May I culpa?

I had it revealed to me that on this blog I sound like I'm fueled only by Xanax and the soft winds that blow as the yacht of failed dreams leaves the harbor of false hopes. But that is not either accurate, or really all that interesting. So, I choose to make it clear: I am very happy. Whether it is my birthday or some other day, normally I'm smiling.
I have an excellent female companion (some say girlfriend) Kathryn, who is a great friend, a good cook, funny and has the added benefit of being good at putting up with me.
Also, there is her brother, Eric, the third and final member of the Z Team. He plays drums, is learning to play bass and is an accomplished photog. And he takes some of the blame off me for things we don't get done that we're supposed to when Kat is at work.
Circling back, we're called the Z Team because we're the last group of people you call to hang out with after everyone else has gone on to better things, like the beach or binge drinking.
Anon, back to the explication of my joy. Just yesterday, I heard a woman say, "It's what you make of it. It really is. It's what you make of it." I think she's right, and that's what I've tried to keep in mind when I feel like I'm going nowhere and achieving nothing. You can still enjoy the ride, in fact, you must.
But even more than what you make of it is what you think of it. If you think you'll be miserable, you likely will be. So I don't want my blog to read like a suicide watch. I'm generally sunny with only very occasional showers of sadness. And since I live in Yuma, that isn't likely to change.