Morning Again
Oct. 6th, 2005 12:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
greenstormThe time has passed so seamlessly, and here I am, in the tiny hours of tomorrow, almost ready to sleep. My body is past ready, and my mind is in that state where I need never sleep again as long as I keep my forward momentum. I want to write something beautiful, because I live in the midst of so much beauty right now. I was asked how I was today, and I answered again, "I'm wonderful. I've been for over a year now." Juggler told me, "if you were mentally weird at 10, on a scale from one-to-ten before you went off hormones, you're at about a one now, and maybe a two just recently."
I'm healthy. I'm happy. I'm wildly in love with so many things. I have fascinating conversations with interesting people. I touched clothed elbows with people I'd be happy to leap into bed with, and yet I don't, and life remains simple. I smile. A lot. I smile at people, and I smile away from people. I run down the street in the fall air and drape scarves around people and wander around the city deep in conversation. I edit papers and occasionally seduce people away from work in the mornings. I do half the things I could be doing, and speak with half the people I want to speak with, or maybe less. I constantly want to stand in open spaces and lift my arms with the feeling I might fly away. I buy orange juice in the supermarket instead of milk, and run frantically around my house doing laundry every time I come through it. I help prepare food instead of cooking it myself, and I drink tea. Sometimes, I am almost swallowed up by the sheer huge joyous dance that is my life. Sometimes, I am swallowed.
I love things. It's what I'm made to do, and when I can just do it, things work. Things are working. I'm stripping away all those complications that are used to bog down delight in other people, to weigh love into a thing of duty and misery and shattered expectation. I can't remember what that feels like anymore, not really; thinking of you makes me smile. And, I do mean you.
So, as the desiderata says, be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Always, be well.
...and... good night. :)
I'm healthy. I'm happy. I'm wildly in love with so many things. I have fascinating conversations with interesting people. I touched clothed elbows with people I'd be happy to leap into bed with, and yet I don't, and life remains simple. I smile. A lot. I smile at people, and I smile away from people. I run down the street in the fall air and drape scarves around people and wander around the city deep in conversation. I edit papers and occasionally seduce people away from work in the mornings. I do half the things I could be doing, and speak with half the people I want to speak with, or maybe less. I constantly want to stand in open spaces and lift my arms with the feeling I might fly away. I buy orange juice in the supermarket instead of milk, and run frantically around my house doing laundry every time I come through it. I help prepare food instead of cooking it myself, and I drink tea. Sometimes, I am almost swallowed up by the sheer huge joyous dance that is my life. Sometimes, I am swallowed.
I love things. It's what I'm made to do, and when I can just do it, things work. Things are working. I'm stripping away all those complications that are used to bog down delight in other people, to weigh love into a thing of duty and misery and shattered expectation. I can't remember what that feels like anymore, not really; thinking of you makes me smile. And, I do mean you.
So, as the desiderata says, be cheerful. Strive to be happy. Always, be well.
...and... good night. :)
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 08:21 am (UTC)Now you just need to call me, grr.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 08:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 09:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 09:56 pm (UTC)Wow, yay! I love to hear rambling exited posts: it's the surest sign of authentic happyness, I think.
z.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-07 09:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-08 01:35 am (UTC)That comment is more appropriate than you may think.
z.