Published on 12, July, 2020
Anyone else have this?
Where most look forward to ever more daylight, it's around now that I start to miss in advance the clear delineation between day and night. That first evening leaving work and it's still daylight depresses me profoundly in a way I can't quite explain. The aggressive insistence of Spring I suppose.
I'm really going to miss my 4.30 pm twilights, but I suppose if we had our personal favourite seasons (autumn/winter in my case) all year round we'd never appreciate them to the extent we do.
Anyone else understand/have this reversal of the more conventional form of SAD? It's not that I won't get *something* out of the warmer months of flourishing nature, but witnessing Spring's birthpains is like an assault on the senses. Daffodils kind of disgust me - they're so raw, the early shock troops of the season, forced out of the soil into cold harsh misery and screaming in pain. Crocuses too. Like the visual equivalent of being near chopped raw onions or something. Snowdrops at least look more pleasant and delicate, but they're so impertinently 'early' - can we just have winter for now please, thanks? Anyone get this, or am I just sounding insane?
I think I might have posted about this before.
There's something within me which makes me feel uneasy usually roundabout March. It might be when the clocks change. I love the signs of spring, the warmer weather, birds and longer light etc. But there's something about the winter months. Hibernation, maybe seeing others less and less expectation, cooler weather which I actually prefer and the clothes that go with it. I think I'm naturally quite a cool weathered nocturnal person. I coukd explain it away but I think it's something inherent really.
I think this is natural for so many of us, simply because a) we are 'literal-thinkers', and b) because we have too much imagination. Two random examples of this:
1. Even though I know it's nonsense to think of rain being like tears; even though I know it's silly of me to feel depressed because rain reminds me of tears; and even though I'm aware of the 'Pathetic Fallacy' theory...I nevertheless am affected by rain/tears.
2. If I read, for example, a ghost story then the physical presence of the ghost is so real to me - in my mind's eye/imagination - that I can see the ghost's breath...even though, being dead, the ghost is rather unlikely to breathe. But that's an example of how immediate my imagination is. It's especially odd because, ordinarily, I have such difficulty in imagining how a book's characters look, particularly their faces.
I have a suspicion that I keep recycling the approximated same faces and bits of internal architecture when I read a book or listen to audio drama. I have about two kitchens to draw on, each broadly based on ones I’ve known in life.
Yes, hate that! I also hate when the author had three people talking and assumes you know who’s who at any point when some of the phrases aren’t distinctively them enough to make it clear. So I end up reading it three times over or more to get at least one combination right.
Shardovan said: internal architecture
You describe it so well. I think a lot of people probably draw on previous imagery or environment. The trouble is when you get to a bit in the story and it doesn't fit with what you've imagined so far!
I just wish I knew the absolute, factual reason(s) for this kind of limitation. It's a puzzling state to have both too much and also not enough imagination.