Question of self
I have been sitting on this e-mail since January. I kept on looking at it, but never writing about it. I received the e-mail while I was visiting my family. From time to time I look at this. I wonder how this person is doing now. Is she still reading my blog.
Sorry about the sad times. I hate people who tell me to count my blessings, so I won't tell you to count yours. I just want you to know there are others out there who suffer as much -- or differently. It's all relative.
For example, I have no parents. They're both dead. My dad in 1980, my mom three years ago yesterday. I've been crying since the middle of December. It's an anniversary reaction, I know, but that doesn't make it easier.
My only sister lives in the Third World. All of my mom's family was older than she, and they're all dead, too. The cousins are all over the place and have no interest in staying close. My father had only one sister who's dead now anyway, and her sons are -- unavailable.
This year I bought two movie tickets a week in advance (you know, using a credit card which I SHOULD NOT BE DOING) for two tickets for "About Schmidt." I love Jack Nicholson, which is the only reason I'm going, except for promising myself I'd be out of the house when that damn ball drops. See, I live in good old NYC -- not far from that area. Seeing the ball drop and everyone yelling and hugging each other makes me feel all alone in the world. I can't stand it.
This is one of the central questions of my life. Should I be happy because I have done okay for myself in the life? Should I be upset because I think I could have made more of myself in the past? I have more then some people and less then others. What should that mean to me?
Sorry about the sad times. I hate people who tell me to count my blessings, so I won't tell you to count yours. I just want you to know there are others out there who suffer as much -- or differently. It's all relative.
For example, I have no parents. They're both dead. My dad in 1980, my mom three years ago yesterday. I've been crying since the middle of December. It's an anniversary reaction, I know, but that doesn't make it easier.
My only sister lives in the Third World. All of my mom's family was older than she, and they're all dead, too. The cousins are all over the place and have no interest in staying close. My father had only one sister who's dead now anyway, and her sons are -- unavailable.
This year I bought two movie tickets a week in advance (you know, using a credit card which I SHOULD NOT BE DOING) for two tickets for "About Schmidt." I love Jack Nicholson, which is the only reason I'm going, except for promising myself I'd be out of the house when that damn ball drops. See, I live in good old NYC -- not far from that area. Seeing the ball drop and everyone yelling and hugging each other makes me feel all alone in the world. I can't stand it.
This is one of the central questions of my life. Should I be happy because I have done okay for myself in the life? Should I be upset because I think I could have made more of myself in the past? I have more then some people and less then others. What should that mean to me?
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