Death and Happy Birthday to the Bourgeoisie

Sometimes I feel like those of us who know that the world doesn't have to be the way it is are the ones who have the most difficulty staying happy (for lack of a better word). It's easy to lose hope when your efforts appear feckless. Then I realize that those people who make no efforts and have sort of given up on the world are living their shallow lives, unaware of the big picture unfolding around them. I'm talking about the people who push their way in when you open a door to go out, those who don't make room for you to pass on the sidewalk, those who would rather give you a dirty look than say good morning. I could keep going, but I don't want to complain from my soap box too much. And I'm sure you get the picture. Anyway, they'll never know what true happiness is. Then maybe a similar soul spots you, or makes some sort of connection and does the smallest, nicest thing that makes your day. I was walking in to work, feeling somewhat down. I was stopped next to a small side street, waiting on a couple of cars to pass. I'd only been waiting a few seconds, but the last car in the (short) line stopped in the middle of the street to let me pass. There was really no reason for this complete stranger to do that, and I wasn't being impatient in the least (as far as I'm concerned, the longer it takes to get to work, the better). But they did it anyway. We both just smiled and waved as I went on my way. Life is often in the little things.

You know, for only having been married for a few months and lived together for a bit over a year, Meredith and Z and I have a lot of pictures. M and I were going through some of them a couple of nights ago, and remembering the things that were going on at those times really made me feel awesome. I have a wonderful family and great friends. Then I came across a picture of my ex-wife with me, my parents, my brother, and his wife. Instantly, I felt like crap. It wasn't because I still had a picture of her. It was because of the memory. I don't want to deny that I had a previous marriage or forget that I made that mistake. It just wasn't a happy time.

I've heard some people complain that most people only take pictures of the good times, that many pictures are forced to appear happy. The particular day of the picture with my ex wasn't a bad day, or anything. As a matter of fact it was pretty decent. But with her, there was always negativity there, in the background, somewhere, and the picture felt like forced happiness...maybe like we wanted to be happy but weren't. The pictures with my new family are all natural. We really are happy. Maybe the superstition about photos capturing your soul aren't so far from the truth. Maybe they don't take your soul away, but they allow it to come through some how. And the little things make themselves evident.