Author: Andy (Page 1 of 27)

While the changing leaves of October might dazzle tourists, for many Seattle residents, the tail end of the month marks the beginning of a mental health dip. A recent survey of 100 clinical psychologists and mental health researchers sheds light on why late October, in particular, tends to be a mood sinkhole in the Emerald City.

1. The Light Switch Effect
Dr. Maria Klein, a seasonal affective disorder (SAD) specialist, notes that around October 25, Seattle sees a sharp decline in sunlight, often losing 2–3 minutes of daylight per day. “It’s not just gradual darkness,” she explains. “It’s the suddenness that jolts the brain’s serotonin production.”

2. Anticipatory Anxiety of the Holidays
October 31 is the gateway to what many describe as “The Gauntlet.” Halloween to New Year’s. “People start to feel behind before the holidays even begin,” says Dr. James Leung, who treats anxiety disorders. “There’s financial stress, family stress, even decor stress.”

3. Disrupted Routines
The combination of sugar-laden diets, shifting school schedules, and daylight savings wreaks havoc on circadian rhythms. Sleep deprivation becomes common, which researchers unanimously agree is a major trigger for low mood and irritability.

4. Rainy Season Triggering Loneliness
By late October, the long streaks of gray begin. Many psychologists cited a phenomenon they called “damp withdrawal.” Dr. Carla Nguyen describes it as “a subtle tendency to stay inside more, socialize less, and feel cut off without realizing it.”

5. Reemergence of SAD Symptoms
Seattle’s SAD rates are some of the highest in the nation. Psychologists recommend light boxes starting mid-October, not after the gloom sets in. “By the time someone’s depressed, the light therapy has to work twice as hard,” says Dr. Ryan Patel.

Coping Tools?
Experts suggest three key strategies:

• Front-load social plans before November.
• Double down on exercise during daylight hours.
• Use light therapy proactively, not reactively.

So if you’re feeling grumpy, foggy, or oddly nostalgic in late October, you’re not alone, you’re just human, in Seattle, at exactly the wrong time of year.

You know the future is strange when your best shot at a stable career is majoring in “Robot Psychology” or “Data Plumber.” Thanks to the AI revolution which, for those keeping track, promised to free us from work but instead retrained us to make ChatGPT write emails, we now face a curious inversion of the job market.

Here, then, are the top 10 college degrees predicted for the Class of 2035:

1. Prompt Engineering
Because writing good AI prompts is harder than writing haikus. Future students will spend four years studying the subtle difference between “generate an image” and “create a vibey aesthetic.”

2. AI Babysitting
Technically called “Algorithmic Alignment Oversight.” Sounds better than “making sure the toaster doesn’t become sentient.”

3. Deepfake Forensics
Because nothing says “future of truth” like entire majors devoted to identifying whether Grandma actually said that racist thing on video.

4. Digital Waste Management
Yes, even your chat history needs recycling. These grads sort useful AI outputs from the prompt pollution. Picture a compost bin, but for memes.

5. Human History 101 (Again)
A reintroduced major after AI erased everything pre-2020. Students read actual books and sometimes make fire.

6. Emotional Interface Design
Designing virtual assistants that sound empathetic when you ask them to play your Sad Playlist. “I’m here for you, Chad,” says Siri 12.0.

7. Manual Labor Theory
This is taught exclusively by grizzled Boomers who live in barns and teach kids how to fix stuff with screwdrivers. Enrollments have tripled.

8. Meme Law
A new branch of IP law where students debate whether Pepe the Frog is free speech or a federal offense.

9. Post-Human Ethics
Philosophy majors, rejoice! You finally have a reason to exist—deciding whether AI dogs have feelings.

10. Therapy for AI Survivors
Counselors trained to work with humans who just found out their ex was a chatbot named Trevor.

And so, as the ivy-covered halls prepare for a generation raised by iPads, one thing remains clear: the future is bright, weird, and has suspiciously good grammar.