1. Go to bed early. Some days are just bad days – and there’s nothing you can do to change circumstances and turn the day around. Remind yourself that there are better days as well, and tomorrow is a new day and a chance to start again.
2. Do something you enjoy. You may not be able to control…
There’s one thing I have to say so I’ll be brave You were what I wanted I gave what I gave I’m not sorry I met you I’m not sorry it’s over I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save
“Why do people have to be this lonely? What’s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning, looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the Earth put here just to nourish human loneliness?”—Haruki Murakami - Sputnik Sweetheart (via murakamistuff)
“I wanted to talk with her about so many things, hear her opinion. If she didn’t want to say a thing about herself, fine by me. Just to be able to see her, to talk with her, that was enough.”—Haruki Murakami - South of the Border, West of the Sun (via murakamistuff)
hollywood has given us two, equally false, notions of marriage. either it’s the joining of two gorgeous young people “destined” to be together, or as a wheezing and cold institution inhabited by miserable and middle-aged wheezebags, usually meant to illustrate a counterpoint to the love the gorgeous young couple in the film will share once their destinies are realized, and they are able to finally be together against all odds. yawn. boring. wrong. …
it’s doing laundry. it’s paying bills. cleaning the kitty litter. marriage is a hundred thousand tiny tasks you share. it is peeling vegetables and changing lightbulbs and giving each other quick kisses and wishing for each other “a nice day.” it is coming home and smelling dinner cooking, and running out on a cold winter night for antacid because she has a headache and cannot sleep. sometimes marriage is being pissed off at each other for weeks at a time. and sometimes it’s walking into your children’s bedrooms and watching them sleep.
(I love everything about this quotation, but I am concerned that an antacid will not effectively treat Michael Ian Black’s wife’s headache. And then he is going to come home and be like, “I ventured out into the frigid night to get you this Pepcid AC,” and she will be like, “I have a headache, not heartburn,” and then he will have to go back to CVS and there will be a bit of mutual resentment even though everyone is trying to do right by everyone else. This is also marriage.)