The anatomy of happiness

If I had a million dollars I'd buy you some art, like a Picasso or a Garfunkel.

"Warm" is a good way to describe happiness, "fuzzy" perhaps not so much.

Sometimes I'll hold conversations in my head just to pass the time. Not in a schitzophrenic way, but in the more hypothetical sense where I devise a question to ask someone. Sometimes I'll try to imagine what their answer might be, but more often I answer that question myself, just in case if I decide to ask that question some day, I'll know how to respond if they ask me the question back. I think the key to this exercise is mustering up the courage to actually ask these questions some day.

According to sources I'm "supposed to be funny", and yet when I sit down to write in this thing my wit sometimes leaves me and I'm left with little to say other than obvious and often mundane things about my life. Here are a few examples:

-I'm feeling all grow'd up with my new apartment and freedom, but the full reality of being "on my own" has not yet sunk in.

-The boy keeps me smiling always and I can't quite figure out what it is that I did to deserve him. At the same time, I worry about thinking "like that", but sometimes I just feel so warm and debatably fuzzy I can't help it.

-I got hired as a server at Friday's and while I'm a bit worried about all the work it will take to train, I remember some of the waiters I've had and realize it can't be all that hard.

-Life with Brian seems like it will work out rather nicely. We spent about an hour the other night just lying around and talking the easy conversation of friends.

-I miss Linda a surprising amount, but random phone calls are a suitable replacement. She provided me with the quote of the week: "I wouldn't say that Geology makes me want to kill myself, but I'll do what I have to."

That's about everything even vaguely worthy of note. I will leave you with a thought that has been keeping me occupied when my brain has time to wander. How do you know it's love? And furthermore, how do you get over the intense, crippling fear of the sheer magnitude and responsibility that word carries?

I'd buy you a monkey,
Cathi

PS: Haven't you always wanted a monkey?