In my ear: Various selections from Rites of Passage and Swamp Ophelia by the Indigo Girls
No, I haven’t done anything I said I’d do. I haven’t written up my H&Ps, I haven’t gotten rid of my old car, I haven’t changed the design of this website, I haven’t asked a girl out on a date, I haven’t cleaned the mildew from the ceiling of my bathroom, I haven’t gone to the doctor to check this irritating pain in my left cheek that may very well be sialolithiasis (but that may just be in my head because we went over it in Path last week), I haven’t called friends back like I said I would. I haven’t worked out. I haven’t gone to sleep at a reasonable hour. I admit it. I suck.
No more lives torn apart
That wars will never start
And time will heal our hearts
Every man will have a friend
That right will always win
And love will never end
—from “My Grown Up Christmas List,” lyrics by Linda Thompson
But I swear, am I an excellent candidate for ECT or what? I was driving around running errands today and I heard the song “My Grown Up Christmas List” and I seriously wanted to burst into tears, spiralling into utter despair. I thought of all those people who were bereaved this year and of them having to spend the holidays with loved ones not there, and I just got really, really sad.
But I also realized that I really shouldn’t post stuff like this here. I should keep this emotionally neutral, maybe even funny. I thought of starting a different section for my depressing entries so you wouldn’t have to read it if you didn’t want to. Of course, I’m sure this is just another of those things that I say I’ll do but won’t. Just like that fantasy novel I’ve been meaning to write for a good twelve years now. Bleh.
So much for that. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again. (And maybe one of these days I will really, really believe it and actually do something about it.) Tomorrow is another day.