I always envy those with a coherent blog, with a nice layout and pretty bright pictures saying how awesome their lives are. Then I look at this sad little space which I write on (very occasionally), that blog with the title that doesn't really make sense, and the gloom and depression seems almost as bad as the thing looks.

I mean, no one's fault but mine. I think it's probably just a reaction to the rather chill-laxing life that I think I seem to be having now. Remnant from the past? Or is this just some other side that seems to think that everyone needs a little bit of negativity to keep things in perspective?

I have been to some of those things described on those happy blogs, and it seemed more wonderful to me reading about them than the actual event had been for me. I always wonder if that's a really good example of how the human mind works, by looking at them through the rose-tinted glasses of their memories. Where do the bad lessons, the little annoyances slip off to? Most likely regaled to the back confines of the brain, and over time it builds up this layer of dust, which makes it all the easier to forget. Or not forget, but somehow we never seem them that clearly anymore, so we blanket them with the aforementioned warm fuzzy memories. Doesn't seem that bad anymore, does it?

Then we look back at what we've written on our fuzzy blogs, thinking what an awesome life we had.

I would like to say that this is the part of me that remains grounded, but then it would mean that I think my peevishness about life is more real than all the happy parts.

That certainly isn't true, I'll like to think. Or maybe those happy blog people were simply expressing their desire to a better tomorrow (oh the nation-building connotations) by putting down all the positive things today. And then, somehow, those things would occur in the future, too.

That wouldn't be such a bad outlook on life. Oh the loveliness, fragility and delusions of youth.

"It was a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a dream, a form of chemical madness."

"How pleasant then to be insane!"

"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing of it."

Something for the people who check back once in a while.