sadness is introverted anger

I was leading a group of tourists around the city on bikes the other day when I saw a woman. She was driving, I was biking, so I had every right to be happier than she. But she was driving a BMW, so she was probably more comfortable--with her richass-warmer turned on full bore in a desperate attempt to overcome frigidity. And yet she looked sad.

I faked a smile as I'm so wont to do. On the bike tour, I'm so good at faking it that it feels almost real. This must be how hookers feel. And in the fleeting moment that I passed, I saw in her face what I felt inside, whereas she probably only saw my shit-eating grin--nothing more than a reflex.

I think of this now thanks to Jeremy Denk--one of Lisa's friends whose blog I've been casually following. He opens:

My friend Cory said he heard a tiny scrap of laughter out his window the other night, and it made him want to cry, thinking of all the pleasures happening elsewhere.

And I know that feeling.

So my question is: did my faked happy smile make this woman a little less sad or did it exacerbate her sadness by showing her images of happiness? If the former, then it was worth it. If the latter, then I should have been more honest with my face, empathizing with her existential angst.

And finally, maybe the worst thing about sadness are those moments in which we are not permitted to show it, the moments in which we stifle it, tamp it down, and put on a pleasant façade. Either way, at some point and in some way, it's going to come out. Extroverted sadness is anger.

resume struggle: engage

Been there, back again. 3 months of adventuring--2 months in Europe and some time in Chicago--and I'm struggling again. This time, struggling to get back on track. The once-clear future has been clouded by months of ignoring it, teasing it, beating it with a stick. The when that mattered was now, but the current now is about then; how do we get there from here?

Europe was not not a struggle. But it was a struggle just to stay afloat, not leaving me time or energy to choose a direction. I'm a good swimmer, but out there in the middle of the ocean, it's hard to pick the right direction. I bobbed around for awhile, letting the currents guide me.

I spent most of August doing bike tours like mad--40 hours a week--and have been making

"bank". It gave me something to do, but I feel like I've been swimming on a treadmill; time to set the ocean in motion.

I have a love-hate relationship with the future. But at least I know it will be better than the past.

I almost started a whole new blog, but I think two will suffice: one for moments of forward momentum, the other for tangential shunts, the one framing the other.

And now a random word of the day: limn