A heavy heart says a lot

That is the words of wisdom from my Yiddish calendar for today.  And mayhap this heart has been too heavy of late, much like a Neil Young song.  Oh, surely I can come up with a better analogy than that.  Let me see...Longfellow perhaps: “Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad”.  I have been overwhelmed of late because of all the "grown-up" decisions I have been making regarding the house.  Mayhap I have been cold to some when in fact I have been sad of heart.  Pretending to be a grown-up I feel no more grown-up that when I was I child wishing I were a grown-up not having to put up with the injustices of youth.

As Doctor Seuss opined “Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.”  Mayhap I should have t-shirts made with that inscription.  Maybe (or mayhap) I should be at least breaking into a grin because so much is over; but how much is there to smile about.  Well, that I made it this far in spite of a number of suicide attempts...how's that?  That I have been a relatively productive member of society for years.  Maybe it is enough to say that basically, and with some hubris, I am a good person.  Why just today I bid Mal a good morning.  And, of course, she ignored me.   So shoot me for trying.  Ah, but Yoda there is no try there is do or not do.  I did and through silence was rebuffed.  There she sits not ten feet away from me and aside from the obnoxious and constant throat clearing and aggressive and threatening emails I hear not a kind word from her. 

So, there you go.  A less then heavy thought to get through the cold day.   Oh, wait, I shall close with a quote from one of my favorite authors from one of my favorite books.  And while I could not cite this quote from memory (or heart as it were) I leave it with you at your door.

“He awoke each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounded and as impossible as it actually was, happy. And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right, or nothing was right for him, and by the desire to be alone. By evening he was fulfilled: alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt, alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, he would repeat to himself over and over, I am not sad. As if he might one day convince himself. Or fool himself. Or convince others--the only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. I am not sad. I am not sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room. He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his rib cage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the midafternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else, someone else, someone else somewhere else. I am not sad.”
― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated

The heavy and sad Czarina...