(no subject)
I'm beginning to think my happiness is only considerable while day- or night-dreaming or recalling fond memories. This scares me. Why does my happiness rest in thoughts and ideas rather than moments in which I'm aware of the blissful feeling? I was looking through old photos today and was briefly transported to wonderful instances of joy. I remembered how exciting that night was. I realized how all the moments in the photographs were amazing, lovely, infinite. I recognized that my life was so beautiful, even 5 years ago. So why is it impossible for me to feel that joy at the exact point it's flowing through my veins?
"You create your own future...You BUILD happiness out of insight and good habits. You ORCHESTRATE happiness...you work at it. You don't catch it as it hurls toward you like a football."
This has been my problem. This is what happiness appears to be, for me. A feeling you discover and claim as your own. A moment that quietly hangs from the ceiling like a bat, suddenly flapping it's wings and drawing attention to it's startling presence. But I know I'm wrong. I know one must create one's own world of happiness. I know that happiness is a state of mind, just as being negative and miserable is. I am fully aware that I hold the power to my joy.
What's the story, morning glory? Why am I so incapable of feeling that pure bliss I once knew as well as my rumbling, hungry, stomach? Is the bar set too high? Are my expectations too majestic? Too improbable? Too fanciful? Pretty amazing things seem to come my way every now and again. Right? Why is giving a title to the rough draft of my life so goddamn difficult? But I guess it's too early for a title. How can I entitle something when I don't even know the full story?
I remember winning the lottery, setting out on the Great Tastee D-Lite Hunt, stumbling upon a magical street fair, chomping into the most delicious grilled corn I've ever had, traipsing about the streets of NY as if we were the only ones still alive, and being aware of the bliss every. second. of. that. day. What has happened? Did I climax 5 years ago and forget to tell myself? Is all the juice out of me and I'm now trapped in a never-ending post-coital cuddle? Well, I guess it's time to stop spooning and rev up my engines again. I'm a woman and fully capable of multiple oragasms.
"You create your own future...You BUILD happiness out of insight and good habits. You ORCHESTRATE happiness...you work at it. You don't catch it as it hurls toward you like a football."
This has been my problem. This is what happiness appears to be, for me. A feeling you discover and claim as your own. A moment that quietly hangs from the ceiling like a bat, suddenly flapping it's wings and drawing attention to it's startling presence. But I know I'm wrong. I know one must create one's own world of happiness. I know that happiness is a state of mind, just as being negative and miserable is. I am fully aware that I hold the power to my joy.
What's the story, morning glory? Why am I so incapable of feeling that pure bliss I once knew as well as my rumbling, hungry, stomach? Is the bar set too high? Are my expectations too majestic? Too improbable? Too fanciful? Pretty amazing things seem to come my way every now and again. Right? Why is giving a title to the rough draft of my life so goddamn difficult? But I guess it's too early for a title. How can I entitle something when I don't even know the full story?
I remember winning the lottery, setting out on the Great Tastee D-Lite Hunt, stumbling upon a magical street fair, chomping into the most delicious grilled corn I've ever had, traipsing about the streets of NY as if we were the only ones still alive, and being aware of the bliss every. second. of. that. day. What has happened? Did I climax 5 years ago and forget to tell myself? Is all the juice out of me and I'm now trapped in a never-ending post-coital cuddle? Well, I guess it's time to stop spooning and rev up my engines again. I'm a woman and fully capable of multiple oragasms.