A cynic's glass of fresh.

It's been a while since I've reverted back to any sort of comfortable grouching (owing to the fact that I've been way too happy). I realise that the most resillient of emotions bear better under the rushing undercurrents of life's expectancies- and do I have a float or not? Happiness, by the way, isn't one of them. (My rationale is that it's because one is too close to slipping into the oblivion of 'it will always be this way') I've come so close to bimbotism today I've scared myself looking in the mirror.

For a couple of hours, I hung- the threshold between stoic sanity and inane IMH-childish behaviour. I chose neither in the end- I ran. After my cowardice at precisely 8.46 am, tickticktock, I continued to retrace the corner turns of my mind, in dire refusal to reproportion reality in case I got kicked out of it in the process of 'fairness'. I have a headache and no lunch. I feel, to be quite accurately honest, like a can of Dr. Pepper in the bin, with little aluminium bits sticking out everywhere and wishing I didn't smell so bad. (Why Dr. Pepper, you ask? I just relish the idea of being a cool sounding drink that tastes bad).

Then the sounding of war cries. Questions are always inconvenient at times like this- being wonderwoman becomes a hazard when her own powers are pitted against her. If I had ever wondered (in a snot-woggling self righteous manner) how people could bring themselves to steal/sell themselves/kill/hurt for money, I can see why now. For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I could have shirked responsibility the way the person behind me did. I make no pretence as to my dwindling integrity- I've cashed in $900 for good values and well worth the while, but no one said I had to like it.

Sure, things happen in life that catch you unawares of your absurdities and insensibilities, but to be honest, this is one of the first times I've been caught out. Everyone says it's a lesson to learn; I want to bite a door handle because no one knows that better than I at this point. On the cynical, sadistic bright side, tomorrow will be someone else's turn to learn some other lesson. In order to retain a shred of niceness, I hope it won't be as rib-nudgingly painful as mine.

Every now and then you realise how much on the edge of a cliff you are and you turn to God, not knowing whether to give thanks or to cry. Who knows how long I'll continue to teether on this ever curving tightrope? Hopefully another 70-80 years. I asked for balance last year and I got it. This year, I think I'll ask for desire. Because if i had a choice, I would spin the world backwards so I could stagnate in my current position and get my thoughts together without the world moving so damn fast. Then I would blatantly take advantage of the centrifugal force and go to sleep for about.. ohh.. 2 years?

Why do I feel like I'm missing something? Some secret powder, ray X, crystal type thing that everyone has that makes them stay calm at all times and swallow everything that comes their way. Is chocolate some cheap imitation I've been conned to buy? Well, COCOA IS A BEAN and beans are vegetables. So there, you chemical inhaling, powder burning people.

I stumbled upon one of cuzzy's friend's blogs. Her cynicism is worth applauding- my own reviving after about 2 months of suffocation. Cuzzy and her friends are all geniuses, by the way. A cynic is a pessimist with a sense of humour, and a closet optimist. One cannot be openly flower-power positive. In case the inevitable happens and the bump to reality isn't cushioned with "i knew it", and "I told you so." And So I'm Back, From Outer Space!

"life is mostly froth and bubble but two things stand on their own- kindness in another's trouble and courage in your own."- I pretend to have enough of one, and obviously don't have the other.

I'm a little more resigned to things now. I will just push past it and here is where my name comes in handy- twisted by the most lyrical of cynics: Que Sera Sera.

"I had two heart attacks, an abortion, did crack... while I was pregnant. Other than that, I'm fine."- Amelie Poulain. Took the words right out of my mouth, honey. No, it's not half as bad as I make it out to be (only because it happened to me not you). And I'm still drug-free and sex-free (I make it sound like a crime). Hmm. I used to be different. Nicer. Phoey.

What I wouldst for a little solace, which has turned to new found terror.

Oh, the many things to be thankful for.