It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.
Of course that is the opening from The Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens, but it could have easily be written to describe the state of my reality at this very moment...and possibly the state of yours or someone you know. I've had "It's the best of times, it's the worst of times" rolling round my brain on a daily basis for the whole month of March. And if I'd remembered the whole quote, the wisdom/foolishness part would be right up there too.
I've never had a month like this before...where I literally got the best news ever and worst news ever on the same day, and on one occasion it was within an hour. I'm not talking about someone calling and saying, "I've got good news and bad news. which do you want first?" I'm talking about getting great news from one person and then later getting crap news from someone else.
The result of this has been almost a negation of events. A period of not being. Despite all the great news I've been unable to jump for joy and do cartwheels around the house (although I accidentally sort of did a cartwheel last night when I tripped in the middle of Ventura Boulevard while jaywalking), and at the same time most of the bad news hasn't had me in tears writhing on the hardwood floor (except for news of a friend's friend's death at the hands of a drunk driver).
In times past my experience has generally been a bad day or a good day, a bad week or a good week so I could feel stellar on the good days/weeks and miserable on the bad days/weeks. I really don't like it when I get the Charles Dickens version and they're all muddled together. I don't want my periods of pure elation muddied with the downer shit.
So it's time to rewrite the master. Do an adaptation if you will. I'm calling it The Tale of My Reality and changing the opening. It now goes like this:
It was the best of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the epoch of belief, it was the season of Light, it was the spring of hope, I had everything before me, and could celebrate the joys of my success.
Good news only from here on out. For me. For you. For everyone.