No Woman No Cry

I’ve been crying a lot lately.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not going to cry to you on my blog.

But lately, I just can’t stop. I don’t know if its relief, or just being female or what. But I’m crying, good, bad, sad, happy…I cry.

When I was in Ann Arbor, I could barely talk to Sabrina without shedding tears, about anything; seriously, it’s not sadness…its catharcism (my new word) or something.

But on my train-ride to Michigan, I did two really…wait…no…three, really stupid things.

I went and sat in the booze car, which is a good and smart thing. I wasn’t drinking, it was just a full train with lots of people and I wanted room, so I hung out back there. But it’s a little more public, and isn’t conducive to crying jags.

I rented Love Actually and watched it on my laptop in the booze car. Now, my guess is, Love Actually would have made me cry even if there was no crying jag, but my oh my did I get weepy. That was a great movie, one of the best I’ve seen in awhile, very romantic, very everything. I really enjoyed it, but man…CRYING.

I also was stupid enough to bring Marley & Me, by John Grogan. It’s a small, simple “my dog is so silly” book that’s been on the best seller list for awhile now. Part of my new plan is to start writing a little more about Remo, funny stories, things like that. So I thought Marley & Me would be a good start. John Grogan is a great writer, he’s a writer anyway, a journalist, and even though it was a simple read, it was really enjoyable. He’s so easy, but so descriptive, and I felt honestly like I really knew his little family, and his crazy mutt Marley. If you’re a dog person, get this book, I really really enjoyed it.

BUT COME ON PEOPLE, who was I kidding? Tears…massive amounts of tears, pouring out all over the booze car.

On the way home I was too tired and hung-over to cry. Maybe that’s the answer. More booze. Less sleep. Yup, that should do it.