Well, I’m starting the New Year with a broken heart. And my cat died exactly a year ago tomorrow. Happy New Year to me. I don’t feel sorry for myself, but I am sad. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I can count. Actually, that’s not true. I bet if I really sat down to think about it, I could count all the times I’ve had my heart broken, but I’m not going to because that’ll just make me extra sad. I don’t think I can take any more sadness. I’m writing this because this is my therapy. This time around I’ve been organizing my CDs while listening to them. They are old songs, of course, and I find that if I do my own private karaoke session with them while dancing with my old moves I learned from dance teachers in my past, I feel a lot better. I guess that would be my vocal physical therapy. Does that kind of therapy exist for real? I guess I could Google it, but I’m not. Or maybe I could be the first to bring it about! Either way, it’s helping me. I’ve also been watching a lot of music videos. I don’t know why that helps. I guess it has something to do with combining a mini movie mixed with music, two of my favorite things in the world, that makes it so therapeutic. Maybe every movie needs to be just 3 minutes long. Hopefully movies can still be made this year. If not, at least animated films should still be able to be made. It makes me think about how art and music and movies and novels exist because life is hard. (A good man is so hard to find, but a hard man is so good to find.) Duh. Everyone knows that. And all those things are a way for all of us to escape from life. Whether it’s bills or taxes or a broken heart or a broken car or a broken house or losing a loved one to cancer or worrying about a loved one in prison who is a lot more susceptible to getting the virus or black lives matter or the election or academic future or employment future or mental challenges or physical disabilities or losing a pet or all of the above, we all want to escape from it all from time to time. We all want to be loved. We all want to be understood. It’s just sometimes easier to find that love and understanding from the therapy we use to escape.