Sometimes, without really meaning to, I’ll say something that others will tell me is very sad. Whether it’s denying buying a new pillow because “I’m not really used to having one” or noting that I didn’t know how much to cook for two people because I’d never really done it before, or, and this one is quite recent, accidentally writing just a super mopey, angst-addled post and throwing it to the internet. As it happens, sometimes I accidentally seem to portray myself as sadder or less hopeful than I am. This isn’t to say that I’m an optimistic person or anything–there isn’t enough alcohol for that–but I do feel good about my life and the things I’ve got going more often than I feel like a worm dragging itself through a field of glass-laced wet concrete.
So rather than stumble through another post that might make people wonder if I do anything other than cry into pillows and listen to the soundtrack from the sad part of every Pixar movie, I’m going to make a little list of all the things I have that make my feelings the good feelings.
Some things I have to feel good about.
- Some guy that used to be an asshole to me in middle school grew up to have a gross beard, an empty smile, and no Facebook privacy settings.
- Oyster mushrooms taste amazing, and it only took me a few minutes to stop thinking about them growing in my dark, damp guts after I ate them for dinner last night.
- Cats are good and soft and mine will stop what she’s doing if I get under a blanket and start saying “Where’s Moira!” and that is just the cutest shit.
- I’m almost to the point in my life where I have enough of a good public reputation that I could walk up and steal a child’s ice cream, and nobody would believe that I did it.
- Except, some people might believe that I did it but only as a joke and not because I’ve denied myself shitty McDonald’s soft-serve for too damn long.
- My sleeping habits are healthy enough that strangers have stopped flinching when they see me.
- I was finally brave enough to pop the cork on some fancy sparkling wine without screaming when it shot off.
- I got my bike tires refilled because, apparently, I’d been doing making my commute way harder than it needed to be because low bike tires make for slow bikes but disgustingly strong calves. I could kick my way into a bank vault.
- I have enough self-control not to sprint to the mailbox every day even though my diploma and my glasses are being sent to me and I want them both immediately so nobody can take them away.
- My therapist suggested I get a planner to write out everything I have to do in my a stressful part of my life to organize things and set up clear goals, and that the planner actually doesn’t matter, but what does matter is that I also got some colorful pens and I’m color-coding the shit out of my whole existence.
- And of course, some very nice people read my blog, and I don’t want them to worry or think I spend to much time sitting in a big hole of self pit-ty. So thank you all for your relentless and unexpected kindness on yesterday’s mopey post and just in general, and I’ll get back to writing justifiably angry silly things again soon.