The art of not wanting. And other things I have yet to master

When people ask what I want for Christmas, I never know what to say. (I'd like to say more hugs, but that's an awkward gift.) Most of the things I want aren't things. And I try not to want too much in general, because it leads to unhappiness. I said try because I often fail at this. I want certain things to be different, I want to be different in certain ways. And maybe someday some of those things will be different, and I might be different at some point, though probably not in the ways that I'm hoping. But I can't control a lot of that. And there's no use worrying about things I can't control.

So this is where I am at this point in time and space. Sometimes I want to be somewhere else (like on a beach, looking like a supermodel and drinking a delicious smoothie with Ryan Reynolds). But if I really think about it, that's not where I want to be at all (sorry, Ryan). I want to be in the house that was once home to 4 people and one dog that I loved (and hopefully will someday be home to more people I will love), in the life that I built for myself that is crazy and funny and random and changing every day. I don't actually want to be anyone other than me, with my stupid heart and its ridiculous decisions and my stupid brain and its incessant nonsense. I have to admit I do sort of love my motley crew of parts. Sometimes. It's a start.

Wherever I am, it's because I need to be here for some reason. So I have to make the best of this moment and learn from all the teachers life is sending to me now. Wanting can be a useful feeling, to point me in the right direction if I'm lost. But if I spend too much time wanting things to be different, I'll miss out on what is good about how things actually are. Looking back, there were so many moments - a phone call, an e-mail, a slap, a word - that would change my life completely, only I didn't know it at the time. It seems logical to conclude that it could happen again. Everything in time, I suppose. And I do have time. Enough of it that I don't have to rush to fit everything in, but not so much of it that I can take it for granted.

There are two things that I do want for Christmas. They're the same things I want everyday. Good company and good times. And actually it's the good company that really matters. Because even the bad times aren't so bad if you have the right companions.

Lyric of the moment: "You pull back the curtains, and the sun burns into your eyes. You watch a plane flying across a clear blue sky. This is the day your life will surely change..."