Book clubs have a way of turning into group therapy without the therapist. Everyone reads about a messed up family and then it's like a race to share the most dramatic home story. I notice this in regular chats too, where someone's bad day becomes a one up contest on suffering. We get so caught up in our own stories that we forget to listen, and that's when the yelling starts. It's a human thing, I guess, needing to feel like your pain is valid but sometimes missing the point of just sharing a good read.

Wow, talk about killing the mood. By the time my photos come back, I've already forgotten what I even took pictures of. It's like sending a letter by carrier pigeon in the age of texting. I shot a roll at my friend's wedding and got the prints back after they got back from their honeymoon. Might as well just time capsule the film and dig it up in ten years. So much for capturing the moment when you get it back a month later.