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Rosanna Arquette (who is five years older than me) and Herbert Hoover (who is dead) have both passed another birthday.

I’m celebrating the event in Boston, just as I did thirty-three years ago, when Rosanna Arquette was also five years older than me and Herbert Hoover was also dead. I bought books, I ate unhealthy food, and I finally saw Salem, Lowell, and Lawrence. And I had lasagna under the Leaning Tower of Pizza.

And I’m not going to share any great new wisdom. But here’s a picture of the tower:

And here’s where I didn’t eat lunch because they were closed:

That’s all I got…

…but not as much as 2011 did.

At least for me.

For sheer misery, that will be the one I remember till I die. I’m way past it now, but just thinking back to how miserable almost every day of that soul-sucking year was for me makes me cringe. As bad as it seemed at the time, I really don’t think I quite realized just how fucking dark a place I was in (for 2012 and part of 2013 too). It’s kind of scary in retrospect and I’m glad I finally got some help.

I like myself and my life a whole lot better now. In fact, I think I’d like myself even if I weren’t me. Mainly because no one else could parse that last fucking sentence. But also because I’ve now re-learned how to enjoy life and prioritize the important stuff. Usually, at least.

Anyway, if you have to make a New Year’s resolution, asking for help when you need it might be a good one.