I was walking to the Skytrain yesterday and pondering why I have been feeling so blue lately and then it occurred to me: It's February,
The Month of Misery.
Since my first year at college I have suffered through Februaries. Wherever I am in the world, be it the depths of gray wintery doldrums or the creeping oppression of tropical heat, during February I find myself held captive in a constant state of PMS, a month-long funk that will only disappear when the Ides are in sight. I'm not sure the cause of this state, though I have many hypotheses --none of which really feels suitable:
*February is No Man's Land Month--it's after the excitement of the holidays and long before another vacation period. Simply put, there's no light at the end of the tunnel.
*Our primordial selves believe we should be in some state of hibernation during this time, just as our cavemen forefathers did. That means we should be leading low-impact lives; reading, sleeping, watching movies, and hunkering down under comforters next to fires. But not eating rancid meat. We have evolved.
*Following the start of the new year, we feel the pressure to keep the slate clean and stay committed to resolutions made. After a month of trying to accomplish the lofty goals set, disappointment, frustration, resignation, or some combination sets in.
So, after years of trying to understand and crawl out this February hole, I have resigned myself to just being patient, surfing the waves of frequent mood changes, and waiting it out. March will come soon enough.
In the meantime, little things like this make me smile:
Home by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
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