so pleasing.People are willing to accept it without knowing what’s actually goingon.

That’s what happened to me. In hindsight, I see my summer as awaste. I was out playing golf one day, tennis the next, and soon Irealized I hadn’t picked up a pen or opened a book in weeks.

So what if I can crush my tee-shot when my novel remains scribbledin four, crusty notebooks.

I am the son and heir and the sun and air. (I wanted to get thatin.)

This column is the opinion of the columnist and not The DailyAztec.