Oh the weather outside...

Well, it's that time of year again. Yes, folks, it's time for the yearly update on my battle with Seasonal Affective Disorder. That's right! SAD.

It should be noted that this is a self-diagnosis made by, well, me. I consider myself a qualified psychologist, having spent years reading advice columns in magazines and newspapers, studying literary criticism, and watching a fair amount of Dr. Phil and Oprah. And, as such, I feel able to diagnose myself as suffering from SAD.

My battle with SAD started last year during my first winter in the Midwest. It was a time that found me questioning the reason for total darkness at 4:30pm, cursing like a sailor at the cruel Illinois wind, and spending an inordinate number of hours conducting on-line research in an effort to cure my illness.

On-line research proved only moderately helpful because SAD is an actual problem, requiring the ability to gain access to equipment that only real-live doctors or tanning bed operators can get, as the first cure I found was light therapy. Not having any source of light therapy myself and not wanting to risk skin cancer (or becoming the owner of a lot of creepy coconut-smelling tan booster) by heading to the tanning salon, I decided my best bet would be the grocery store. It's light; it's bright; it's full of cheesy music from the 80s that really speaks to my SAD-afflicted soul. So, I tried that out. It seemed to work pretty well, though I ended up spending a lot of time at the local grocery in the middle of the night.

I also ended up heading to the local Wal-Mart looking for light. This just ended with me contemplating the use of synthetic fabrics in the lingerie department but also thinking that sparkles could be a sexy addition to any girl's trousseau, a pretty good indicator that I was heading in a downward spiral the end of which was nowhere in sight.

In truth, I sort of lied about this being the first cure I spotted. There was one before that, but I almost needed a therapist to get over the trauma induced upon reading about it. The cure was found on some family-friendly site. They suggested playing board games. Those who know me well understand the trauma. Those who don't should keep my wine glass perpetually filled at a party and then, after a few hours, ask how it was to be an only child. Specifically, reference Pictionary.

So, anyways, I know this all may sound silly, but I really do hate this time of year in the Midwest, and I find it almost impossible to be cheery when it's so grey outside. Usually, I just want to shuffle around my apartment in my jammies, wishing I was somewhere warm with blue skies.

On the up-side, I just have a few more years of this. And, like my mom said, "Just imagine how bad it would be if you lived somewhere really cold. Like Alaska."

Sleeping

Sometimes I think sleep is the greatest thing ever.

I mean, as long as I'm not listening to my nightmare-inducing mix.

Then I'd rather just be shopping for shoes. :)

Not a Mix-Master

So, a few months ago, I decided to make a little mix of songs that would be good to listen to when I went to sleep. I occasionally have great trouble falling asleep, so I thought it would be worth a shot. And, perhaps this could be a natural way to fall asleep that would even trump those oh-so-nice pills I picked up in Paris awhile ago. [Editor's note: Said pills are totally legal and available over the counter, so I'm not getting too crazy even with those!]

French Pharms aside, the mix seemed a fabulous idea, so I set about putting together some songs that I thought would be nice and mellow. In truth, I'm pretty bad at remembering song titles, so much of the mix is comprised of songs that I somehow remembered to be slow and mellow.

Perhaps my terrible memory was at fault. I'll blame it on that. Because, on playing the mix, I had nightmares. EVERY NIGHT!

That's right. Terrible, horrible nightmares that I don't even really want to talk about, truth be told.

So, I'm not good at making mixes. I will never make you a mix, no matter how much I like you...maybe if I really dislike you though...

Oh, Thanksgiving!

Okay, this is where I admit that I love Thanksgiving. I know, I know. It's not at all right to like T-day anymore. But, I do.

And, here is why. I just like the very idea of being thankful. Of taking one day and being glad about the good things in life and being kind to your family and all of that stuff.

I guess my love of Thanksgiving is that I don't really associate it with anything. I don't feel overly patriotic or thankful for my country or any of that. It's not that I'm opposed to that; I just don't do it. I just feel glad to have my family around and to be able to see them and to, hopefully, manage to cook something that turns out. (fingers crossed, people! this year, it's a cheeseball--very retro and not at all something that goes in the oven. i imagine good things will come of this!)

So, I like Thanksgiving. I like the mad crush at the grocery store, and I like to see shopping carts full of earth-tone and orange foods that we normally never eat. And I like that everyone looks a little crazy at this time of year.

In the words of the icon of domesticity, it's a good thing!

Domesticity: The Brownie Debacle

So, the other night, spurred on by some odd domestic zeal, I decided to make brownies. I found a recipe in this month's Jane magazine and went for it. A short trip to the grocery store and I was making what looked like some really tasty brownies.

Only, they were not really tasty brownies. They were dry and tough and not at all sweet enough. In short, not tasty.

And the crazy thing is, I'm really good at making brownies. I'll admit that I'm not much of a cook in general. I do well to heat up soup. But baking is a different story. I can bake. Only, now it looks like I can't.

Oh well, I'm going to give this baking thing another shot, if only to save face!

Myspace as Personal Ad

Two things I find hilarious: (1) Myspace and (2) Personal Ads.

I find these funny for the same reason--people are terrible at describing themselves. Just think how difficult it can be to write something like a resume. Now imagine doing that in a much more casual atmosphere, but one in which you're expected to convey humor or make someone think you're the love of his/her life.

Anyways, what i find even more humorous is the use of Myspace as personal ad. It happens, really. And it's rarely good. But it's often funny.

I guess I find this funny because it makes me uncomfortable, as it's something I would never do. Maybe because I spend most of my time at home writing and stressing over coursework and, apparently, surfing Myspace for humorous profiles.

So, look for this odd use of Myspace. You may find it funny as well.