Fried Brain For Breakfast

I’m thinking too much today, and I’m reminded of several men in my family. My grandfather’s reaction whenever my grandmother used to start a sentence with, Honey I’ve been thinking. He used to roll his eyes and mumble, God help me, here we go again. My uncle, who came up with the long form of Nike’s slogan: (don’t think), just do it. And my dad’s unique response to a ‘but I thought…’: a horse has such a big head but doesn’t think. And you, with your tiny little head, would want to do some thinking?

But growing up around these people hasn’t cured me of the habit. I still think too much. This past week, there have been some tragedies in my family, and some good news as well. Everyone is getting on with their lives as best as they can, it seems. Then today, I heard about another pregnancy and it made me think about happiness, about what that is exactly. ‘Different strokes for different folks’ is a good English expression, but news of pregnancies always makes me sad. It seems like such a simple, uncomplicated form of happiness to me, and it must be great if you can bring yourself to want that. Personally, I guess I’m more complicated –and therefore less happy? Or just in a different way…