There’s a phrase that I’ve used over and over in my writing, probably ad nauseum, and it’s “a soft sort of sadness”. I like the sibilance of it (especially when I say it out loud. I’m a bit of a lisper with S.) The phrase to me sounds like the feeling, as if sadness is that type of snow that falls in heavy flakes and in pure silence. It’s a sadness that is not all consuming, but comforting somehow, in an artistic-I’m-alone sort of way.
Usually, I try to look at life lightly…to interpret the bad things that happen with a humorous slant. Every once in a while, though, it gets a little hard to be funny. This is how I felt this week. The idea that my life right now is just not funny. There are, certainly, funny elements, but mostly right now it’s twinged with pain.