May 7: Off Your Stride, Difficult Thing to Maintain, Circus

Zaphod and Arthur and Ford are making introductions . . .

When you're cruising down the road in the fast lane and you lazily sail past a few hard-driving cars and are feeling pretty pleased with yourself and then accidentally change down from fourth to first instead of third thus making your engine leap out of your hood in a rather ugly mess, it tends to throw you off your stride in much the same way that this remark threw Ford Prefect off his.

Being thrown off your stride.  I get it.

Happiness is a difficult thing to maintain.  I have found that out recently.  Things come along that throw you off your stride.  Two months ago, it was the place where I've worked for close to 20 years closing.  Forever.  A month ago, it was starting a new job.  These last few days, it was stacks of final papers and exams to grade.  (That last one is also why I've been absent from this blog for the last two days.)

I submitted my final grades late last night.  I thought I would feel happier, freer, relaxed-er.  Instead, happiness fled again, threw me off my stride.  Darkness is sitting on my shoulders.  Just before I sat down to type this post, I tried to eat some cheese curds, which I normally love.  They tasted like oily, deep-fried rubber.  I'm tempted to try to some chocolate, but I have a feeling that I would experience similar results.

As I said, happiness has fled me.

If you've gotten this far, I know you're probably wondering the cause of this current bout of the blues.  You're also probably wondering where I got those cheese curds.  (For the record, it was Culver's.)  I am not ready to dissect and examine this depression I'm in.  So, please just accept this explanation . . . 

Happiness has fled me.

I struggled all day at work.  I went to the circus this evening with my family.  I struggled there, as well.  (Do NOT send me angry comments about the treatment of circus animals.  I don't have the energy to respond to them.)  As I sit here typing this post, I'm still struggling, because . . .

Happiness has fled me.

I will be taking things one day at a time.  May one hour or one minute at a time.  Whatever is required.  Despair seems like it's moved into my neighborhood, probably in the abandoned meth house on the corner.  I plan to keep myself locked away, and I don't plan to answer any knocks on the front door or rings on my home phone.

Depression is becoming a very familiar creature to me.  It sort of looks like a big, black, hairy elephant.

Happiness has fled Saint Marty.

Some joyful pics from the circus tonight . . .