"All sorrows can be borne if you put them in a story"

 It's a hard thing to start talking about your self. I don't know why I waited until now to be an open book. I guess ego is to blame.  One day Gracie is going to die. Whether it is at the end of an illness or if she makes it to a ripe old age for her breed, she will expire. And that really sucks.  I've had a few dogs in my life. Actually we probably buck the average in my family considering my aunt had associations with dog breeders. Dogs have always been a part of my life. Dogs have always been members of the family. And it has always been hard to say goodbye.    Dogs are great empathy machines. You get the sense that they know exactly what kind of mood you are in. They reflect back at you what you project on them; love, affection, anxiety (I'm told).  I love Gracie. I have taken way too many pictures of her. I've thrown novelty flying discs of various makes and models for hours at a time. I have hugged her, kissed her, bathed her, toweled her, fed her, pe...

 I am tired of feeling sad.  Really. I am tired of it. I have been a wreck for quite some time. I cannot for the life of me remember when overwhelming sadness started taking over my life.  I can hear the jingly tones of the seeing-impaired crosswalk from my window, the steady Doppler effect of vehicle engines rising and falling. I sit in my home alone, much too warm without A/C, feeling so low. I haven't cried today but have felt on the verge of tears several times. Like a guy who dresses up as a bat clearly has issues, obviously so do I.  The big ones revolve around death; the death of my father, the impending death of my dog (I imagine some time away still). I think of my fathers absence and I want to cry. Even writing that and I am misty. But this is the truth: I miss him. There's no shortage of moments in the day where I don't wish he was around. And he wasn't amazing, I can't sell you a false bill of goods here. He was just a man, as flawed and obstinate as any...

 Hello, my name is Adam Greene.  And despite my worst impulses I do care.  This is about the fiftieth time I've restarted this blog. At first it was merely a summary of a lousy podcast. Then it was a repository for lousy pictures.  Then it was a lousy, rarely updated, angry blog.  Then it was a flower shop.  Then it was another lousy, rarely updated, angry blog.  Then it was the Huffington Post.  And now it's a blog about me for me. For me to discover what I think about things. For me to share things that I can't share on social media because it would be awkward. For me to come to terms with all of the feelings and weird thoughts I have.  For me to help myself.  Because I like caring. It feels good.  And it is time I felt good.  Adam Greene deserves it.