I realized that I often clump disparate emotions. Many times I’ve ended a post with a string of conflicting proclamations: I am happy, I am sad, I am tired, I am excited, I am nervous, etc.
That is how it is though, right? I swear I am my saddest when I am my happiest. And it isn’t the sadness that comes with knowing happiness is a fleeting, elusive beast although that sadness exists too and rears its head every now and then. Rather, for me anyway, sadness and happiness are linked in a confusing and yet absolutely right way. When I am sad I am happy. When I am happy I am sad. Nothing is easy but then, if it was, it wouldn’t mean as much. I think the best way I can describe this dual-feeling is the pang of homesickness that appears in the happiest of moments, homesickness that writhes in your gut even when you are at home. We must be sick for something else.
Anyway, I started waitressing. I’m grateful to have found a job however temporary (or maybe not) and grateful for the experience. Happy/sad.