the words of the prophets

So I spent the last week hovering between total depression and moments of bliss, not for any real good reason except that I'm human and there's constant equal doses of amazing moments and conversely the continual shortcomings.

Some have told me that feelings of melancholy are indicative of spiritual problems, that I need to claim in the name of Jesus that yes I can be happy all the time. Others have let me make excuses for my emotions, disregarding the way that they've maybe not been so fun for the others around me. Some say I'm too busy and others that I need to be doing more. I get to the point where I feel like they're all wrong more or less. there were a lot of chronically depressed people who God spoke to, and if the book of Ecclesiastes and Dylan taught us anything, there is a time and purpose for everything, including sorrow.

I was able to force myself out of the blue funk, and I've always found that venturing to the east side does wonders, with its change of scenery and the chillness of some good people that always make me laugh. I made three sojourns out there in the past 5 days, one for Apples to Apples at a friend of a friend's apartment, Friday night cups of tea and scrabble at Algebra



where we were immensely amused by the sketchbooks in the back:

"



followed by pizza and gelato and then late night donut shop coffee-drinking, and then yesterday at Jerusha's apartment that was spontaneous and good times, discussions on theology, the history of India, eastern religion made palatable for the west...

Because as bad as things get in this city, there's enough to keep me here and keep me hopeful.