On Joy

With little H- as conclusive evidence, yes, it is true, I have had sex. It can feel good.

The fantasy or foreplay of sex, most of us would probably admit, can feel good–even better than sex itself sometimes.

Eating amazing food is pretty great. (Here I’m thinking the choicest cut steaks cooked rare, beet red tuna sashimi, fresh croutons, cheese cubes, hard-boiled eggs–heck, anything in a monster salad that isn’t a vegetable–and, of course, cheesy, bready, pepperoni-ee, sausage-ee pizza.)

Sneezing has always had a unique feeling of pleasure to me, too. Especially solo sneezing when I am able to liberate my body from any social concerns and just let it get those dust particles OUT!!

Laughing. I love laughing. Ask anyone who knows me and they’ll tell you that I will sacrifice nearly anything (friends, family, jobs) to help someone laugh–even if that someone is only me.

Thinking about a blissful, eternal afterlife. That can bring me joy sometimes. The dream of a problem-free existence.

But none of those things, not one of those instances of life can compete with right now. Right now, at this very moment, I am living within the sure knowledge that at this time, one week from today, I will have completed a semester of school. No matter how little sleep I get, no matter how poor my grades turn out to be (I’m doing fine…just trying to stay humble), no matter what else happens, next Friday, December 11th, 2015, my brother’s one-hundred-and-elevenenenth birthday, I will have officially completed something.

Boy! I wish I could stay in this moment forever. Talk about joy. If only I could bottle this feeling. This is it.

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