If the idea is that I'm not crazy anymore, then clearly, that is the wrong idea. I'm not exactly there yet, but I think the idea is to recognize, sweetly and honestly, how crazy everyone else is. And then be less nervous about letting them see how hurt I am. In that way, unhurt people, or people who pretend all day that they are fine, will have very little to do with me. Good. I find such people puzzling and exhausting.

On Valentine's Day, I ended up at a bar at 4 am. I felt the palpable loneliness of the other people there; the nervous looks, the sadness behind great hair, full beards, and black glasses. As usual, I walked out unscathed. That's the right idea: risky sexual behavior is not for me. On the other hand: being unscathed, all the time, is not the right idea. The dichotomy isn't an STD from somebody I met at 4 am at the Continental versus a lifetime of painful and detached loneliness, but there is a lesson in there somewhere.

Something about the next phase of my life has me thinking that it's not supposed to be as difficult as all the preceding life--or that I'm not going to have to work so hard all the time. Certain burdens will slouch off on their own. On the other hand, I'm not super good at relaxing, and I have an insane craving for self-help these days. After I publish this little nugget of wisdom, I'm going to look up The Secret on Oprah's website. If I read it and grow wings, I will get back to you.