A friend of mine... I'll call her Meave (everyone else does)... has a nifty little trick that I've taken to admiring, if not downright envying. She cries. Regularly. This is one of the happiest people you'll ever meet, and as far as I know she's not in any sort of peril. She just cries a lot. Chances are, its got a lot to do with what makes her such a happy and charming person to be around. Unlike most of us, she has a a readily available outlet, a way to purge those small but nasty feelings that inconspicously drag down our mood, frustrate our thoughts or just hold us back from being our best.
I wish I could cry like that.
Coming up on the end of a week like this, a few hardy sobs could only do me some good. Without going into too much boring detail (I'll try for none if I can), getting 7 different foreign languages to work as subtitles in the DVD we're producing is proving to be an absolute nightmare. I've been going from morning to midnight all week and we're about halfway there. The finished product is due tomorrow. Oh yeah, and I've got a cold.
The weekend's coming, but having to spend it evacuating my flat isn't much to look forward to. But then just the other day it was pointed out to me that Saturday is Canada Day! After much group e-mail/reply-alling I've managed to coherse a friend into hosting a BBQ on his roof - despite the fact that he'll be off trying to snog young maids at a wedding that very evening.
So regardless of how tough things are here at work or how difficult it will be to say goodbye to my flat, grilled meat, cold beer, and culturally insensitive love-in-disguise barbs from close mates is always a horizon worth looking forward to. It could even bring a tear to my eye.
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