Situational Depression

Rain in LA is a novelty. Rain on the east coast in November just kind of makes you want to kill yourself/not leave your bed. The view outside my window is gray and more gray and lots of leafless trees with dead-looking branches. No wonder I spent so much time in high school and college under the covers, reading, not really wanting to talk to anyone. Today, I felt the antisocial adolescent nerd in me resurfacing but the gray outside my window had robbed me of any spirit of resistance. I got back under the covers with copies of Pale Fire, Master and Margarita, and This Side of Paradise, the Sunday edition of the NYT and the latest New Yorker. And comforted myself with books and reading and didn't talk to anyone for hours.