long-distance relationship

best friends makin' it work

warm thoughts

When the weather outside is brutally cold it is rather difficult to think about anything other than the fact that ten minutes ago I couldn’t feel my face.  Even now lying in the warmth of my bed, I have yet to recover from the Rudolph Red Nose syndrome that accompanies such frigid temperatures.  As the number one topic on my mind, I have, over the course of the day, voiced several complaints that in some form or other communicate the sentiment “Fuck, it’s cold.”  And for some reason, the number one response to my frosty frustration was “Wait, Rohini, aren’t you from Colorado?”  Yes, I am.  What the hell does that have to do with anything?

After four years of attending school in Providence (and Yang attending school in New York) I’ve come to realize that East Coasters have little to no clue about what Colorado is like.  We are not all the skiing mountain men who eat trail mix and beef jerky while singing Kumbaya by the campfire.  Well, okay, Yang does love her beef jerky, and I enjoy the occasional bowl of trail mix, but the rest of it, hell no.  And contrary to popular belief, this Colorado “cold” has not transformed our normal human skin into blubber.  My fellow Coloradans, I sincerely hope you never have to suffer the same annoying presumptions we have had to endure.  But if ever approached with the “Aren’t you from Colorado?” tude, no need to worry.  You can steal from some of the comeback responses I’ve had to use.

– It’s ten degrees below zero.  The only Coloradan who doesn’t mind this temperature is the resident polar bear at the Denver Zoo.  And I’m pretty sure he’s from the Arctic.

– Fuck you.  Can I have my gloves back?

– We get 300 days of sunshine every year.  The other 60, I wear a coat.

– I’m Indian…and I’m not homeless.

– You’re from California.  Why are you sweating?

– Last I checked we still have heaters in our cars and homes.  Oh, and other than my standard weekly snowshoeing escapade, I don’t WALK OUTSIDE in the WINTER.

– See that flame in the middle of the Kumbaya-singing group?  It’s a fire.

– No verbal response.  Shove ignorant comment maker into a mound of snow and run for it (physical exercise will warm your body right up).

Please feel free to use some or all of these responses (My personal favorite is the last one.  Bonus points if you make that happen).  It’s time for us to set the world straight.  When I say I have cold feet, it’s not because the thick-skinned Coloradan is hesitating on the decision-making front.  My fucking feet are cold.

My nose is slightly less rouge now than when I began to write this post.  I can therefore shift my complaining to more important subjects (i.e. my thesis, school, the rundown state of our apartment, money, the geographical distance between myself and Yang, and Camilla Parker Bowles).



  teesa wrote @

#4 and #7 are my favorites :) stay warm my dears.

  kaile wrote @

yeah coldest i’ve ever been in my life is in boston. no one out east knows anything about colorado. i convinced some people at brown i cross country ski to work in august. and i’m a pretty stereotypical coloradoan (skiing, hiiking, rafting, biking, microbrews, skiiiiiinggg, live in the mountains, etc.)

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