This morning in a dream, I gave really good life perspective advice to Paris Hilton. It was a strangely detailed dream, and to my surprise, I liked Paris when I was hanging out with her.

While thinking about that dream in the shower later, I thought of how my blog entries have been shallow and frivolous for awhile now, and if a new reader comes in, he/she would think I just goof off and document what I do on my free time. The early posts had more gravity and involved deeper thinking and evaluation of self and of human nature. But that’s because I was coming out of depression.

So then I wondered whether ignorance truly is bliss. Am I some sort of yippy skippy ditz now and that’s why I’m happy? Or is the happiness what brings me out of overthinking so that I’m content with just the most surface of things?

Mr. W says the best artists are depressed and troubled. I told him if that’s true, then he’s stifling my creativity. He said he doesn’t think he’s the source of my happiness. I laughed and said that’s true, he can’t possibly be.