My friend told me to write something cheerful, but I’m not very good at it.
Mainly because of this, this, this, this, or this. And this, on a lesser, but still important scale. I’m tired of all this. What’s up with this? Can anyone just do their job right? I just want to be able to rely on someone, for once. (As I turn off my phone and close my office door to shut out the world. Morales hypocrisy.)
I had a random passing thought of Robin Williams on Sunday afternoon. Standing at my mother’s bar in her kitchen, watching my brother pour himself a cup of coffee, listening to my sister and mother make jokes on either side of me. I can’t recall the thought in exact detail. Something about pretending to be a nurturing woman in Mrs. Doubtfire. Something about Hook. Something about his psyche. Something…
And then the news yesterday and I got a cold chill all down my spine.
I had a conversation with my sister Saturday on a swing set that consisted of: Are you happy? Is our brother happy? Is mom happy? I need everyone to tell me that they’re happy and then I can go on ignoring them. “I was born lost and take no pleasure in being found.” -John Steinbeck
I just feel heavy. I got home from work yesterday, put on my running clothes, went out to the couch, lay down, and slept for an hour.
Maybe it’s the Tuesday. Maybe I just need to run and sweat and exert myself. Maybe it’s the 15 hour rain and the gray. Maybe it’s the end of summer. I’ve never been a huge fan of August. I don’t know.