Sometimes I think that the reason most holidays happen in the winter is because whoever planned the calendar wanted to make sure that we all don't kill each other or ourselves.
The only reason I believe in seasonal depression is because it explains the way I feel in winter.
It's a little weird, because
a) I love snow
b) I love the smell of snow
c) I love snuggling up in a warm blanket when it's cold outside
d) I love getting time off from school
e) I love seeing holiday decorations
See, I love all of these things, but I still hate winter. To me this means that there is some added factor, aka seasonal depression, that's working its mean little magic on me. Winter is when items a through e happen, and still, I'm unhappy.
Thinking about seasonal depression has lead me to believe that there are three types of people who endure winters in the midwest
1) The people who gush and squeal and listen to Christmas carols before Thanksgiving who are so obsessed with the holidays, that they don't care that it's winter and winter is miserable.
2) The scrooge-like people who admit to hating the holidays, hating the winter, basically just hating everything
3) Then there are the people like me, who don't usually admit that we hate winter. Maybe I just don't enjoy the holidays like I did when I was younger, but I rarely admit it, because I don't want to be mistaken for a "2". "2"s hate everything, I just hate the holiday season.
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