A Certain Kind Of Melancholy

Hmmm...

It is a known fact (at least known by me and sometimes assumed to have been noticed by others) that I have by bouts of what we would call an old school sort of melancholy. It's not depression, although I reckon I have those moments too in one way or the other. It's sort of just eh.

I'm happy right now. Happy for a lot of reasons. But this past week I've just felt off. Not bad, not sad, not mad. Just off. I feel like writing fairie tales and hanging out in old churches. I want to fashion a wand out of old matchsticks and pretend that it gives me magical powers. I want to hunt frogs in a pond where snapping turtles snap at your toes and large dark crows perch in the trees threatening to poke out your eyes if you stare for too long. I want to find a donkey and walk next to him in a field of thorny vines. I want to float. I want to fly. I want to be the highest of high. But I want to do it all without actually having to do anything. Or go anywhere. Or talk to anyone.

Do you see what I'm saying?

Off.

And hence the melancholy.

Maybe it's just an excess of black bile. Maybe it's God. Maybe it's just me.

Yeah. It's probably just me. Like always.

I've had too many moments lately. I know, I know, one second I complain about the lack of moments the next I complain about too many moments the entire time you have no idea what kind of moments I'm talking about.

It's hardly fair.

But try and keep up.

As a side note which encapsulates the last week for me: several months ago I said something to two friends of mine. It was an observation, a thought, more a suspicion than a fair guess. The only way to prove this would have been to directly ask the other person involved. This was not an option. It was such a minor thing though that it didn't really matter either way. Last night, through a strange series of events, I found out that my suspicion was correct. It was a weird feeling. It was something so inconsequential that I shouldn't even have remembered it. The only reason I did is because I thought I was right and had no way to know for sure. If there's anything I like more than being right, it's being certain. And so last night's validation of my suspicions about something that happened months ago was nice because it let me know I'm still sharp enough, but unfortunate because it was something I would have rather been wrong about.

It also led to a discussion of what I'm doing next, and the fantastic revelation that I'm not sure. I had a plan (and not a bad plan at that) I had seen a lot of what was coming, and I was either ready or getting ready for all of it. Last night I decided to toss most of that. Decided to reboot a little bit. I'm trying to pull out of a decidedly un-funk like funk with the realization that maybe this isn't a funk, maybe I'm supposed to be this sort of happy and maybe this me I am right now is the good me. And here I am thumbing my nose at it anyway, saying thank you very much but I'll take my chances with the little ol' me that I've always known. You go hang out with King, Rigby, Jones, Kong, The Hob, The Beast and the rest of them. I'm sticking around for a little while longer.

Funny how life works like that.