Weee!

A magical thing (wondrous, exceptional) happened a few weeks ago. The exact date escapes me (maybe it was a gradual, multi-day experience), but, at some point I recognized that I am not stressed about anything.

I search for things, trust me I do. I dig deep into the folds in my brain, and while I can come up with a long laundry list of things to drive me insane, none of them do. The stress junkie part of me holds up a nugget of horrible possibility, taunting me into believing I can actually control its potential existence and I am successfully and effortlessly walking away from it.

Holy shit people, do you know me? If you do, you'll know how earth shattering this is. Remember that scene in Amelie, in which her date is just a hair late and in a matter of seconds she's concocted a story miles long in which there was a car crash, an abduction and an impossible solution? As that scene unfolded in the theater, years ago, my then-partner Ross gently grabbed my hand and laughed BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I DID ALL THE TIME.

But, you see, I'm not doing that anymore.

HA! Ha!

Weeeee!

Below is what has been playing in my head for days now....