Funny Doesn't Mean Laughter

I'm depressed. But aren't all artists?

I'm deep. Real deep. Sometimes I think so hard about something that I get wrapped. Like this blog, for instance. I want to write, and I know how to write, but there's some motivation lacking or something. Well, the motivation is there, but a topic fails me at the moment.

Let's reflect on what makes Ian smile...

Seeing my partner happy and knowing the love we share.

Seeing my niece's face.

Knowing my cousin's young family.

My pets.

Ice cream.

Creating.

Giving a satisfactory experience to a client at work.

Desperate Housewives.

McDonald's large iced hazelnut coffee.

Flying a kite.

Writing something amusing.

A sunny, but cool day.

Let's reflect on what makes Ian laugh:

Sharing something funny with my partner, that he equally thinks is funny.

When our dog runs around the house like he's WAY over-caffienated.

Reading posts on http://www.lamebook.com/.

Conan.

Reading posts on http://www.regretsy.com/.

The ridiculousness of day-to-day life.

Margaret Cho.

Being tickled.

Thinking of something that's inappropriate for the setting.

Yes, I'm a multifaceted person, just trying to make sense of this crazy world we live in. Sometimes I wonder if there's more to life than the here-and-now. Of course, I know there is. I read about it all the time. Rags to riches stories, brainiacs who managed their business correctly, and accidental millionaires. I know money's not the solution to everything, but I also know it has the ability to make life more comfortable. No, I'm talking about some alternate, parallel universe. A place that not even leading physics can identify. Does it exist?

If it does, would I be the same person I am today? Or would I look like me but have a different, if opposite, personality?