comfort

Jeb! I am going to begin each post that way from now on. Get used to it, appreciate it, crave it, become addicted to it, realize you have a problem, take the steps to quit, quit, detox, crave a little bit again, find a higher power, continue continue continue. Jeb!

I was all set to be melancholy, but then I had a sudden burst of rain hope and I felt okay. In fact, I felt as good as Jeb! must feel. Meg! Now I'm back to my melancholy ways, only because I had to turn on a light to write this. An indoor light at 9:20 AM. It shouldn't have to be this way! I do not do well with artificial light! I crave natural light more than I crave wasabi sandwiches, and if anyone knows me, they know I am almost sexually attracted to very carefully crafted wasabi sandwiches.

Buuuut... There's not much I can change right now except for my attitude. And my perspective. And my pants, because why am I wearing pants when I could be wearing no pants? One of the benefits of living alone, although I would definitely go pantsless around another person if it didn't make them uncomfortable.

Feeling uncomfortable. That might be the theme of my life. It sure has been these past few years. I either feel uncomfortable around Orem residents because, well, they are Orem residents or I feel uncomfortable up here in Salt Lake because I am not rich enough, hip enough, social enough. I wander around streets full of people I'll never meet (or meet their income bracket), casually glancing into their windows wishing I could have their cozy existence. I get greedy. I want that baby grand piano, despite not playing. I want those shelves full of first edition books. I know I need those KitchenAid appliances I'll never use because I'll eat out for every meal, never checking the bill.

But this isn't about wealth. I swear it's not. Money would just make things slightly easier. No, this is about belonging. This is about having a purpose, a reason to get out of the house other than oh-god-help-me-it's-too-depressing-in-this-dark-basement. In order to have a purpose, I must first find it. Maybe I have to search for it a little bit at first and then once I spot it, tackle it down and never let it out of my grip. I've got strong arms. I can do it.

I need to find more faith in myself in order to find this mysterious, life giving/saving purpose. So far in this "new chapter" of my life I have stumbled and sobbed, grown angry and weary, but I am still moving forward and I believe that alone is enough reason to celebrate.

So I'll celebrate with a wasabi breakfast sandwich. You know who else probably digs these wasabi concoctions? Jeb!