I have determined that I don't really care for being in a good mood.
It seems like, everytime I find myself in a particular good and happy mood,
there is inevitably something or someone that just completely yanks the proverbial rug from beneath my feet. Personally, I feel it's just easier on the senses to be, at most, in a so-so- mood. That way, when the rug is pulled out, a body doesn't have so far to fall.
I'm all about pain minimalization: I'm really not (much of) a masochist, despite my newly-developed interest in quilting...
On a lighter note, I have been reacqainted with a song from a series I watched faithfully when I was younger. It was a fairy tale romance that all little girls dream about (and many still do, though they may not admit it) A story of a star-crossed romance and deep abiding love, and pure and deep bond that could be felt even across the space of a continent.
The First Time I Loved Forever
(featuring excerpts from "somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond" a poem by E.E. Cummings)
(Song featured in the series Beauty and the Beast, starring Linda Hamilton and Ron Perlman)
sung by Lisa Angelie
Somewhere I have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which I cannot touch because they are too near
The first time I loved forever
Was when you whispered my name
And I knew at once you loved me
For the me of who I am
The first time I loved forever
I cast all else aside
And I bid my heart to follow
Be there no more need to hide
And if wishes and dreams
Are merely for children
And if love's a tale for fools
I'll live the dream with you
Or if your wish be to close me,
I and my life will shut very beautifully ,
suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending
For all my life and forever
There's a truth I will always know
When my world divides and shatters
Your love is where I'll go
I do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
by E. E. Cummings
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
(full poem found on Poets.org)