pursuing illusive happyness

Having come to the ironic conclusion that answering a prompt about fears wasn´t nearly as painful as I would have guessed, I know what´s next and I can´t say this topic is any more alluring.  There are no big billboard events in the last week or two that I can separate from the rest, saying it was the last time that I was really, really happy.  Ok, I take that back.  I did come home, but even that carries with it the pain of leaving mi otra hogar.

Well, the last time I was happy, really happy, depends on what that might mean.  It made me happy this afternoon to find the picture now on the Who am I page, but my smile was a quiet, small one. 

If laughing is the cut-off point, I´d have to say last night, while skyping a Nicaraguan friend, as for, as frusterating as that might have been, I genuinely enjoyed that conversation – even if it was playing a bit of hard to get. 

I´m overjoyed each time I run into another new, but familiar face.  When I stand there for a second and wait for the light to turn on in an

and here I come to a classic dilema that I shall might as well come to expect.  If someone comes in at the half way point and causes you to miss the last five minutes, does that mean since the time is cut short the writing shall be also, it´s an automatic restart, or I should just start again and give myself 5 minutes instead of 10.  It must be hard for authors to constantly have to stop and start and try to pick up again where they left off.  One of the writing rules from one of the blogs I read while procrastinating said that one shouldn´t reread, at all, until the end.  That takes more willpower than I think I have. 

I decide a test is a test and there´s no overtime as I pick up the book again to see what might be next.

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