![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Dec. 14th, 2010 03:31 amI've had a shaky tic in my eye for weeks now. Like a bunch of tiny thumbs are incessantly nudging it around from the back.
But other things have got happier here.
It's funny in most books how most of the sources of happiness in any day just aren't acknowledged. You'd think life was a pretty miserable affair, reading some of them. But it's Blake's kissing joys as they fly, isn't it? To name is to hold too long, for many happinesses. Forgetting as a flying kiss itself.
Probably oily Greek food counts as one of those. It is not bearing thinking upon. And in fact is making me shudder. But it was delicious.
But other things are better for the lingering. A loved one loving you back. A nestled kitten. Secret skies on snowy nights. Acts of kindness.
But it also feels like a mix-up when people are kind to me, hence my bewilderment at getting compliments and awkwardness at paying them - to properly socialize I always have to fight past the sense that compliments will similarly disorient other people, or perhaps be meaningless because coming from me. Where was I that I came to feel that? What is it inside me that still does? It's like you grow up sideways and, once an adult, waddle a whole uprooted continent of raw moment square footage around, some patches or other forever alarmed by the breezes stirred up with your going.
But other things have got happier here.
It's funny in most books how most of the sources of happiness in any day just aren't acknowledged. You'd think life was a pretty miserable affair, reading some of them. But it's Blake's kissing joys as they fly, isn't it? To name is to hold too long, for many happinesses. Forgetting as a flying kiss itself.
Probably oily Greek food counts as one of those. It is not bearing thinking upon. And in fact is making me shudder. But it was delicious.
But other things are better for the lingering. A loved one loving you back. A nestled kitten. Secret skies on snowy nights. Acts of kindness.
But it also feels like a mix-up when people are kind to me, hence my bewilderment at getting compliments and awkwardness at paying them - to properly socialize I always have to fight past the sense that compliments will similarly disorient other people, or perhaps be meaningless because coming from me. Where was I that I came to feel that? What is it inside me that still does? It's like you grow up sideways and, once an adult, waddle a whole uprooted continent of raw moment square footage around, some patches or other forever alarmed by the breezes stirred up with your going.
