I believe depression is real. It exists. But I can’t understand it.

It is so far from my experience that it’s hard for me to even conceptualize it. I’m always so neutral, so equanimous. It means I have no great highs but also no great lows. Though it’s hard to say because I’ve never been anyone else — but I never seem to get as ecstatic nor as excited as others get from time to time. Nor as deep in the doldrums. Or in any doldrums at all for that matter.

I’m an eternal observer. Because I’ve never known anything else, I like it that way.

Years ago, a friend of mine said to me, “You’re weird.”

“I’m weird? Yeah, I kinda know that.”

And she said, “If some guys came in here shooting this place up, I don’t think your facial expression would even change.”

“It depends on if they shoot me or not.”

“See? Weird…” she said.

Looking back, she knew me better than most people ever have I think.

Last night, we saw Julie Fowlis in concert, in a small venue with probably only about 100 people there.

Her singing and whistle-playing were just as stunning in live concert as on her albums. And she was also just as charming and sparkly in person as her YouTube videos make her seem. (As opposed to her latest album cover where she really looks nothing like herself.)

Could’ve met her after the concert, but we were hungry and ready to go — and what do I have to say to Julie Fowlis? “Durr, you sing real good. Like, real real good.”

Anyway, at $13 a ticket that concert was a steal.

*Puts hipster hat on*

I’ve been listening to JF since her first album — for nearly 10 years prior to her Brave movie fame — so it was cool to see someone so very good get well-deserved success and now artistically to be able to do what she wants.

And what she does is give an amazing concert with singing like no one I’ve ever heard.