Well, This, Is Strange

So, for the first weekend like ever in this godforsaken town, I apparently am booked up with the socializing. Like, tonight, I went out, and like, tomorrow night, I've also got an engagement. None of this is because of Grand Schemes Involving the Online Dating Universe (indeed, I've not done that since last spring). No. I'm talking actual socializing in normal, friend-type situations two nights in a row. Either the apocalypse is near, or things really are coming together quite nicely.

And I've got other plans on Tuesday evening. Again, with the normal, friend-type plans. What the heck is going on here? Just what the heck?

In other news, I got a call from First Love this morning because he'd read the blog (I told him about it last year maybe? I feel he now reads it instead of bothering to call me a lot of the time) and he was so excited that I seem so happy, from what he's been reading. And what was weird? I hadn't really realized that I was - seriously - super-happy until he pointed it out. I mean, I've recognized I'm happy in individual blog posts and such, but no, seriously, I'm totally, actually happy. And it's not just about a new kitten or a trip abroad or something - it's like an all-over sort of happiness.

• I'm happy with my job.
• I'm happy with my research (which, yes, is to do with the job, but which is also it's own individual part.)
• I'm happy with my mom, and stepdad, respectively, and love that this is the year of family travels.
• I'm happy with my kitten-to-human ratio.
• I'm happy with my friends.
• I'm happy with my weirdo friend-though-more-than-friend-though-not-quite-something-else.
• I'm happy with myself.
  

I'm happy with my fucking life.

This, I feel, I should note. It's easy to use such a space as this for bitching and moaning. And I'm content with doing that much of the time, and I do think that the bitching and moaning is valuable in its way. And it's hard to write about being happy without sounding like a tool, and so a lot of times people don't do it. Or at least I don't do it for that reason. And I often think that choosing not to do so is, overall, a wise decision as a writer, as often as a reader I feel like people who blab on and on about how great their lives are boring and stupid. And, dude, a boring and stupid Dr. Crazy? Totally not possible.

But you know what? When you are truly - really and truly - happy with all the parts? Well, it's worth it to acknowledge that. And it's not being a tool and it's not lame. It's important, ultimately, because how often does that happen? In my experience, not very. And so sure, I'm sure I'll be bitching and moaning again - probably tomorrow or the next day - but let's just note it for the record that right now, indeed, I am happy. Indeed.