Cats are always curious in the snow. As they sniff, the touch of their noses melt the snowflakes, and their tongues come out to lick away the moisture. They cautiously walk into it and inspect their paws, wondering how they suddenly became wet.

As for me, I’m comfortable at home with a warm drink and the glow of my monitors. The week has me burned out nowadays, and the weekends have become the only time for me to relax, the only time I can enjoy the sunlight during the shortened winter days. You can always recognize a winter sky by its paleness, causing particularly bright days and orange nights.

Christmas will be here soon. Vacation and trips home and family and the spirit of the season. Fall has come and gone. How does the time pass so quickly? Did I imagine I’d be here, at this stage in life, a year ago? Not at all.

I never realized how much I missed the winter, until the snow started falling.

Last week I was so sick that it felt like my brain was slowly leaking out of my head through my nose. I’ve had a jar of lingzhi, or powdered reishi mushroom, sitting on my kitchen counter for months, but I never felt like I was sick enough to have any until then. After one glass of “tea” and a night of decent sleep, I felt better than after anything else I tried. My sinuses cleared, my nose dried up, the headache at the back of my neck went away, and the only thing left was the scratchiness in my throat.

I’d heard of lingzhi before, as my dad started drinking it daily a few years ago, but never really understood, or believed, it’s magical properties until now. As a child growing up in a Chinese family, it’s not uncommon to be exposed to all sorts of esoteric appendages and vegetation, but nothing was as revered as the reishi mushroom, not even ginseng. It turns out that it has a history as the oldest mushroom to be used in medicine over 4000 years ago, and peasants were once executed for consuming such a valuable resource as it was reserved exclusively for the emperor and his family.

As described in Wikipedia:

Lingzhi is anti-tumor, immunomodulating and immunotherapeutic. It is also adaptogenic, anti-allergin and anti-hypertensive due to the presence of triterpenes. Apart from these properties, lingzhi has also been found to be anti-inflammatory, anti-viral, anti-parasitic, anti-fungal, anti-diabetic, anti-hypotensive, and hepatoprotective. It has also been found to inhibit platelet aggregations, and to lower blood pressure, cholesterol and blood sugar.

It makes me quite proud to have such a significant substance as a part of my cultural history, a little secret known only to those lucky enough. Perhaps I may feel the same way about tiger penises some day.

The only downside is the taste. I’m sure it’s nothing like eating cockroaches on Fear Factor, but it’s definitely a play on the palate that takes a bit of getting used to. The smell reminds me of the musty scent of old, dried, golden coloured lumber, that’s crumbly and falling apart. This comes as no surprise, as it only grows on the trunks of dead trees. Even though it comes in (clumpy) powder form, it doesn’t exactly dissolve in water. At all. The picture of the mug is after a good stir and five minutes of settling. For some reason, half of it sinks and half of it floats. I tried to describe it to John, and the best I could come up with is that somehow it’s an entire glass of dregs.

Aaron and Karen adopted another cat, and named her Lacey. She’s a tiny thing, with downy white hair and ears like satellite dishes. So far she’s a bit shy, as Chaos follows her around often, but I think she’ll get used to it.

Until Lacey came along, I would have never suspected how much the cats look like their owners, but the resemblance, as difficult as it was to put my finger on at first, is striking. Chaos is the nearly overweight cat who sometimes has a goofy look on his face like he’s saying “WHATSGOINGONOVERHEREGUYS??”, and Lacey is much smaller with big ears and delicate features.

I called in sick again today, but this time I didn’t go in.

In Psych 101, you learn that a group of students are sprayed in the face with the cold bacteria during their exams, while a control group is sprayed during the regular school year. The result is that the students going through their finals are more than twice as likely to get sick. Stress lowers the immune system, and the lesson here is that there’s a direct connection between the health of the mind and the body.

Knowing this isn’t enough to prevent it. Sometimes it all adds up, and you get worn down.

Little surprises come in the form of friends offering to pick things up from the pharmacy, people I’ve never even spoken to asking if I’m okay, or care packages from ex-girlfriends, consisting of chocolate bars, vitamin C drops, African peanut soup, a DVD of BMW shorts, and even a get-well-soon card.

It’s been more than two years since Thrice has released a new album, until Vheissu, just five days ago. I’m still exploring the tracks, approaching each song with an open mind, but never dissecting too much through analysis. Due to the uncertaintiy of what to expect, listening to something for the first time is always a little different.

It can be easily observed that they’ve grown through all of their full-length albums. It’s difficult to listen to Identity Crisis (2000), because of how rough and undeveloped it is. The Illusion of Safety (2002) was much improved, introducing a unique, experimental style, though heavily influenced by punk and metalcore. The Artist In The Ambulance (2003) took things a step further, achieving tracks that were both esthetic and intelligent.

Ever since I stopped smoking weed on a daily basis, of which a great deal of time was spent listening to music, I’ve been enervated by the fact that songs would never sound as good, until this album.

Vheissu has renewed my hope. Saved my life.

It goes beyond everything else to a completely spiritual experience, from the album artwork to the chords and the key signatures. Thrice has reached out with music that is haunting, moving, emotional, trying things that they’ve never tried before. Dustin Kensrue sings more than he screams, even goes falsetto(!), only occassionally calling on his hardcore roots. Electronic sounds, piano, acoustic guitar have been worked into the tracks themselves, instead of being relegated to the introductions. The mixed meters are less obtrusive, but still interesting enough for prog-rock fans. Even with all of this, they continue to defy genres, as they’ve done in their previous albums. It all works.

Thrice is coming to town, and the concert is just six days away.

I was only introduced to Thrice in the last two years, but I’ve been through a lot with them. Different apartments, roommates, girlfriends, breakups. Even the lyrics speak to me, lifting, moving, never crashing. I only ask one thing.

Gimme a girl who loves Thrice.

The Thrice = Love Series

1. Introduction
2. The Journey
3. As The Crucible
4. Rock It
5. The Rush
6. Far From The End