Good things

[bironic]

I

Commuting by public transit often means watching harried and/or bitter parents square off against whining and/or hyperactive children. There's this one man, though, who appears on the bus from time to time and restores my faith in humanity and parenting. He's a good-looking guy, black, tied-back dreadlocks, trimmed beard, jeans and blazer chic. The kind of long fingers fandom loves to write about. He holds his blonde, pint-sized daughter in his lap and talks quietly to her while she babbles about her day and asks questions about what's on and outside the bus. He hugs her and lets her squirm and poke his face while being sure not to disturb the neighbors.

Today, she exclaimed about some cranes at a construction site and he introduced her to the concept of an excavator. Later, she asked, "Who's that?" about some stranger on the sidewalk. Instead of sighing and saying, "I don't know," like the weary mother on last week's ride who gave up on her son's constant "Why?"s, he said, "That's a man with a cane." Then he added, "His name is Harold." And, when she asked about someone else nearby, "That girl went skiing and she fell down. She hurt her foot. That's why she has crutches. It's been a few weeks, though, so she's going to get better soon."

I wanted to turn to him and tell him how much I enjoy seeing them on the bus, but chickened out, in part because he had responded to her sudden restlessness with another bear hug that made her laugh, and my eyes stung with tears.

II

Inspired in part by a recent conversation with childhood friend disgruntledowl, I wrote to two favorite English teachers from high school this afternoon about maybe getting a drink in our hometown over Thanksgiving. Despite our not having communicated in about 10 years except for one email exchange when I lived in Maryland, one of them, P., whom some of you may remember from reminiscences during the Memoryfest days?, responded within two hours. ♥

(Pleased to discover from a Google search that he's still a hottie. :) That's him holding the plaque.)

III

A lecturer at work today spoke about, basically, performative positivity on Facebook and how comparing yourself to others' carefully curated online lives can damage your mental and physical health. Nothing new, but it's got me thinking about the potential effects of my own recent attempts to focus on the happier aspects of my life in this journal. I hope that hasn't contributed to any of your discontents. Let it be known that my life beyond these posts is not all unicorns and rainbows, heh. ("Heh.") Focusing on positives here has been helping me counterbalance troubles at work and some unhealthy thought patterns.

Comments

[kass]

Thank you for this post -- especially the first part, which is wow.

Also, yes, performative positivity on FB Is annoying as hell and also arguably unhealthy and I hate that I do it too. But fwiw, your attempts to focus on happier elements of life in this journal do not come across like that at all. (I hope the same is true of my periodic gratitude posts, which I often make specifically because I'm having an awful day and need to lift my own mood! :-)

[bironic]

Good to hear. <3 And I indeed thought of your gratitudes while writing that paragraph, not as something performative but as another friend trying to find or reflect on the good parts of life amidst the rough parts. The posts are lovely.

[yhlee]

I like reading your Good Things--they remind me to look for the Good Things in my life. :)

[bironic]

Oh, good. <3 I can't imagine that's always easy, with everything you've had to deal with these last few months.

[blackmare]

I've found that some degree of "performative" positivity (and I've never been sure of where "genuine" stops and "performative" begins, precisely) is helpful in my ongoing struggle to stay out of the ditch and keep functioning. My life is often lonely and I have been pretty much broke for years now; I do my best to focus on things that will help me. Discussing Mah Problems on social media will not help; I get a lot of business there, and that would likely fall off if I were to start posting about it when I felt like shit and just wanted to give up on myself.

So now that I've rambled: No, I've never felt bad about anything you post. You've got nothing to fret about at all, IMO.

That dad on the train? How wonderful. What a fortunate little kid, to have him for a father. <3 I'd like more of THAT model of "manhood" in the world, please.

[topaz_eyes]

Rest assured, nothing you've posted has ever contributed to my discontents. TBH your posts add positivity to my day. That's a good thing. ♥