September 30, 2004

• There is a part of me that secretly (or not so) yearns for and envies contentment. I suspect it in others on the playground in the mornings and in coffee shops and “about town” and, maybe I’m just buying into other people’s big charade or falling prey to somebody else’s medicated ennui, but some days it seems so much easier to be just happy with the day-to-day instead of constantly overcoming and dealing with a backburner that is always full and a front burner that is always boiling over. Why do I have to want to do so much?!?! Sometimes it just seems like it would be so much easier to like Survivor or Regis and talk about it at the grocery store to complete strangers (strangers no more!), turn on the radio and hear a song you like (stop trying to write better ones), go to the polls and vote for someone you believe in (as if you believed in any of them), pick up your child from a school you trust, drive around in a big dumb car with bells and whistles you feel no guilt driving, make lots of money doing things you can’t really justify…wait…I think I’ve just discovered why I have a sister. She got all the mind-numbing contentment and I got all the angst. Damn. How did that happen? Can I settle for contentment within my own role? That would be okay, too. I’m content to be less than glamorous. I’m content to be less than rich. I’m content to be an adequate mom instead of Super Mom. Somehow I don’t feel that rosey glow I see on other faces around town. My rosey glow is genetic and is more likely brought on by stress or rage. Am I content to be the malcontent?

  To be stupid, selfish, and have good health are three requirements for happiness, though if stupidity is lacking, all is lost.
  - Gustave Flaubert

  ah, there it is. I feel better already.

  Kim

  • 12:29 am
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