And again, that incling urge to grab a herd of thoughts and put them down on paper (or screen) before they go and graze elsewhere. Today's trail started, as usual, with something that has absolutely nothing to do with writing.. or rather, it has to do with writing, but not with thoughts, oh, anyway..
I am sitting on the sofa, its very hot, and I really don't feel like standing up and walking to the fan to switch it on. So I let it stand there, staring at me, blankly, like only a fan can do. The sofa is comfortable, and on the tv there's Michael Buble'. He's stunning an audience in New York. And what do you think ruined this moment? Hm, nothing really, but something did stear a little bit of irritation in my perfect moment; there on the screen, in that little, horizontal box with the channel number and the time, and the title of the programme, I see, written in bold print as if nothing were wrong, and as if grammer was just a myth similar to that of the minotour but more tragic, MICHALE BUBLE. Now, ok, I can close an eye for the missing apostrophe. But, can I close the other eye for completely ruining the melody to the sound of his name? Mikalej! I mean, they didn't have to write an essay about the poor guy, they just had to write his name! And still they wrote it wrong. *sigh* (and in the back of the back of my mind I am thinking, that mistake is typical of me...)
Ah, anyway, that was my anchor. The sudden inclination towards the two paragraphs I just finished. It's still hot. And I want to talk about happy endings. A romantic story, or a film can have a happy ending. One. Only. No matter how hard you try, the story has to end, just that once. Life, people, is thankfully not a story. It doesn't have to follow rules, and even if there were any rules, it would still proudly refuse to acknoledge their existance, let alone pass by them. It starts, but along the line it has many endings, even after death. People still carry each other around in their hearts and in their memories. I am growing up, and blooming slowly into an adult, yet, I still am believing heartly in happy endings. Yes, life gives you sour grapes, plenty of them indeed; but I'm sure that we all get at least one really happy ending, that at least just for one morning makes us wake up with a jump and a warm fuzzy feeling in our stomach. We live for these moments even if we don't admit it, and it is with anticipation of these moments that we scrape through tough experiences.
And happy endings come in different shapes and sizes to suite all our needs. The classic they-lived-happily-ever-after are the rarest because they are dull, and artificial. But even finding your garage keys at the bottom of your handbag and saving yourself 2 flights of steps is a mini happy ending.
Actually, "ending" isn't even the right word for it. An ending .. stops. The warm fuzzy feeling continues, and blends away. Its more like a happy BLending: a nice event that blends into your life and gives it a boost.
So with this I conclude that no matter how old I get, I will never, and I say "never" and I stamp my foot firmly, give up on warm fuzzy feelings. Life is working for those moments, and them moment I stop living for them, I will die.
*simmer*
