Happy...Dying, but happy.

I need to write some positive things today. I am too tired of being angry. I've been overwhelmed lately. I guess I was in a situation that was too deep for my vodka-saturated brain. Squid brains. I am happy to feel somewhat relieved today, as I go back to my normal routine and a familiar mindset. I am happy to feel lonely, sweaty, even brave. I don't like bouncing back and forth between caring and indifference. I realize that I am very comfortable with one or the other and there may be no way to combine the two.
Every sentance in that paragraph starts with "I". Maybe that is my problem.
I don't see myself as self-involved (of course). I don't have many concerns, really. I don't fret about friends or lovers. It's not that I only think of myself...or, wait. Is that it?
I spend a lot of time thinking about death. My sister said that she thinks it's because I'm depressed. I guess that is supposed to be a way to tell if you are depressed. How often do you think about death? What's the measure? A couple times a day=depressed? A lot=suicidal? I can say that death is pretty much all I ever think about. Sex & death. Mostly death. But I am not depressed. It's just on my mind, that's all. And pretty much every conversation I have will lead back to it. But that doesn't mean a thing. Pretty much every conversation ANYONE has will lead to it, when you think about it. Right?
So I guess that train of thought is what inspires (in me) a lack of motivation. And I'd like to say that most of the time those thoughts make it easier for me to have a carefree attitude. But it's hard to find people to hang out with who don't mind the constant memento mori. And lovers don't like to be reminded that nothing lasts forever.
So here I am. It's August 12th (Happy Birthday Marla!!!!), and I don't have a tan. I don't have any money. And I woke up with John Denver's "Leavin' on a jet plane" stuck in my head.
I guess I am just bored.
Anyone watching Mad Men?
It's great.