Wednesday, 13 January 2010

My cup runneth over... (not a boob joke)


Did you know that happiness isn't very funny? I'd never thought about it much, but it seems to be the cause of my recent writers block (well that, and the ever present mindnumbing lazyness). It seems that I'm at my most productive when I'm being mysanthropic, taking the piss out of my life and everything that is shit about it. But what to do when something, or actually someone comes into your life, carrying buckets of joy, making it very difficult to get worked up about the little things?

Just weeks ago I was a worried mess, afraid that the evil that is cancer was clawing it's way back into my family. And now my parents are happily and healthily roaming New Zealand, and the biggest thing on my mind is the beautiful soul who bought me a typewriter. Just like that. He got me a real, old fashioned, Remmington typewriter. Because I said I wanted to write more. And now it's sitting there staring at me. A big, orange, gesture of kindness (and perhaps a dare to put my efforts where my mouth is).

Honestly there must be more than a few screws loose with this one, because after just two weeks I brought him home for Christmas to meet my weirdass family, and he still likes me. I spilled coffee all over his mattress, and he still likes me. I ambushed him with my entire hockey team, and was so hungover the next day that I turned green in the shower and had to exchange his embrace for that of the toilet bowl, and he still likes me. And just last weekend, I forced him outside on his balcony, naked, in the snow, and he STILL likes me...

There probably are many ways to make fun of him, of us, but I refuse to do so. Nauseating as we may be at our worst, this past month has been the biggest gift and as long as it may last I'm going to enjoy the hell out of it. Luckily, me, myself and I are still fair game, so feel free to laugh at me for just now falling off my bike and hitting my head (hard) on the ice, whilst on my way to visit a friend who's home sick with a concussion. Double points for irony there Murphy! I'm also still dirt poor, have no clean clothes, just opened a newspaper to discover the world is still in shambles and nope... doesn't work... still happy!