Everybody, with almost no exceptions, that I know is depressed, poor or both.
I guess I’m a bit jealous, not of being poor, but of people (or me) listening to their whining. When I was depressed it was made clear to me that whining is not acceptable behavior. (Springs Girl this isn’t about you; don’t take it personally.)
Eventually I stopped whining because I wanted to have some social life, and my sister is basically my only real relative. When I call my sister if she doesn’t like the tone of my voice or what I have to say she’ll hang up. I can’t do that so last night I was subjected to another 45 minute long diatribe on everything and nothing. I finally couldn’t take it anymore so I hung up as I had spent most of the day cheering Big Luce up.
We’ve been friends for almost 30 years and I can make her laugh by just giving her a look or saying almost anything. Big Luce is so deluded she thinks I’m the female straight David Sedaris (in my dreams.) I can make Little Luce (fourteen, ninth grade) laugh too, though at 5’9″ she’s hardly little. Little Luce’s sentimental and couldn’t believe that I remembered her first written report in kindergarten in its entirety. Sometimes I think that it’s the most brilliant paper that I ever coached out of a kid.
Subject: What’s your favorite food, and where do you eat it? (This is New York, they weren’t referring to the room.
Report: I like French Toast at French Roast.
If all reports, writing and life could be that simple.
