it's hard to maintain the stamina of Grumplestiltskin when there are lovely, darling, loving people around to remind me that love beats grump any old day.
Truth is, you know you're an adult when Christmas isn't fun anymore.
I was talking to my man today and this is no grand revelation but I thought: since holidays like Christmas have become synonymous with happiness (among other things) it's hard for one not to become stingingly aware of the ways in which we aren't happy.
No matter how "evolved" I try to be, my family drives me bonkers, and on a good day, I can play yogi and let it wash off of me, but there are so many other stresses in my life right now, that I simply can't be that magnanimous.
Still, I sit in my home, a nest of creature comforts, and my in-loveness, brings my ire to a halt. And having just talked to Kate, my love for her reminds me that there really is a real chance for collaboration and connectivity in the world.
I worked out like crazy with G and J today. I was every so slightly sloppy and a lot bit sweaty but it felt good to battle with myself.
I feel all fragmented and weird. There are big chunks of happiness and pleasure and luck in my life, but I can feel this strange drag, an inclination to be a real butthead.
I have the urge to do another Master Cleanser, since the last time I did it it brought forth a beautiful mantra and a round, full, sense of well being. I'm blabbing and it's reminding me of the Erica Jong quote in Radar about blogs -basically how inanely egotistical and indulgent they are.
Hmm. I don't much like self consciousness.
Well, the fraudulent Tabula Rasa that is a New Year is upon us, and I will happily ride it's seductive band wagon.
Peace and a drawer full of clean knickers for all.
Milla
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment