I was in Michigan this last week and the snow blew sideways and the sky was solid white and it was cold enough that if you didn't wear three layers you would swear that you were going to die. Then, after being hurled through the air at insanely high speeds, I was in a backyard in shorts and a t-shirt realizing that our ash trees were already completely green.
Sometimes when I'm on social media, I forget about geography. I forget that people have less sunlight north of me and that people are shoveling snow all over the east coast. I forget how hard it is to keep going and keep working when the sunlight is still dying and you haven't seen a blue sky in days.
A few people asked me, "How do blog so much and write so often?" A part of it is geography. I wake up to blue skies ninety-five percent of the year. I never shovel anything more than some dirt (when I'm fixing sprinklers). Our dark, depressing months are the days when the high is only sixty five.
It has me thinking that if the neutral, spaceless space of social media is so deceptive about physical geography, it must be playing tricks with social and political geography as well. It has me wondering about what I'm missing in the implicit assumption that someone far, far away is in the same room as me.