Secret Pop

Jan 12, 2004

"Go, Eagles!"

A guilty admission: I am often reluctant to proclaim it when I am feeling good. Especially these days. Especially when I have become so accustomed to feeling sad and/or downtrodden. But I will risk it and say that I actually feel a far-off yet familiar tingle of pleasant optimism. I'm in a writing workshop that I am excited about. I posted some of my art and received kind encouragement from friendly voices. I had a nice conversation with my dad, who thanked me for the baccala I sent back with Sarah for his holiday eating goodness. I spoke kindly to both my sisters, as well. I painted a little. I noticed it was warm out. I found good parking. I got a wonderful, beautiful, loving letter from a dear, dear friend who made me feel such gratitude that my life has led me across so many brilliant and worthy paths, the intersections of which have occasionally created tangential rays of their own that were always worth following and often excellent in their own right.

I also drank some wine. Maybe that explains the tingling. And it's just like me to diminish the meaning of my feelings by making light. I'm not always comfortable with sincerity. And yet I do so appreciate it when it finds me.

It is probable that I will always carry a hint of the melancholy, even in my happiest interludes. I don't mind it. I often miss it when it wanes. But these past few weeks were more a paralysis of helpless sadness than any sort of melancholy mood. I wasn't just seeing clouds where there were none. I couldn't see a sky at all. And could find no reason for looking up to seek one out.

I am sorry that time passes as quickly as it does. But happy that it passes at all. Glad that I am there to see it as it goes by, waving as if on a parade float. I always feel slightly left behind at a parade. As if I am standing still while all that is glorious keeps moving. Once, I was in a parade. That was an entirely different feeling. Even though it happened on Guam.

And The Hudsucker Proxy is on television. Which means I win! I mean, when that little kid finds the hula hoop -- come on. It's magic! He's like some hoop-swinging savant. I also like that they almost named it the Shazamiter. Anyway, I win!

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