It's funny how something that may seem so minor can have such a huge impact on one's day. I am of course referring to the sun. With it's absence for the majority of winter in Seattle, seasonal depression has already hit me (hence a few guilt-laden trips to the cancer coffin tanning bed in the past couple of weeks, the Mecca for twenty-something leather-skinned women). This morning I was practically falling asleep in lecture (which, to my credit, is in a well-heated dimly lit basement), and feeling pretty irritated that I was going to have to walk home in the rain. Upon my emergence from the depths of the Art Building, to my complete delight beams of sunshine radiated on my face and enclosed my entire body in them. The only way I can describe the feeling is that scene from Paris, Je T'Aime where the mimes are seeing their son off to school. Looking at him with sad expressions, they raise their hands slowly up and over their faces, palms inward, revealing a bottom to top transformation of sour looks into beaming smiles. As I write this, I am sitting out on what my housemates and I call "the back patch". It is a lovely little grassy fenced in area behind our house with a small patio, a haven enclosing us away from the uncertainties of bizarre neighbors and a fraternity trash-laden alleyway. The sun is thawing me mentally and emotionally, and I can't help but feel blessed to have started off this week with what so far has been a delightful Monday.
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