the horrible prettiness
It’s Friday night and I feel SUPER. Really super. In spite of my head nearly exploding today. Earnings. The cheddar. The cheez whiz microwave explosion. Every single time. no matter what. No matter where. No matter who. It is always a fucking scramble.
But it’s okay. Because I am so happy to be where I am. Not just because I am operating in the industry I am passionate about, but also because I am working with such brilliant, funny, cool, fundamentally good people. Sure, I’ve only been there for 6 months but I know already. I will be with these guys for a good long run if the fates have it. They are my people, my tribe.
This will make some people barf. Either the new aginess, or the optimism. But fuck it. My cosmic energy has shifted. I am lighter. Like a girl. The world smiles and talks to me a lot. Most of it’s good, though occasionally it’s an embittered partisan yelling at me from a speeding van. But I digress. I feel like I am in one of those cheesy movies where the lead character has a spell put on them and the universe is grand. Until …
No. I will not go there. I will not invoke that Irish mindset … the bad things ever lurking over your shoulder.
The Irish say your trouble is their
trouble and your
joy their joy? I wish
I could believe it;
I am troubled, I’m dissatisfied, I’m Irish.
— Marianne Moore