I am a marshmallow (goo goo ga joob)

Yesterday I felt...strange. All day I tried to put my finger on what I was experiencing. I was the human equivalent of marshmallows; I was that fake spiderweb stuff you hang on halloween; I was really thin, expensive silk hung from the top of a tall tree that catches the wind.

I got lots of work done at home, and completed my project at the bookstore. I was nice to customers and didn't get too impatient. I had a nice conversation with my co-worker.

I was looking forward to things.

It took me until seven o'clock at night to realize that I felt...

happy!

Happy enough that I felt the need to point it out to E. in much the same way I might announce, "I've just won free money!"

I didn't recognize my own happiness (indeed, I kept thinking: whatever this feeling state is, there HAS to be a cause and gosh darn it, I'm gonna hunt it down and kill it!) because for the past three weeks I have been feeling shades of gray ranging from anxious to bad to downright crappy.

Of course, sheer happiness for its own sake is apparently unacceptable in Jordan's inner council of emotional scrutiny bureau--a nasty office full of red tape and men in horrible suits that can be found in my left temporal lobe--because I kept sniffing out the source. Why am I happy? Is it because I have let go of things out of my control like people's perceptions of me? Is it perhaps that I have come to the end of a very lengthy project that I felt would never end? Is it because I found my inspiration mojo again to keep plugging away on the novel revision? Did it have something to do with the brand new episode of The Office, perhaps?

At the end of the day, and here today as well, I still don't know for sure. I only know that I am still very fluffy lemon meringue pie; one of those enormous balls people use in Pilates class; forget that--people, i am a goddamn hot air balloon. And I really don't care why.