Last time, I wrote about how sleep had been eluding me. It hasn’t gotten much better. Some nights, it literally takes hours to fall asleep, and then I wake up every hour. Other nights, I fall asleep quickly and I’m up every 20-30 minutes. I’m working on a story, and in one section, my narrator explains how a specific memory is like a well-oiled marble in my main character’s mind. Sleep has been like that for me – I can grab it, but it slips away easily.

While some of this is due to things that are beyond my control, there’s a pretty big part of it that I can control, and that part is what I think about on a daily basis. So, instead of crazily fixating on things I can’t possibly remedy right now, I’ve been trying to think about good things. Happy things. Am I just distracting myself? That’s a fine theory. But it’s hurting no one, most importantly myself.

Last time, I wrote about the one thing that makes me the most angry. This time, I think I want to write about things that make me happy.

Right now, I’m sitting on the back deck of the house in which I rent the basement. The awning and banisters have been lined with strings of both white and colored lights. It is summer, a newborn July, and tomorrow is my favorite holiday. The neighborhood is feeling exceptionally festive–bursts of color light the sky on all sides. It’s both peaceful and exciting at the same time, and I feel grateful that this is where I am, in many senses.

Summer is the season that will always make me the happiest. I think a lot of that has to do with the elongated daylight hours – how the sun gives up slowly, stretching lazily and leaving trails of color behind as it goes. The 4th of July is my favorite for multiple reasons–everyone is outside, grilled food is awesome, and fireworks are pretty much magic. I kind of like that they’re saved for this occasion only, in most places. There’s a lot of symbolism, and I could probably go on for pages describing what my favorite type of firework looks like. I’ve always said I’m going to either write a short story or a scene that takes place on the 4th of July.

Unfortunately, that isn’t going to happen now. I am working on something, but it is a stretch from the things I usually write. I’m playing with a personality type and a familiar, but unfavorable setting. It’s off my style in so many ways–I already know its end. Usually, I don’t know I’ve reached a story’s ending until it’s looking at me from the other side of the screen. I’m likely going to post it here once it’s finished, which is another deviation for me. It’s slow going, but it is going, and I spent an hour the other night editing what’s there and adding more. Afterward, I couldn’t sleep, but I couldn’t tell if it was because of the writing buzz or because I was throwing so many ideas across my own brain. It feels good to be writing, and it feels good to not abandon the project to work on a new idea.

Because there’s something brewing–something big, I think–but I’m going to let it steep a little longer before I start typing. I feel like my imagination is lifting weights. It’s gotten scrawny over some time, but now its taking gym selfies in the mirror.

I have a new job, finally – thank all that is holy. I get paid a pretty decently awesome hourly wage that I negotiated up when I was hired. I sit in a very open space, next to a huge window, with a monitor that’s almost television-sized. I switch off between PDF and paper edits. My comments and suggestions are taken seriously, even if they’re not always incorporated ((the bane of every professional proofreader and editor everywhere)). I actually feel like my presence is appreciated, and I find that I actually get excited about certain projects when they’re handed to me. It takes me 10 minutes to get there. I’m working four-hour shifts, which is both ideal and not, but it means I have time and energy to do my own writing. I’m using my brain. And I might still just be a cog in a wheel, but I don’t feel like it, and that’s awesome.

My moods are wonky, but I can say that they switch between content and anxious, instead of just varying degrees of anxiety. The other afternoon, I felt a weird sense of calm while I was driving with my boyfriend–the first time in quite awhile when it was like, “everything’s okay.” Conversely, I was waiting on line at Best Market this afternoon to pay for the ingredients for a watermelon-feta salad I’m making for tomorrow and out of nowhere, I felt incredibly anxious. There was no reason for it, really. The store was crowded, but the line was moving. Maybe it had something to do with the incredibly rude man who sidled up behind me soon after. Here’s a note to the public: I get that I look different from your usual day-to-day redhead. I would probably spend a few extra seconds longer looking at my face, too, if I’d never seen a facial PWS before. But here’s the thing–if I catch you staring with direct eye contact three times over, you’re being an asshole.And just for the record, I don’t think you really have a right to stare when you’re wearing a huge straw cowboy hat, athletic socks and brown dress shoes, and you’re oddly crooning to yourself. Just saying.

So, the night is winding down and hopefully, I am, too. But if not, at least I have some really good things to think about, and tomorrow, if I’m inevitably exhausted, at least I’ll be with some of my favorite people, enjoying one of my most favorite days of the year.

And maybe there will be fireworks.