What a beautiful day. I'm happy again. Happy! What a delightful sensation to notice. I was cruising around and singing to music; feeling hilarious and fantastically alive. I am a bulletproof goofball jackass and I would never trade my life for any other. I have a giant van that wears a tall fiberglass hat, and it booms and rattles on bumps. I turn the music up to the cusp of crackling speakers, and I blast tunes high above the mournful little cars.
I arrived early at a library with a secret sale, feeling confident I'd be the only one there. I contacted the reference librarian, who oversees the selling of donated books, and she got back to me with the intelligence I sought. Fill a bag for three dollars: Black Friday until the end of the year. The shelves are overcrowded. They need weird heroes with lazy beards and wet armpits to shovel the books into vans. I had thirty-six coffees and the heart of a champion. I was there early and ready to begin.
I don't know why I'm happy. No! I haven't dissected why I wasn't before. Recently, I was alive in a cold dark cloud. I'm going to point to music as the answer. I believe that's importantly correct. Many tracks daily, and again I feel alive. Second only to music is Getting Shit Done. I am seeing my work as a project - and my focus on my projects could burn holes through wood. I am reaching goals and loving my job. I nearly cringe at those words "loving my job," but I'm going to leave them, because at this time it's true.