{scrawled in my journal}

my hand hurts because i've just written about seven or eight cards. i'm at -- i think this place is called -- a novel café. it's not quite anastasia's, but it'll have to do, since the only options in my neighborhood are closed or starbucks, and no thank you very much. i have 16 minutes left on my parking meter and the stench of cigar smoke is filling my nostrils, so i'll be brief.

i'm doing okay.

honestly, i am.

nothing is really fabulous, but i don't think life always is. or ever is. maybe true happiness and contentment is finding peace with what you have -- not having all you want. because, really, when is anyone ever completely satisfied? the grass is always greener, there seems to be forever something more. (which is not a bad thing, necessarily. because the pursuit keeps us alive. but the pursuit alone can get tiring.)

unless you decide -- and yes, i'm saying it's a conscious decision -- that it's enough. that it's okay. that you're okay.

even if there are other places i'd rather be, other things i'd like to do and other people i wish i could see on a day-to-day basis, i'm okay.

it could be worse, right?

and it might get better.

but if it doesn't -- or if this is the best of right now -- then all right. i surrender.

and it's all about making the best of what you have, treating life like it's one adventure after another and acting as though every day is one big party. so i'm hanging out with the sunshine, writing love notes to friends, taking long luxurious naps, seeing cheesy chick flicks, having cups of strong coffee and spending time with people who matter to me. that's how you get through the day. that's how i'm getting through my days.