My friend texted me today to tell me she was suffering from "post-vacation depression". She'd been on her first trip with her new boyfriend and apparently it went so well that settling back into her normal life has been a complete let down. I immediately have flashbacks of the scenes in Almodovar's "Broken Embraces" where they are hiding out in the motel.
I started to think about how I've kind of been suffering "post-vacation depression" for most of my life. Out of boredom I started attacking the big box of unsorted ticket stubs the other day and it's forced me to look back in a way that I always avoid because it's quite uncomfortable.
My ticket stubs from 1992-2000 are carefully bound in a notebook, but then after that I began dating my ex-wife and they just turned into stacks of ticket stubs bound with a rubber band. Those stacks turned into ziploc bags, the ziploc bags into a box, that box into a larger box, and so on.
None of these…
I started to think about how I've kind of been suffering "post-vacation depression" for most of my life. Out of boredom I started attacking the big box of unsorted ticket stubs the other day and it's forced me to look back in a way that I always avoid because it's quite uncomfortable.
My ticket stubs from 1992-2000 are carefully bound in a notebook, but then after that I began dating my ex-wife and they just turned into stacks of ticket stubs bound with a rubber band. Those stacks turned into ziploc bags, the ziploc bags into a box, that box into a larger box, and so on.
None of these…