If The Song Is "Shiny Happy People," Then Why Am I So Damned Sad?

On the way to work this morning, I picked up my little girl at the vet.

She wasn't really there, of course, just the contents of what she had been encased in a porcelein urn. Where she really was at the moment is a subject of debate in the realm of theologians or those more highly trained in the psychic arts than I.

It's a strange thing, cremation. Cremation is a process, whereby an individual is reduced to the basic elements in a matter of a few minutes. Just a close of a door, push of a button, *whoosh* and that's it.

I didn't actually know how I would feel when I picked up Katy. The wait for her return seemed to drag on for a painful stretch of time. I had thought that perhaps I would have been able to move beyond the grief or the pain, but I realized just this morning that I had denied myself the basic truth that I hadn't fully let go.

I had stopped being angry about the circumstances already, but the feeling of lonliness had lingered. Compounding the feeling I was having was the recent revelation that one of my best friends (and Quality Television co-conspiritor) was seriously considering a move out of state with his girlfriend and also is considering hanging up our collaborative creative efforts altogether.

Granted, we hadn't done as much with QTV this year as we should have. We both looked at how events in our lives this past year have prevented that.

At least his reasons are ones that he chose in the path to happiness that he is on. I cannot fault my pal for his decision to be happy, nor would I attempt to throw a stumbling block in his way. If he's ready to move on to other things then so be it.

Seeing him with his girlfriend just really throws into light how extra squishy happy in love he is. I'm happy for him, sure, but at the same time I feel a little like one of the other Beatles when Yoko arrived on the scene. Maybe not to that degree, but I do admit that I feel a bit like Ringo sometimes.

Apart from this single post, I keep my mouth shut around the house about how I'm feeling. What would be the point otherwise?

I've been learning a lot about letting things slide off my back. I try not to stack up a lot of emotional baggage, but sometimes the conveyor belt runs a little faster than I can move to throw each new piece of luggage onto a connecting one-way flight to Anchorage.

I spoke months ago about how my personal Phoenix was going through the rebirth process. I thought I had just about figured through that and was enacting a new plan when I find out now that even THAT plan has altered substantially.

Life is funny like that.

Even the newborn Phoenix is apt to go up in flames, so it seems. Good thing there is another rebirth that follows!

I drove to work listening to REM's "Out Of Time" album. While one of my favorites of long ago, this album inevitibly drags out memories of when I was a sophmore in high school. Oddly enough, I usually skip "Losing My Religion" and "Shiny Happy People" and just headed straight for the deeper cuts of the album.

The first was simply played out too much in my brain, the second ... just too happy for its own good. Too goddamned "Shiny Happy" for my tastes.

And yet this trip in to work I listened to Shiny Happy at least three or four times. I don't know why, I just did.

Perhaps it was my brain trying to cheer me up because of the 'passenger' in the seat next to me.

Perhaps it was my emotional nerve center trying to inject some happiness in my skull to prevent me from drifting into the realm of one of those whiny emokids that you hear so much about. The ones who thrive on drama because it gives them a boost to their self esteem to be so depressed and break into tears because someone dipped their long hair in an inkwell in the third grade. (Heh. Not a bit likely.)

Or, just perhaps, it was my brain trying to tell me to just shut up and enjoy the song. Let the world sort itself out for awhile and savor the moment. You may not exactly enjoy hearing the happy annoying tune, but it sure is a whole hell of a lot better than sitting here alone in the silence.