It has been entirely too long since I have played with my blog. I am sorry, whoever is left out there that still follows me in some way.
Anyway, all kidding aside, I miss my blog friends. I miss Selma, and Meleah, and Paisley, Ixia and Josie, and everybody else whom I interacted with when I started blogging. Some of them are Facebook friends, but I have totally lost track of others. It's hard; sometimes I did not even know their real names, so I have no idea what became of them.
The last few days it's been rainy and gloomy where I live. This morning, on the way back from dropping off my kid at school, I was listening to "The Suburbs" by Arcade Fire. The song felt especially fitting, knowing it was inspired by The Woodlands, quite close to where I live.
I wished I had a camcorder with me on that short drive through my neighborhood. Everything felt dreary, from the overflowing trash bins sitting on the edge of every driveway (it's trash pickup day) to the line of cars in front of the school; the bike riders getting wet in the drizzle; a lone jogger in purple sweats, a black cat crouching in front of its house, a broken down Jeep Cherokee with a sticker advocating impeachment for Obama, the car that ran the stop sign in my street corner and almost hit me. I would have taken footage of all that and put it together with the song, its whiny melody the perfect soundtrack to a depressing morning.
Maybe I have SAD.
A commenter on a forum I am prone to frequent commiserated. They sent hugs and said: On days like that, it's difficult to remind yourself that the real joy is in the journey. And that is true. On a different day the same things would not drive into a pit of emptiness and despair. There are days when I would see signs that life's quirks are all around us, even in what would appear to be the most common and mundane places. I would get reassurance that no matter what, life goes on and we are all in the same boat. My heart would warm at the sight of siblings walking together to school, or I would chuckle at the notion that a possum visits my neighbor's porch at night to munch on food she leaves there for the couple of street cats that roam our street. But I can't enjoy the journey today. Today I am too wrapped up in my own private dance with the Beast.