Images of Contentment

• A bowl of Rice Chex and 2% milk. The first few crunchy bites; the last, soggy but still delicious. Greedily drinking the remaining milk and putting down the spoon in the empty bowl completely satisfied.
  
• Enjoying a lazy morning in shorts and a t-shirt. No rush, no need to do anything right away, just absorbing each glorious second of freedom. The day's potential, the opportunity to do whatever I want, even if whatever means nothing, goes down smooth and satisfies.
  
• Watching the second half of the Germany - Portugal soccer game in the European Cup. Two of the best teams in the world playing beautiful soccer. I'm amazed and envious, mostly amazed. Germany surprises the Portuguese 3-2, for whom I've never felt an affinity even though I speak their language, and I'm happy with the outcome.
  
• Searching the Provo Library's catalog and seeing they have a few books by the essayist James Thurber. Thurber was recommended by my creative nonfiction professor, and I need to check out those books soon. The anticipation of reading great literature leaves me excited and looking forward to tomorrow.
  
• The sun beats down, an occasional breeze blows through the apartment complex, and summer is in full swing. The swamp cooler keeps things comfortable indoors, and there's always the pool outside, calling my name.
  
• Listening to Radiohead and writing in a notebook, working on a possible essay/long blog post. The joy of listening to one of my favorite bands and seeking the best combination of words, phrases, images. The challenge of somehow conveying truths that can't be spoken or written, and though it seems inherently impossible, believing that it can and has been done because I've experienced it firsthand.
  
• Lying on a $5 full-length pool float, half-submerged in the refreshing water, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. Eating a fudgesicle, savoring it as much as possible while eating quickly enough that it remains in its solid state as it goes into my mouth. A truly perfect moment.
  
• The hot tub. Ah, yes. Even in the afternoon sun, the hot tub feels great.
  
• The rush of energy right before participating in an athletic event. The anticipation of intense competition, fatigue, loss of breath, streams of sweat, and the euphoria of victory.
  
• Rebounding from an unsatisfying experience and redeeming the remainder of the night. Bidding adieu to negativity, disappointment, and frustration, and welcoming home my prodigal optimism, enthusiasm, and willingness to do or say stupid things in the name of fun.
  
• Doing something. Not just thinking about doing something. Not just hoping for something to happen on its own. Actively making something happen. Doing something that is --and this is both pathetic and true -- difficult for my introverted and timid self. How many times had I thought about doing something and been too cautious, too afraid of taking a false step? Being active and decisive feels good, but I'm not naive enough to believe that I won't struggle to do something similar in the future. Still, life is great when doing something produces the desired results.
  
• A small Ziploc bag of nickels, $5 worth, and a large room full of arcade games, people, and the chaotic cacophony of fun. Dropping nickels into machines with reckless abandon. Playing air hockey on a table that doesn't seem to be working exactly as it should. Making a fool of myself with Dance Dance Revolution. Not a care in my mind. Watching nickels turn into tickets, and tickets into tattoos, lip kazoos, and candy. Getting my money's worth, not in candy or prizes, but in the intangibles that make life worth living.
  
• A 28 oz. watermelon and Twizzler strawberry flavored Slurpee. Mixing it with cotton candy while listening to dance music in the backseat of a car. Feeling hyper, even before the flood of sugar pours into my veins, and not wanting the night to end.
  
• Looking back at the end of another long day, tired and content. Eager to sleep and begin another day, but hesitant to turn out the light just yet, to put the period at the end of the day's last sentence, to turn the page and start writing on the blank page of tomorrow, to say goodbye to all that was and is now only memories.