There’s a lot of great reasons why we need to take action to halt the climate crisis—rising sea levels, endangered species, the growing number of climate refugees, the increasing prevalence and strength of extreme weather events—all of which people far smarter than me have proved and argued at great length. I see no point in continuing to beat a dead horse whilst surrounded by those who insist, inexplicably, that the horse still lives, so instead something well-supported and articulate, I’m going to say this: the weather is really starting to get on my freaking nerves.

Climate change is always talked about as some distant, looming shadow—in 2050, civilization as we know it disappears, sea levels swallow up the coasts, etcetera etcetera—mostly because we’ve been talking about it since the 70s. But it’s 2025, and the bill is finally coming due. We’ve blown past the 1.5 degrees Celsius global temperature increase line set by the Paris Accords, and we’re on course to coast straight past 2. They’ve had to make new colors on heat projections maps because Australia is finally completing its destined evolution into Real Biblical Hell.

But even I, terribly aware of all the disturbingly present facts of climate change, didn’t fully process just how much it would affect my everyday life—or how much it would irritate the living daylights out of me. I wish I were joking. I would be a happier, if less motivated, person if I were.

I genuinely despise the current weather patterns. I find their erratic nature grating, and it diminishes my enjoyment of both the high and the low temperatures when I know that in another day or two, it will fully swap once more. I have gone outside, felt a balmy warmth of 42 degrees, and started yelling up at the heavens as the sole outlet of my immense discontent. Even now, merely contemplating the issue, I find myself at a loss for words thanks to my all-consuming, ever-choking fury at the state of the weather.

Some may consider this dramatics, or an overreaction. To that, I reply: a fundamental part of our world—the very seasons themselves—have begun to erode. Winter is not three months of cold, but three months of seesawing between balmy and cold, but not as cold as it used to be. That’s not an exaggeration, either—in recent years, Wisconsin has experienced record-breaking warmth, as well as new and exciting weather patterns such as the first February tornado ever recorded in the state. 

And the worst part is, I know it’s only going to get worse from here. I’m genuinely scared to see what temperatures we reach this summer, both in Wisconsin and across the globe. This is going to change everything, from migration patterns to snow day predictions to whether or not any of us will be able to safely go outdoors in the summer. Sure, one could argue that considering the nature of the climate crisis and the steps needed to combat it, our lives were always going to be drastically altered. But personally, I’d much rather be the one choosing what to change and why. I’d rather be acting to stop something than reacting against—oh, what’s this? The third freak tornado?

We do still have a choice to make, is the thing. No matter what anyone tells you, we can always start doing something to make the climate crisis a little less horrible. We can pull back from fossil fuels, cut back on gas—all of it is wholly possible. We have the technology, we know how to assemble the infrastructure, and the only thing standing in our way is a wall of bribes built by oil companies. If we can get around that, if we can get actual legislation passed, we can make it through this.

Yeah, it would’ve been better if we stopped five years ago. It would’ve been better if we stopped in the 70s, when we first figured out this was going to happen. But it’s not the 70s. It’s 2025, and the weather is getting worse. It’s 2025, and the choice is still there, waiting to be made. It’s 2025, and time is only going to keep passing. There will never be a better time than now to make change.

So ask yourself: what do you want 2026 to look like?