…this morning, in my favorite e-magazine: Picame.
And it made me happy… because I am happy. !! [whoa.]
Having my mom here is a great gage to how life is going. I find myself getting excited about showing off every aspect of my life here in Jackson.
This is where I work.
These are my lovely clients. [they are great.]
These are my awesome co-workers. [they are great.]
This is how I dance at the Wort.
This is a fun person to dance with. [they are great.]
This is where I go for runs/walks.
This is my amazing/lovely roommate. [she is great.]
This is my friend ______. [they are great.]
This is where I go when I’m bored and want to run into someone.
This is someone I run into often. [they are great.]
These are the mountains I fell in love with. [they are great.]
This is some of my amazing friend’s amazing art.
This is my favorite thrift shop.
This is my favorite restaurant.
This is my favorite place to buy groceries.
This is my favorite place to get coffee.
It is all so exciting. All so smiling. Happiness.
So I won’t change a thing.
And yes, I expect there’s a small percentage of the small audience of this here blahg that wants to gag themselves because of all this happy talk… so I will include the obvious truth: I’m not always happy. In fact, I am almost always striving to be happIER… which is usually a trait of those not that happy…
Though I am happy, I want.
…to write more, to cook more, to create more, to make more, to kiss more, to dance more, to run more, to volunteer more, to weigh less, to read more, to see more, to travel more, to design more, to be more.
The ugliness of wanting leaves one questioning happiness.
Even when you’re [wow] happy.
Even when you have a mom who makes you heart cookies on sticks just like when you were a kid.
Then the realization [thanks to simple simple things] that…
I am happy.
Hope you’re happy.
Let this help…