I woke up too early this morning, really, and couldn't get back to sleep and so I got up and it's a beautiful cold morning here. Stunningly so.
Mr. Moon had left me a sweet note by the coffee pot for Valentine's Day and I know that both of us are feeling a great deal of stress because we do not do Valentine's Day well. Hell, I just don't do holidays well. Birthdays, Easter, Christmas, New Years. None of them are looked upon with any sort of joy for me and Christmas, as we all know, is enough to send me into a deep spiral of mental illness and Easter usually calls forth my most virulent anti-Christian rantings wherein I rage about how the story of the crucifixion and resurrection of God's so-called "only begotten son" rips off with bloody intent the true and obvious miracle of spring.
Valentine's? I don't even know what I have against this particular holiday although it probably has something to do with cultural expectations versus reality.
Or perhaps it goes back to grade-school and that goddam decorated box we were all supposed to put our pathetic little punched-out cards in and how the cute little girl got about one thousand Valentine's although there were only twenty kids in the class and the fat, ugly girl with glasses got maybe four.
I was that one who got four.
Anyway, la-di-dah. This is Mr. Moon's and my thirtieth Valentine's Day together and we've survived all of them so far and I suppose we'll survive this one as well.
Survival. God. It just seems like that's all I talk about these days. I'm really tired of this shit. I'd really like to move on to another level. A higher level. One in which anticipation or enjoyment or even, dare I say it? celebration might play a part. I know, I know...to dream the impossible dream.
Because the fact of the matter is, I have as much or more than most people living or dead have ever had to be grateful for. To enjoy, to celebrate, and quite possibly, more to anticipate. Not that the dead can anticipate but you know what I mean. And hell- maybe?
Well, today offers an opportunity to ask for a fucking pill to help me with that little issue.
We shall see how that goes.
In the meantime, here's my heart. My tattered old heart, probably threatened by plaque-build-up as we speak, still though, beating with regularity and as far as I know, efficiency. I offer it to all of you who come here to read, and just as with my husband- I have no idea why you stick around but thank all of my lucky stars you do. And for your words. All of them. ALL OF THEM.
Happy Friday, y'all.