Anthony Bourdain's tragic suicide is hitting me a little hard. As an expat who travels extensively, and maybe excessively, in the past few years I have begun to feel more and more desensitized. Poor people, giant religious buildings, dingy bars, scammers, prostitutes, Starbucks and h&m, dusty streets, complicated traditions, languages and customs - it all starts to feel the same everywhere. I'm not sure if he was feeling this too, but I imagine he was. Eventually all the wonder at the world becomes a tiredness at the pointlessness of everything and all the sad little lives all stuck in their tiny worlds.

But I don’t want to leave my house.

I’m not sorry. I have a life and plans. I want to focus on what I want and if I can’t accommodate you, too bad.

I’m going to become rich and successful to spite my asshole ex. It’s going to be fantastic. He’ll be a distant memory and I’ll be on a beach in Barbados.

You didn't look at me when I passed by you, because you were afraid your heart would melt. I know mine would have.

and when I went out into the back yard this morning, there was a crow yapping away at me. Instead of flying away, it walked right up to me and started giving me a good talking to. I think it was my pal letting me know that he still thinks I'm doing a few things wrong........ the afterlife hasn't changed him very much!

After my husband's best friend (our best man ) died of an overdose back in the late 1980's. He was only 30 years old, and this was way before the current crisis but he had become addicted to demerol and opiod drugs via a doctor who prescribed them during a back problem. He bought street versions of these prescription drugs after being unable to obtain them legally. He detoxed twice but ended up dying of an overdose when he used again. Anyway, we did not find out until months later, when he had been buried in the town we used to live in, which was about an hour away from Vancouver. So we tried to settle our feelings over the next couple of weeks and it was touch and go both my husband and I were upset, and we felt like he had basically committed suicide and we should have been there. One night I had a dream about him and because I felt I had unfinished business with him,including an unspoken attraction, he made love to me with my husband in the same bed. When I asked him why, he answered, he would not mind, and disappeared... the next day I felt very strangely like closure it was such a vivid dream although the sex was just symbolic it was like a consummation of our friendship, our time together, and I have never dreamed of him since.

I don't enjoy giving people lifts- I find driving stressful. The favour is seldom returned once I am designated as the driver. I know it is better to carpool but I would rather not be the driver

I am sorry that I called You a jerk. You know I adore You. Am I finally forgiven?

I confess, I don’t like how much I look at the internet. I’m not anywhere near as bad as some people but I look at it far more than I’d like. I think I might leave my phone at home while I’m at work all next week.