Happy. Honestly, happy.
2003-02-17

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Kegboy's mages.
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Penny Arcade
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I...

I've been so happy lately.

So calmly, quietly, contently, satisfied, happy.

I haven't been loathing myself for not doing enough, for stagnating.

I haven't been loathing myself for being bad at anything. I haven't once, yet, this year, bemoaned the all-too-familiar mantra: "not good enough".

Not the best, not the greatest, not as good as I will be when I put more work and practice into it, but never, these past weeks, have I heard my father's doubts ring out in my head.

I have not hated myself for my inadequacies. I have finally, fully believed the thousand sparks of wisdom that Steven and I began telling each other in those first emails that developed our friendship.

I've been encountering goals which I am capable of telling myself that I have time to accomplish, something that has never happened before -- and this willingness to wait and do things properly I have a rousing suspicion comes from the proud knowledge that my plate is full -- not the fear that I am incapable of doing as much and as hard as I once could.

This distinction allows me to smile at myself in mirrors, allows me to sit with my shoulders straight without having to force false pride into them.

I haven't been hurting anyone, been hurt by anyone, regret nothing, there has been no sadness other than sweet sorrow and surmountable difficulties stuffed full with immense learning opportunities.

I have been unafraid to voice my fears and to iron out miscommunications.

There has been as much laughter as ever along the higest points of the rollercoaster, and some of it so kind and thoughtful, and the moments where the laughter was angry and reactionary, again, lessons were learned and worlds were changed.

And, so very significantly, for the first time in my life --

-- I've been happy coming home. I've been driving my car up and out the familiar ramp of the parking lot, looking forward to the singing lessons tape and the rush-hour drive along Lakeshore towards whatever activity Dave and I have planned after I run up our front steps, kiss him hard, and we steal away into our evening.

I've been happy coming home.

I've been coming home.

I have a home.

And somehow this city itself, with its slowly turning familiar streets, and charming idiosyncrasies and quirks all its own, is becoming home. Not the latest city on the list of places I want to learn to understand, but home.

Not too cold in the winter, but with enough snow to satisfy the winter queen in my spirit, enough sun that even February has not yet begun to tear at my dimples.

Looking at my five year plan, I am suddenly almost ahead of the pseudo-game, pseudo only because I take it so seriously.

I don't take winning the game seriously, but playing it. I play this game with so much of myself.

And recently, each part of me has been rewarded.

From my first ever box of chocolates on my first ever official Valentine's day date, when did I become the girl that someone buys chocolate for? to the words that have been spilling from Dave's beautiful lips, to the sheer feeling of belonging, usefulness, need of work.

I am doing something that might be improving the quality of life for people.

I am helping people.

Indirectly, and directly every time Connie or Sharon or Stuart or Michael or Keith grin wide toothy grins at my hurtling opinions.

When the execs take notes on caffeine-fuled rants of a monstre-at-odds-with-society, when my assistant looks at me with huge "are you sure it's going to be okay" eyes and breathes a sigh of relief at my assurances.

My words count. My spirit counts. I count.

These words fall at odd angles from my mouth. I've never said them before.

And strange as it sounds from the ego of a self-proclaimed alien species of monstre, strange as it sounds from a geek-girl surrounded by the too-easily drooling masses of geek-guys, this new found feeling of importance is unlike so many desperate attempts to generate a field of self-confidence.

I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how many factors I am even aware of, I don't know if I want to blame it all on a beautiful and utterly new sort of relationship -- it certainly is a factor, and I don't know if I want to blame it on the next step up in my career and I don't know if I want to blame it on the drugs or the physical fitness or the way I've been successful in watching my vegetable intake.

I don't know what to pin this on, I just know one thing.

I am beginning to feel good in my skin.

Really, really good.

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Last few Rants:

I guess this is goodbye. - 11:57 a.m. , 2005-02-10
Endorphins, stress, and magickal mystery - 5:07 p.m. , 2005-02-02
stress, incoming - 4:42 p.m. , 2005-01-28
heaving great happy sighs - 3:05 p.m. , 2005-01-24
Imposter syndrome strikes again - 1:20 p.m. , 2005-01-19