the busy heart

For the last day or so, I've been a little spilly. It's felt like something was sloshing around in my heart. What I mean is: I've been sad. But that silly sort of sad, where nothing is wrong, you just feel like crying at everything. (Not pregnant--honest.) Example: listening to The Writer's Almanac podcast this morning while walking to the T, Garrison Keillor was describing Ira Glass' career, and this made me feel like weeping. Why? He followed his dream? Many doubted the success of This American Life, and now the world agrees it a was a spot-on, brilliant idea? No good reason, see? So I was crossing the Whole Foods parking lot, getting choked up every ten seconds, when this suddenly seemed very funny, this weepy self. And then, walking down Washington Street, passing bus stops and dogs out on their walks, stray snowflakes hitting my lips and chin, I couldn't stop laughing. I was just giggling out loud, grinning. Everything seemed funny, especially my ...

saw my shrink this morning--my new one, who's not as dumb as the last. you know what's weird about having a shrink? you can feel happy, singing stupid songs in the bathtub happy, admiring the way the sun comes in the window and shatters the light of your wedding ring happy, and then you go in there and talk about all the stuff you worry about and makes you sad. and then you know what happens? surprise, surprise, it makes you sad! duh. it's weird this happened today because then on the way to school i listened to the moth podcast and they had a story by someonerother solomon who wrote noonday demon (and i'm too lazy to link--sorry.) and he was telling this story about being in Africa and having this ritual performed by some village medicine woman, meant to combat depression. the ritual involved hugging a ram in a marriage bed while everyone danced around and threw blankets on them and then they slit the ram's throat and covered the man's naked body in blood a...