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I'm not sure, actually. I have a paper due by Tuesday. I have no concrete topic. I have written three paragraphs which adds up to not even one page out of a minimum of ten. I have read many, many critical articles which have no bearing on what I think I want to write about. I have watched Almeryeda's Hamlet four times in the last week and Campbell Scott's once (I liked his character; I hated the movie and everyone else). Still: no concrete topic. You'd think I'd be a little panicked, right? Yeah, me too. But I'm not. (And no, I'm not on any sort of drug, unless you count Nexium - which I do not.) Christmas is fast approaching, and despite having started shopping last December (that's not a typo) I am now not done. The cards are only about two-thirds done. The wrapping? Not even started. I have to grocery shop for the family we adopted, and for the holiday lunch I'm hosting on Saturday. I have to clean for the same lunch. Again: no panic. Not even slight stress.
I'm not sure what's up. Maybe I'm fast approaching some sort of scary breakdown, and this is the calm before the storm. Or maybe I'm doing better. It's hard to tell when I'm right in the middle of it, I guess. I'm not feeling crushingly sad. I was able to buy stunningly adorable clothes from BabyGap for my niece and feel no sorrow during the shopping. Holiday cards with pictures of lovely children are arriving every day and I'm not feeling bitter or jealous - I'm just feeling happy that there are adorable children in our lives. Maybe I really am better. Things have been okay this month so far. I have adorable new pajamas from Peter Alexander, and they came all the way from the other side of the world. (You can see those pajamas in these pictures, taken last night.) We saw The Incredibles (and it was). I had lunch with some of my girls. Greg and I watched Buffy season seven and it was much better than we'd remembered. (While we're talking about tv, you need to understand that Lost and Desperate Housewives and Veronica Mars are all terrific shows and if you're missing them, you're missing out.) I read a really good book. I spent a truly wonderful day in New York with my mom and a dear friend and her mom (more on that later, maybe tomorrow). I've started journaling again, and it feels really good. My class is over (besides the aforementioned paper). Tuesday night I saw magnificent theatre. I've been to the gym three times this month, which doesn't sound like a lot until I tell you that it's more than I went from May through November. My husband rocks the world. A group of wonderful women let me start posting at their weight loss blog. I participated in a holiday music mix CD exchange and got some truly great stuff out of it. I just had pizza for dinner. How can things be terrible if I just had pizza for dinner? The year: horrible. The month: not so bad. I'm feeling okay, and I needed to pause in the middle of my happiness exercise to tell you that. Three years ago today, something wonderful happened.
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I'm going to pause in the memory trail/happiness parade for a moment to think about how I'm doing.
