I really don’t have much to write about today. Actually, I feel like I don’t have a much to write about at all anymore. It’s funny what happens to someone like me when they’re happy; there tends to be less drama and therefore they become a little more boring. I bore myself online now, too.
Lately, in order to remind myself of how miserable I can be, I have been reading through my archives. Some of what I wrote about over the past 3 years is kind of bewildering. The time that stands out the most is how unbelievably unhappy I was while Toby Joe and I were living out West. (If you’re new here and care to get a glimpse of The Great Depression after the fact, you can get an idea of how unhappy I was here, here, here, and here.) I would like to take this time to publicly apologize to anyone who may have been reading this while we lived there. Holy sad girl alert. Apparently, I wore black on the outside because it how I felt on the inside.
I’d like to finish this fantastically random post by making the following statement: No matter how depressed I REALLY was at the time of The Great Depression, it’s amazing to me that, in retrospect, I’m able to think to myself, “I had a good time back then. A lot of wonderful things happened then.” And the strangest thing is, I actually BELIEVE it now. Does the mind retro-shock? Because, when I look back on our move to San Francisco, I see blue skies, great walks, excellent dinners, amazing scenery, and wonderful smells. I see something more like this and this. I don’t see the Michele who wrote about how unbelievably sad she was. At least, not until I remind myself.