This is going to sound weird, but I've caught myself not worrying lately. I've caught myself not thinking about things that could and would and probably should trouble me and instead, I've been enjoying things. This, of course, worries me.
Why should I be so happy at a time where my bills are about to start get higher and the world's about to get colder and my most important faults are still my most important faults and not things of the past. I haven't gone a long way in a year, and yet, I'm happy.
Why is that? Nothing's really changed. I'm the same old me. I still get way too excited about blu-ray deals around this holiday time of the year and I still get grumpy if someone messes with my stuff or plays loud music when I'm trying to sleep. I don't feel like I've grown up any. Why do I get to be happy?
And worse yet, why is it that I'm not writing except to fulfill my blog schedule? Is it the being happy that makes me not feel the need to write, or should I be concerned that it's the not writing that's making me happy? What if I can't be happy while I'm trying to make things?
Of course, at this point, it's probably just my overactive brain looking for something to do. It gets a little bored when I'm happy because there's nothing to pick apart and destroy and put back together.
It's almost got me wishing for some turmoil. Maybe then I'd feel like I'm accomplishing stuff on a daily basis instead of just coming home and putting myself in front of a TV. I'd like to make things again. I'd like to call myself a writer again.
Maybe happiness is really just laziness with a smile on.
Either way, something's got to change. I just hope it isn't my attitude. I'm on the right side of that one lately. For once.