I think I can't drink alcohol any more. It really does act as a depressant on me. Not always immediately, but definitely in the aftermath.

Stark raving sadness and lassitude overtook me this evening. I really hate Standard Time. I remember last year, the fact that the sun set so damn early really messed me up. By December, I was approaching catatonia.

I really think that the fact that my ancestors were adapted to tropical regions where the duration of daylight did not vary much by time of year makes me unable to properly handle the seasons. Mind you, it really is the dearth of sunlight that messes me up, more than the temperature. I think I might be able to handle, for example, Antarctica during "summer," although, I suppose, I wouldn't be getting much sunlight being holed up in the base.

Eventually, I gave up and lay down on the sofa, in the darkness, and mulled over where I went wrong in life, pondering all the various dilemmas that I can't solve and all my assorted fears that I can't face. I spoke with M briefly, and since I didn't want to tell her about how I was feeling (no, not what you think! I just didn't want to burden her with my depressive episode) I think she got bored and excused herself.

I decided to really give up and go upstairs to my room. I took out my contacts, then brushed my teeth, then prepared myself for spending a sleepless night staring at the ceiling. Luckily, my sister started playing Norah Jones' CD in her room, Norah's sweet, rich voice (OK, I don't mean for it to sound like chocolate) wafting through the walls.

It never fails to surprise me how music can utterly change my mood. Before I sunk into deep despair, I had been downloading the random pictures I had taken during the month while I was in the Bay Area from my camera, and I was listening to the Gabriel and Dresden remix of "Clocks" by Coldplay. (Like I've said, I'm obsessed with that song.) Now, I've attached memories from mid-June (when my sister graduated) to this particular remix of this song, and I guess thinking about the summer cheered me up a little bit. It definitely made my recent memories somewhat bittersweet. (Again, if I could only bottle up those times when I was happy.)

It really feels like autumn now. Summer lasted abnormally long, and then ended abruptly. I think my mind is reeling, refusing to accept that, even here in Southern California, it's a little chilly.

"Shoot the Moon" by Norah Jones really got to me as I moped in my room, trying to get some sleep. I definitely have memories attached to that song, all the way back to April, and long, fretful afternoons spent on the balcony, chain-smoking and listening to some music.

shoot the moon

by norah jones

The summer days are gone too soon You shoot the moon And miss completely And now you're left to face the gloom The empty room that once smelled sweetly Of all the flowers you plucked if only You knew the reason Why you had to each be lonely Was it just the season?

Now the fall is here again You can't begin to give in It's all over

When the snows come rolling through You're rolling too with some new lover Will you think of times you've told me That you knew the reason Why we had to each be lonely It was just the season

I am in the same room that, 11 years ago, I think I first truly tasted inspiration, in the chill air of autumn twilight. The night crept in from the windows, but I, for once, did not fear, did not worry about the waning sunlight. I could write, and sing, and shout for joy. There. I remember being happy.

Nothing cures my blues like succumbing to my nerdiness, and coding. Nothing fancy, just tweaking a few Perl scripts, and trying to build Mozilla from source on my iBook. But, I guess, at my keyboard is the only time I feel in control, one of the only times I don't have to care about the outside world. I am just a hardcore introvert, I suppose.

Oh, I want to end this on a happy note. But it never lasts. I don't think happiness is meant to last. But the corollary that I keep forgetting is that, just because happiness doesn't last, doesn't mean that you can never be happy again. Everytime you fall on your ass, you can always pick yourself up. Whether it is spring or fall, I suppose, this too shall pass.

If only I could listen to my own advice.