I can do it?

Sometimes I feel happiness after a long period without it and it's almost painful: like stepping out onto the grass in "The Great Divorce" by C.S. Lewis must feel like. I feel the need to make myself stop and bottle some of it away for later so I don't waste it all. I forget that I'm a confident courageous adventure-seeker, quick to laugh loudly and contagious in zeal. I forget that this is me:



Being with friends for New Years was revitalizing:

A story to start off the new year: a group of us were caught in the midst of a roman candle war and it was much like being caught in a war zone. There was diving into trees, bright explosions, hiding in the snow and one man down. I felt like an army medic crawling toward the yelling to find him in the woods and examine the damage: only minimal burns to the face after a firework flew over our backs and into his face as he tried to retreat into the woods. I felt as though I could be an army medic for a living.

We all sat around a table and played the card game Mao of which you are not allowed to discuss the rules or talk during the game, so I won't get into any detail here. We competed, yelled, failed to follow the rules, laughed, and I found that the painful happiness wasn't so painful anymore.

I have been singing, dancing, laughing, screaming, feeling, and being extreme. When I'm this happy I feel capable of anything: of forgiving, loving, and even mourning.

The picture is a WWII poster by J. Howard Miller called "We Can Do It!", commonly mistaken to be Rosie the Riveter but in fact being Geraldine Doyle. This picture was my theme and motivation my freshman year of college and was a constant reminder that I could be a powerhouse. I guess roman candles, card games and happiness remind me of that fact.

1/1/11