The Good Things, Part 1

Whenever I'm feeling put upon, irritable with fatigue, or just plain (ahem) hotter than the hinges of Hell, I try to take several mental steps back and look at the good things in my life. Of which I have an abundance.

I'll detail the obvious ones first.

 Eva. She's a big one.

 She's spent parts of the past several weeks, quite rightfully, taking care of her dad, which has left me by turns lonely and pissed at myself for feeling something as trivial as loneliness, given the situation. It's just that, as I said recently elsewhere, despite having been together for nearly thirteen years, I for one still feel newly wed. It's interesting, though, to recall my life's circumstances just prior to our first meeting. I'd been without a girlfriend for a couple of years at that point, and had only recently come to fully accept that fact. I won't say I cherished being alone, but I was okay with it. Somewhat content.
It was only in hindsight that I realized how much I had clung to previous partners. Lynne, Cathy, if you're out there somewhere, I am sincerely sorry for the divots. The mere thought of being alone terrified me. For no good reason, as it turns out. "Alone" is a state of being; "loneliness" a state of mind.
Eva did not and does not complete me. I am a complete human being in my own right. What she has done -- among many, many other things -- is allow me to be that complete human being. To challenge me when  I need challenging; to comfort me when I need comforting; to share the journey of life. I can state with certainty there are very few people out there who would make half the lifemate for me that she does.

My friends, without whom my days would be duller than dishwater. Thank you for the rays of sunlight you have so generously shone my way. I love you all.

My pets, Tuxedo, Georgia-Peach, and the ancient and venerable B.B-cat, who still acts kittenish on occasion. They have enriched my life beyond measure, the three of them. Everybody who has met our Peach has fallen in love with her. These creatures love me unconditionally, and thus serve as a model for how I should love the people in my life.
And really, there is something to  be said for the life's philosophy of a dog: if you can't play with it, eat it, or have sex with it, pee on it and walk away.

When work gets me down -- and let me be clear in saying that as much as I occasionally miss my last job, I don't regret my new job one bit -- I reflect that (a) I have a job that (b) pays enough, and is (c) located close enough to my house that I can actually come home for lunch. That last is worth a lot. Given that I do not and never will drive, my career horizon has narrowed beyond most people's easy comprehension. Finding a job close by that suits me as well as I suit it is something akin to a moderate lottery win, is my view. And yes, there are good people at my new store. Many of them. People that after just seven months, I actually look forward to seeing in the morning. Which is, of course, the whole point of a job. You thought it was the money? Nah.


What else makes my life? Music. Piano music, much of it Russian, is gradually overrunning my iPod, but I still have pop and country and progressive metal and jazz and a whole lot of brass band and world and who knows what else.  Nothing is better for shaping a mood.  If I'm stressed, a little Levon Minassian will set me right in about ninety seconds. I have a whole playlist of material to go to if I'm feeling negative. Something like Great Big Sea will fix that in a hurry.


It's just an ordinary day, it's all your state of mind
At the end of the day you've just got to say it's all right...


Books. I'm currently neck-deep in Neal Stephenson's REAMDE,, which is living up to, if not surpassing, the hype of its reviews. I've had absurdly good luck picking out books I tend to enjoy the hell out of, which is probably why I'm still allowed to just buy a couple at a time.


And so on down the list until we get to the little pleasures, the things that bring a smile to your face not in spite of but because they're so small. The indescribably right feeling of putting on fresh socks. The taste of a cold Diet Pepsi. The gentle caress of a hot shower. Bedtime. Well, actually, if I was being honest, bedtime would rank just below Eva in my personal pleasure palace, and you get your mind out of yon gutter. Not for nothing did I give this blog an epigram from a poem by Charles Mackay:


I have lived and I have loved;
I have waked and I have slept;
I have sung and I have danced;
I have smiled and I have wept;
I have won and wasted treasure;
I have had my fill of pleasure;
And all these things were weariness,
And some of them were dreariness;--
And all these things, but two things,
Were emptiness and pain:
And Love--it was the best of them;
And Sleep--worth all the rest of them.




Speaking of which...the bed beckons. And I feel better. Still, more must be written. On the morrow, dear reader. Good night.