Throughout history many cultures have worshipped at the alter of the Sun. Egyptians, Aztecs, the cast of The Jersey Shore…
You’ll notice that no culture has ever worshipped overcast, cold, rainy days. There’s a reason for that, and it’s that they suck. Hard.
I’ve been in Portland for some 50 odd days, the sun has been present for about 8 of them, and I was sick and confined to a bed for 4 of those. You can imagine how ecstatic I was to wake up this morning to this:
I get it now. I get why people worship the Sun. It’s bright. It’s warm. It makes the idea of running through fields of butterflies and dandelions seem straight, ok, maybe bi, but whatever.
It’s been so gloomy for so long that when I first walked outside I couldn’t see anything and I kind of cowered back into the shadows while literally yelling, “it hurts us!” because apparently two weeks of rain turns me into Gollum?
I almost jumped off of this bridge out of sheer joy! What would this have accomplished? I have no idea, but at least I would have drowned in precious sunlight!
I’ve been walking around with the stupidest grin on my face all day. It feels as if I’m in fifth grade and I like the Sun, and I mean like like. I want to call the Sun and awkwardly ask it to coffee. I hope my mom will drive us.