Sadness in Joy

A year or so ago, I wrote a piece entitled “Sadness in Joy.” In it, I attempted to explain how even in the most joyous moments in my life an undercurrent of sadness is always present. Today, I read another writer’s way of expressing what I so often feel. Alain de Botton puts it this way:

“A perplexing consequence of fixing our eyes on an ideal is that it may make us sad. The more beautiful something is, the sadder we risk feeling...Our sadness won’t be of the searing kind but more like a blend of joy and melancholy: joy at the perfection we see before us, melancholy at an awareness of how seldom we are sufficiently blessed to encounter anything of its kind. The flawless object throws into perspective the mediocrity that surrounds it. We are reminded of the way we would wish things always to be and how incomplete our lives remain.”

The show must go on

I’m starting to hate every smile I fake. Whether for a stranger or for my closest friend, every one hurts a little more. Because on days like today, a smile makes me a liar, a laugh makes me a fraud. But not to worry — it's merely clinical, with its own special section in the DSM-IV I’m sure, that gives multiple steps to the appropriate cure.

Oh, God

Tonight I was listening to Manchester Orchestra's song "Shake It Out" and found the lyrics that brought me home.

I felt the Lord begin to peel off all my skin,
and I felt the wave within reveal the bigger mess that you can't fix.

Oh God, you've got to shake it out, shake it out,
You've got to break it down, break it out.

Allusion

I'm starting to think that holding off is not an option.

And so it seems

You can't resist her.
She's in your bones.
She is your marrow
And your ride home.

You can't avoid her.
She's in the air
In between molecules of
oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Only in dreams
We see what it means.
Reach out our hands.
Hold onto hers.
But when we wake
It's all been erased.
And so it seems
Only in dreams.

You walk up to her,
Ask her to dance.
She says, "Hey, baby, I just might take the chance."
You say, "It's a good thing
That you float in the air.
That way there's no way I will crush your pretty toenails into a thousand pieces."

Only in dreams.

Tough

The Krav Maga training center that I go to is in Five Points, which is a bit of a rough neighborhood. Developers are trying their best to gentrify the area, but I don’t think that’s working just yet. As soon as a new row of fancy mod townhouses are finished, they get tagged with graffiti. Homelessness, drugs, and drunks are still quite prevalent there.

Tonight as I was leaving Krav, I saw a black cat trotting across the road, and I wondered if cats have it as rough in Five Points as the people do. He was a pretty big cat, and he had a bit of a swagger to his gait, which made me think there might be a reason he’s the only cat I’ve ever seen roaming around there.

Once

Falling slowly, eyes that know me
and I can't go back.