No, i haven’t seen that Will Smith drama from last year, and i don’t want to write about that. I just had very interesting experiences lately. To be exact, i felt happy, now and then. Last night i remembered that week i spent with my friends in the summer—though writing relive would be more precise. Remembering seems to make people happy. When i remember how great a party was last year—and there was a couple of great parties indeed—i only remember how much i enjoyed it, how much fun we had, not that next day i was this-and-that overhung. Memory (the mental ability of remembering past events) seems to sugarcoat memories (the impressions of past events): when i recall a concert for example, where i know, that i didn’t enjoy myself so much, even though i now feel like it was a great thing. It must’ve been.

Remembering makes me happy. But not only that… Sometimes i’m just reading a book, and suddenly i put it down and smile into the nothingness. Don’t ask me why. And don’t ask me why i make such a big fuss around this. I’ll answer that anyway. In the past times, i haven’t exactly been happy, at least it wasn’t the general feeling. I was rather constantly tired, underslept, maybe even gloomy. This seems to be what december brings along for me, after the cheerful… no, rather sentimental autumn, overflown by love, and crushed by it.

Living in the past is fun.