The words that *always* spring to mind when I get this feeling are pathetically simple: "This is SOOOOOOO Cool!!!!!!"
Thought (and occasionally uttered, even) with all the school girlish sterotypical crap you can manage for a girl that was in hgih school when valley girls were dominating everything.
Which probably explains my preference for blonde hair and my over use of the term totally.
Like, totally, y'know?
The biggest problem is that had life been decent to me, I wouldn't feel this good, I wouldn't be so utterly blissful about it -- indeed, it would have lost a significant part of its luster, its wonder, but, then again, the causation of this joy would still be there -- I'd just be too damned jaded to realize it (and likely wouldn't have a fondness for blonde hair but still use totally way too much).
Life wasn't decent to me, though. Stuff happened, and I was given lemons.
A lifetime supply of them, in the metaphorical sense. A few real ones as well, which worked well as they provided me the metaphor that really can be said to guide large portions of my outlook and life choices.
There's a risk to this joyous experience, as well -- something that I constantly have to be challenged by, something that is always sitting there in the back of my mind, because some dumbass decided to use that joy to kinda sorta pretend to say something that he thought was profound about me.
Which is bullhockey, but since the people who have this gift already are, well, jaded about it, and fail to see the wonder of it because for them its still pretty freaking dim. In other words, they are like I would have been if life had been decent.
This thing changes priorities, refashions ideas, shifts focus and need.
And it makes me feel awesome, and I get to feel it every single day, many times throughout the day, and there is no better thing in this world except maybe being a parent.
Lots of downsides to the parent thing. Not that there aren't downsides to this wonderful thing, but it was something denied to me for so long, in so many ways, that the sheer awesomeness of it, the utterly gnarly wonderment of it, the all encompassing and sheer happiness and contentment that comes of it is all that much sweeter and more wonderful.
I'm greedy about it. I want it more, I want to have all of it, to experience everything, to romp and play and dance and sing and climb and run around and see the whole world as if it were new again (which is good advice for anyone doing anything, for seeing the world as if it was new again takes effort and not many people seem to be capable of such but those that are gain so much from it).
I am, as you can guess in my absurdist way, like a kid in the candy store with this. I am Charlie in the Chocolate Factory, and no Uncle Albert around to restrain me, and I still get to have the factory and I'll still explore and have adventures in the great glass elevator.
I am empowered by it, as well. It is a mighty thing, that makes people potent in ways that are only now starting to be seen, but its still too soon, still too early, and I will likely miss that day when the full glory of it is available.
There is a cost, as well. People want to tell me how to enjoy this. More often, even, how not to enjoy this. How to be careful and how to be this way and how to be that way and all of it violates one of the foundational rules I live by: Be Yourself.
Which is funny because it basically comes down to other people telling me how to be myself, or describing how it is that myself is not the way it is supposed to be, and how being myself should be this way as that way is just not them and totally not approvable.
I get to run in the rain. With Scissors. Because of this.
I get to remember what its like to stomp in a puddle or walk along a low and narrow wall and keep my balance.
I get to hang upside on jungle gyms.
I get to play dress up! (oh no, they say, no that one, they say, that one means you aren't right, you aren't good, you are sick and bad and terrible).
Its an amazing thing, and even as I write this and all the childish joy and effusive intensity of it flows out of me, I'm still saying that phrase because I'm still loving every second of it and I refuse
Utterly and totally and unequivocally
Refuse, denying it with all my heart,
To take it for granted.
Because this is not something I can take granted.
This is something I fought for.
It is something that still escapes me when I gaze for moments in preparation on occasion -- only to be captured once more out of the corner of my eye.
It is something that I get challenged on when I am on the internet, but, oddly enogh, not all that often in public unless I'm around someone who is, perhaps, a little less rapturous about it (or maybe just is different from me in some other way -- who cares, its not wrong or right).
It is magnificent.
This is soooo cool!!!
So totally awesome.
So mind numbingly wonderful.
At the same time
in the same way
in the same sense
Not all that startling, nothing that shakes the universe, though some fear it out of their own weaknesses.
Its not a fancy thing. It does not sparkle in the moonlight, nor flash one with beauty.
But for me, it is everything that truly matters.
And I cherish it.
I embrace it.
I revel in it, celebrating each moment, even when I'm bitching and moaning and cursing and complaning, its never really about this. Its about all the stuff around it, all the fingers in my pie, all the eyes on my egg, all the
trying to tell me that either I can't have this joy or its wrong to have this joy or this joy is false or it can't be.
That's what I whine about.
Never this. Never this one singularity, this point of pure and unfiltered totality.
Because it really is soooo totally cool, y'know?
I mean, like, fer sure...
I'm a girl.
All. As in everything. As in the sum totality of all that has meaning or value or importance.
And I think about how I used to wake up every day and be sad and then frustrated and then resentful and then angry and then carry that all through my whole day, being happy and still feeling all of that and being sad and still having it and doing the stuff that one does to live a life and still having all of it and coming to fear my anger because it was never just whatever stupid thing it was that made me angry but more, because all of that was there already and it just added into it, building into a massive rage that blinded.
And then how I would go to bed each day, every day, each night, every time, from a moment's nap to a long night's rest and think to myself how it was so damned unfair to have to deal with that and how I would beg and plead and pray and wish and bargain and cajole and hope and dream that the next morning would bring me this simple joy.
Where was my blue fairy, I would cry.
In the day, behind my facade of oh everything is all right, I would occasionally wonder if maybe I needed to ask the pink fairy. Since blue was for boys and pink was for girls, maybe I'd been asking the wrong one all those years.
So, as an adult, I would lie down secretly and I would ask the pink fairy to come and make me a real girl.
And cry myself to sleep.
Yearning, longing, dying to see what would happen in the morning.
And so now I am a girl.
A woman. Bereft of childhood so I endeavor to grasp it now, while I can and in the ways that I can.
One Little Girl, as I described recently.
And its wonderful.
For me, there is nothing more grand. Nothing more sacred. Nothing more profane, Nothing more worth being than this.
This is completeness.'
This is the lemonade of my lemons.
All I needed was a little sugar, for tears had given me all the water I'll ever need...
and then some.
There's something in my eye.
(This was originally published on my own blog. I was asked to present it here by someone I pay close attention to.)