'Tis the Season

Ah. I can feel the gloom lifting. Today, for the first time in six months, the days are actually getting longer albeit much colder. But I'd rather live at minus 40 in daylight than pass another day in the twilight of fall. Sure, by New Years Day we will only have gained a mere 12 minutes of daylight, but I'll take them. At least it is a step in the right direction.

On another subject, and not being able to think up an appropriate segue, I will simply report that a mental health society in the UK has published a list of Christmas carols for the mentally disturbed. This has caused a stir in the press and there have been accusations of extreme insensitivity on the part of the agency responsible for having it published. However, the editorial board apparently is made up of "users" of mental health services themselves. So if they find this amusing, who am I to argue?

So, without further ado, here they are:

1. Schizophrenia - Do You Hear What I Hear?
2. Multiple Personality Disorder - We Three Kings Disoriented Are.
3. Dementia - I Think I'll be Home For Christmas.
4. Narcissistic - Hark The Herald Angels Sing About Me.
5. Manic - Deck The Halls And Walls And House And Lawn And Stores And Office And Town And Cars And Buses And Trucks And Trees And...
6. Paranoid - Santa Clause Is Coming To Town To Get Me.
7. Borderline Personality Disorder - Thoughts Of Roasting On An Open Fire.
8. Personality Disorder - You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll Tell You Why.
9. Attention Deficit Disorder - Silent Night, Holy Oooh Look At The Froggy, Can I Have A Chocolate, Why Is France So Far Away.
10. Obessive Complusive Disorder - Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,.
    

Your homework assignment is to add, via the comments, your additions to this list. I'll offer the first:

1. Megalomania - Joy To The World, For I Am Born.
   

The Dark Days Are Upon Us

Being south (a tad) from the Arctic Circle, my town never experiences the 24 hour night at this time of year. But ever since the summer I have been aware of a relentless slide into darkness.

Today the snow-obscured disk of the sun rose after I arrived at the office and slunk away into an abyss of deep, ominous gray well before my mid-afternoon break. This descent into ever-lengthening night will only conclude on the morning of December 22 when the sun touches the Tropic of Capricorn and begins its all too slow march back towards the equator. On that date we will have 5 hours of sun, though to be quite fair we will have extensive 90-minute twilights on either end.

On a sunny day, at "high" noon, my shadow extends a good 40 feet along the ground, pointing almost due north. The sun simply skims the horizon, and there are areas in our town which don't get the sun's disk for a couple of months due to the high hills nearby.

And the sun is a frigid one, yielding no warmth at all, like one of those strange LED bulbs. Even in February, when the mercury dips to minus 35 celsius, the sun is high enough on still days to melt a little bit of snow from the eaves and form icicles. But in the Arctic December the sun is only a disk, casting pastel pink light around the landscape.

I've heard of some southerners taking light therapy at home to stave off the affects of seasonal affective disorder, that physiological condition that carries the appropriate acronym SAD. Myself, I've never felt the need, but as I grow older I am beginning to notice an increasing coincidence between the dark days of November/December and health complaints.

I've had a cold I just can't shake which has left me feeling more than a little aguish. I have had to cancel two roadtrips for work simply because I was concerned with really descending into sickness. But so far I've been able to fend off the more serious medical complaints.

So why, I ask myself, do I live here?