Self-pity is an underrated and widely misunderstood emotional state. I intend to write a book or pamphlet or jingle about this, if this millennial year doesn't, in fact, turn out to be the last one for the human race.
Also, I'd like to describe some behavior of mine. Is this normal? Every few weeks, we get a J. Crew catalog in the mail. My heart zings, and I say, "huzzah!". I bring it in, and with great earnestness read the thing from cover to cover. Then I throw it out, knowing that there is nothing in there that :
I suspect I have residual happy associations from years past, when my mom would circulate the J. Crew Winter catalog at Thanksgiving, asking people to circle what they wanted for Christmas. I enjoyed that ritual, as lame as it sounds. Sometimes I'd introduce a different catalog, but my mom had a mental block (or shy bladder or whatever) about ordering from other catalogs.
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