no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,
no.
roses_rejoice

mouse toons.

On a happier note, I feel quite emotionally settled for the first time in years. Which, just to clarify, is not the same thing as "settling" in the bad sense people use the term. Initially I was hesitant to make this post here, because I always feel like talking publicly about being happy is likely to bung it up. Like all those teenage girls who post, "Jason and I are in love! I'm happier than I've ever been!" and Jason gets a new girl next week and dumps 'em and they're crushed and have to make a post taking it all back. But this feeling is different. It's like a chemical change, there's no way I could go back to the way I was before, so even if somebody left or did something strange, it would be of less consequence. Plus, it's good to challenge jinxy stuperstition sometimes. So I am posting, albeit knocking on the wooden desktop just in case.

I can't remember feeling this way before, unless it was maybe when I was 19, and it's hard to remember back that far. Of course I've had many happy moments since then, but they were either etched with a numbing drill, or fraught with ephemerality, unsurety. Regarding the former type, I have little emotional memory of the time after I was married and before I started getting really sick. I know I was calm and relieved and happy in the way that one who gets an analgesic and can finally sleep is happy, but I recall those times through a bit of a fog, the fog in which I guess I existed then. A pleasant fog, like when cool heavy rain falls on hot pavement down by the river in Tremont. But a fog nevertheless.

Regarding the latter type, it is well known that I hate people who make me uncertain. Hate hate hate. I hope you see the damage that you do. Nuff sed.

I'll take my spontaneity in measured doses, thank you.

yesterday I actually remembered that Wayback when I was first married I used to collect these little guys for a while. And I was like geez, yeah, I used to be into that, I backburnered it...I mean, I have a big binder of all the retired pieces and past catalogs downstairs, and a bunch of the pieces in my drawer waiting for me to refinish a shelf or get a display cabinet ready, and yet, it didn't register somehow. Every time I saw that stuff I was like, I'll get to that some other day, some other year, some other life, I'm busy. It was good to have a minute to think about it again. I like those happy little mice.
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