On Sparkling

Nearly a week after New Year's Eve, and I still am finding teeny sparkles sporadically popping up, clinging to my face, my clothes, my hair... They linger, like leftovers from Thanksgiving and bits of gift wrap from Christmas, testaments to the superficiality of the holidays which becomes more and more apparent as they become more and more distant, what with all that holiday magical-ness wearing off and whatnot. I'm sparkling, and its depressing.

(Does anyone else find the 12-month calendar, the "holiday season", the pre-determined 7-day week confining? Life is cyclical, not linear... we aren't moving towards an ultimate, but recycling our years. Not much changes, in the end. Growing up is a farce.)

I think I find a lot of things depressing. I write about them a lot here. In fact, I think the majority of my posts center around things that disgust me, stress me out, make me nervous... quite simply, things that can pretty much be summed up by the adjective 'depressing.' (With the exception of Puccini, of course. Although 'O Mio Babbino Caro' is an almost tragically desperate aria, it stills makes me smile.) Anyways, my typing about depressing things is in itself a tad depressing, so let's move on...

My essays are... coming along? Proust and Boltanski is half finished... Spirit Photography has yet to be started. This thought depresses me. Hopeless, simply hopeless.

........................

Ahem. So I was thinking of things that didn't depress me so that I could end this post on a lighter, happier note. I thought almost instantly of Klimt (Glorious!), and more specifically of his Mäda Primavesi, one of my very, very favorites. Upon searching the interweb for an image of said painting to share with you lovelies, I came across this bastardization and nearly cried:

*Sigh* Is nothing sacred? Depressing.