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march effect
Happy St-Patrick's Day! Also, happy feast day of St-Isidore, patron saint of the internet. I made brownies. If you are nice, I will share.
March is my absolute least favourite month of all time. Every year, in March, I tell myself that next year I will leave, and spend Winter elsewhere. Then, suddenly, before I even notice or have time to make plans to move to Costa Rica, it is March again and I am still here and I hate the world. Winter continues to drag on and on when it is supposed to be Spring and the sky is just perpetually grey. It is freezing cold today, but I am reluctant to drag out my winter coat again, which I put away last week, when it was above freezing. I will surely get sick next week.
Everyone at work is tired and unmotivated and so am I. You can see it in their eyes, vaguely glazed over, and the slump of their shoulders, and the general dishevelment in their appearance. You can tell just by looking that they are beyond caring at this point. And they readily admit to it, since they see all the same signs in me and want to commiserate. Commiserating is sometimes the best you can do. All the meaningful work has been done and there is only drudgery left. I am simply passing the time, waiting for the renewed energy that comes when the weather warms up and the sun is still shining when I leave the office. In the meantime I am just ignoring everything on my to-do lists and moping around.
This guy I hate, who used to stalk one of my best friends after she accidentally made out with him at a party one time, told me disdainfully that seasonal affective disorder is psychosomatic; but I don't care or believe him. First of all because he is an asshole, but mostly because, so what? Even if it is psychosomatic, that doesn't change the fact that I am depressed. It is like some kind of reverse placebo effect. No one can explain the placebo effect, but it has been scientifically proven to work. I am sure if someone scientific bothered to study it, they would find that there is a March effect.
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"The mind of the thoroughly well informed [person] is a dreadful thing. It is like a bric-a-brac shop, all monsters and dust, and everything priced above its proper value."
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