Leaving that much negativity laying around seems like a bad idea

That about sums it up.

But, seriously, I do wish I wasn't writing such negative posts. I say to myself "Wait until it passes. Just shut up."

I do know that there are good days, good moments, even perfect moments, and yeah, I could just write about those. Is that honest? Nope.

Why do I care so much about honesty? I can't help myself. I've kept too many secrets for too long in this lifetime and I won't be quiet any longer.

I won't disavow my negative emotions. I am edging towards apology, and I am resisting it.

So, I'll just change the subject. This morning I (thankfully) had enough energy to teach an introduction to lace knitting workshop. I believe a good time was had by all. I was exhausted and everyone had a good laugh when I could not remember how to do a stitch I had written the instructions for. I was sure I had written them incorrectly. I couldn't even understand them! I've done that stitch hundreds of times! I apologized and said we'd have to move on 'cause I was having a brain cramp. We never came back to it. A woman said it made her feel better to know that "the expert" sometimes couldn't figure stuff out.

I tried to pack too much info information into too short a time. When it was over, I realized I had forgotten to teach everyone one very basic (and important) thing! Hopefully, everyone will figure it out. I certainly gave everyone enough after class material to last a good long time. That alone was worth the price of admission. I'm glad to see I'm past the days when I would have been beating myself over the head over this one omission (even if it was a biggie).

In spite of another night of interrupted sleep, I had fun teaching the class. I was a bit more serious than I usually am, but I saw plenty of smiles, so it was good.

Life has it's bright moments, even in the midst of the worst times. Of course it does. I knew that yesterday, too.

I vow not to become embittered. I should give voice to that sentence every fifteen minutes from here on out. I am afraid that even if I do, I may still become bitter, or already am. Regardless, I can pretty much assure you there will be more miserable posts to come, and also some nice ones. This evening's supper was a mixture of sweet and bitter (bitter herbs, celery, apples, rice, and tamari-roasted sunflower seeds), just like life.

There was certainly a lot of cliche in this post. Ah well.

Painting note: Gustave Courbet's self-portrait "The Desperate Man." 1844-45. I mostly think "Johnny Depp" when I see this painting (well, since Johnny Depp arrived on the scene). Before that, I didn't like Courbet. I've wanted to use this portrait to grace some post for ages. It would have fit the last one. On the other hand, I don't find it honest, as much as I enjoy it. This face of desperation feels campy to me. Maybe that's the other reason I think "Johnny Depp." Still. It holds some fascination, and I do feel rather hyperbolic these days (oh, can't you tell?)

Coming soon (hopefully): A post that isn't about me, me, pain, me, and more me, me, and pain. Ah, it feels good to joke about it.