My freshman year roommate Carla, my current roommate Mari, and I have a sort of trifecta coalition against florescent lights. This is no blind bias either...we have our reasons: they're ugly; they make everyone in a florescent lighted room look pasty, corpulent, or all of the above; they make annoying buzzing sounds; they have the supernatural ability to lull anyone underneath them to sleep no matter the situation; etc, etc, etc. Over time, I have learned to deal with all of these things, especially considering the fact that North Park hasn't seemed to realize that there are other ways to light buildings. Generally I accept the monopoly that florescent lights have on my life at school. Yesterday, however, had a variable that I hadn't realized would bother me so much. Yesterday, I was still less than a week from being in Alaska for half a month.
This is Alaska in the wintertime. So yesterday, when I was in a brightly lit classroom inside a building that stood in a brightly lit day after two weeks of being in that ^, I felt unbelievably uncomfortable.
It was not fun.
One would imagine that after not seeing the sun for two weeks,the sight of that celestial orb would be met with some sort of excitement. In reality, it's less "Oh! The sun!" and more "Oh. The sun. Please put me back in my mole hole now", so among the dough punching and books with blank pages and all of the craziness that is returning to North Park, we may also add to the list the fact that I am constantly walking around campus (and selected brightly-lit classrooms) squinting like an opossum out during daylight. Is one of the early symptoms of a Vitamin-D insufficiency discomfort in bright lights? Either that or I'm turning into a vampire. I should probably WebMD that.