Daylight Savings Time drives me into a borderline suicidal apathy for most of the year. Halloween is the perfect prelude to 6 months of stormy irritability for me, during that miserable span of the year when I wake up in darkness, travel home in darkness, and suffer through my miserable hell of 9-to-5 drudgery bathed in a buzzing, artificial flourescent light.
I am an American who lives his life an hour off for the majority of the year, and I will tell you that it pretty much harms everything, from my point of view. But I just sit here and take it.
You see, that's the thing about the apathy this institutionalized circadian chaos and lack of sunlight induces. It immerses you into a hell you can't be bothered to alleviate yourself from. And when you grow up in public schools which heap layer, upon layer of pointlessness atop your life, this is just one more thing, and at some point you just stop caring and capitulate to the stupidity of TV dinners, 2 liter bottles of soda, and mindless sitcoms that you hate but can't stop watching.
It's a sort of perpetual, depressive cabin fever, where there are never any trees or animals or sky. You're ferried back and forth to your stations in life by automobiles, buses, or underground trains, wondering what happened to the timeless but fleeting enthusiasm of summer, and you stare out the window all day, but you'll never feel enough sunlight and wind on your face at the same time during the winter. In my gut there has always been an undeniable sensation that there's something wrong with that. These compulsory, artificial extremes.
I envy you and your life which is so insulated from this annual exercise in negation.
I am an American who lives his life an hour off for the majority of the year, and I will tell you that it pretty much harms everything, from my point of view. But I just sit here and take it.
You see, that's the thing about the apathy this institutionalized circadian chaos and lack of sunlight induces. It immerses you into a hell you can't be bothered to alleviate yourself from. And when you grow up in public schools which heap layer, upon layer of pointlessness atop your life, this is just one more thing, and at some point you just stop caring and capitulate to the stupidity of TV dinners, 2 liter bottles of soda, and mindless sitcoms that you hate but can't stop watching.
It's a sort of perpetual, depressive cabin fever, where there are never any trees or animals or sky. You're ferried back and forth to your stations in life by automobiles, buses, or underground trains, wondering what happened to the timeless but fleeting enthusiasm of summer, and you stare out the window all day, but you'll never feel enough sunlight and wind on your face at the same time during the winter. In my gut there has always been an undeniable sensation that there's something wrong with that. These compulsory, artificial extremes.
I envy you and your life which is so insulated from this annual exercise in negation.