Sometimes I am dogged by melancholia, especially on a bright sunny almost spring day. I feel obligated to be joyful, exuberant. I’m full of guilt because I’m not. It is all very silly because I have no obligations to be anything else except what I am. And who is to know really if I don’t tell? But, of course, I’m shouting it out now, aren’t I? Oh, well! I’m not sad just languid. This is just me so I should stop talking about it, relax and enjoy. I can be like Snoopy and fantasize about being the life of the party, the toast of the town, the starlet, the artist, the writer. People roll out the red carpet for me. Yea, I can dream on -being not who I am.

Fantasies can be uplifting. I had a chuckle tapping them out. That did the trick. I don’t have to live them. Sometimes I get in a mood – of not belonging. I have no tribe. I don’t have much in common with other people. It would make me unique – a good thing you would think. But in this case, I feel detached, disconnected, afloat without an anchor. Have you ever felt that way? It’s like you are standing alone in a crowd. They’re all talking to everyone else except you. You probably have since I’m know I am not unique or special.

It’s great to run across Steve McCurry’s blog post on reading when I’m feeling thus. I feel not so isolated or alone reading these words. We read to know we are not alone.
– C.S. Lewis. His photographs and quotes are beautiful and touching. I like to fantasize creating and writing such beautiful images and words. I like having those dreams to reach for. I want to work towards the unreachable/reachable star. It’s something I need, an anchor/stablizer. Otherwise, I would be adrift in this vast universe.

This is the kind of person I am. Serious, no changing that. I think I do have a lighter side – somewhere. Need I worry?