Last week I watched a movie that I’d forgot I saw some time ago, and it reminded me of who I once was.  Who I still am deep down.  I’ve been feeling sorry for myself, and maybe a little depressed too.  Forcing myself to get out and enjoy life.  Forcing myself to write too.  I guess its a little natural when you are unable to do something you once did.  Watching Better Off Dead brought a sense of familiarity, and the smile back to my face. Christ, were we that weird in the 80’s? We were fearless too. At least I was. I said and did what ever I wanted and didn’t give a shit if anyone liked me, or if it was a little dangerous. Now, it seems like I worry about what’s going to happen to me if I fall on my head, and if some magazine likes what I write. Hell with that. If I fall, I’ll get back up. If they don’t like my writing, I’ll keep sending it out until I find someone that does. Yeah. Watching that movie was a good thing.