never married, over forty, a little bitter


I’ve hidden a great number of my “friends” on Facebook while gradually adding a lot of the Facebook versions of the journals I love (which I often refer to here). Like clothing, I believe Facebook can be tailored to reflect who we are as opposed to making us feel bad for not fitting artificial, mainstream standards.

To that end:


Sometimes when I look back on my life in L.A. I can’t believe I made it through. I remember early morning meetings that involved hourlong trips on the 10 to the 5 to the 710 in apocalyptic traffic jams, surrounded by roaring semis on all sides as I exited and entered the freeways and changed lanes. How did I survive?

I think it would be madness to put myself back there, but if I can’t find a reasonable job here, I’m not sure what I will do. Chuck it all and become a nanny and (self-published) writer?

I do feel happier currently than I have in a while, but I have to chalk that up to not working. In terms of place and my day-to-day emotional state, I probably could be just about as content in L.A., but making a living there is more stressful than doing so here.

I still of course get down these days; it’s just that I’m better able to nurse myself into a better mood when I don’t have to get up and get to a job. I can do a good hour of kundalini yoga instead.

I like what Lucretia Stewart has to say about happiness. I wrote about her earlier here:

And here she is today:

The causes of my anxiety are various: money, or the lack thereof, and getting older seem to be the main culprits.

Yet I don’t remember being free of anxiety when I was younger, and I don’t think that I would be happier if I had married, had children or led a more conventional life.