Why the Good Life Sucks
This kind of thing used to be easier when I drank. I could write a twenty minute radio monologue two or three commentaries and a newspaper column every week before I stopped drinking 16 years ago. One of the most jarring realizations of sobriety, I'm afraid, is that you are not as righteous, poetic or interesting as you thought you were. It's a humbler, healthier way to think, but humble healthy thinking does not a writer make. Writers -- especially humorists and social commentators (know by their common name: Gas bags) -- grind out pearls from the utter irritation they feel with the world around them. When the world around us turns pleasant and fulfilling we have to either fake our outrage, like Rush Limbaugh or Ann Coulter do, or we have to be quiet. Or, I suppose, find work with a greeting card company.
So, I can't decide whether to rename this blog, Tom's Special Sunny Place or to go start a fight with my wife. Of course, the very idea that I'm looking for the downside of having a pleasant and fulfilling life gives me hope that I'm every bit as neurotic and self-absorbed as I ever was and my best gas bag days may still lie ahead. Keep coming back.