The Secret

So last night J arrived home from work and I schlepped downstairs, still feeling sickly (though admirably, I had managed to shower and put on a little make-up). Since J comes from the school of "mind over matter", he decided the sure-fire way to get me out of my funk was to take me to Barnes and Noble, and Lowe's for good measure (since I was the one who broke the toilet handle on Saturday night, it was only fair).

Once secure in that magical happy land of literature, I decided on a book immediately for the first time in history (Stephen King's much-lauded Lisey's Story). And so I plopped my ill frame next to J in the travel section, as he perused books on Peru and Panama, our potential honeymoon destinations... A few moments later he was ready to leave, and as we meandered to the registers, I came upon the ubiquitous self-help phenomenon, The Secret.

"Did you figure out 'The Secret' yet?" J asked.

"Yes." I replied quickly. "Apparently it's the law of attraction."

"How so?"

"Well, whatever you put out there in the universe is what you will attract."

"Oh." Beat. "So what do you think you've been putting out into the universe lately?"

Humph.

"Um... Depression, bitterness, and, you know, phlegm?"

The Future H and his anvil of clarity have a point. HV has not been all sunshine and flowers lately. Most of it has to do with your run-of-the-mill, professional malaise, as I explained to J on Saturday afternoon.

"Can we PLEASE turn off The Flavor of Love now?" J asked for the fifth time.

"No, J. Am deeply depressed, and this is the only thing that makes me feel better about my life!" HV, in a troubling, melodramatic turn.







You know it's bad when you're relying on New York and Hoopz to throw you a life line.

The truth is, am not "deeply depressed." Have just been in major professional tailspin that has left me feeling overwhelmed. And whenever I feel overwhelmed, I become paralyzed.


This week, the paralysis happens to involves Sex and the City repeats (Third Season Carrie, you selfish, punning whore!), Easter Candy, and some nasty mucus.







Oh, and also some Woe Is Me! Talents Are Underappreciated! Am Doomed! stream-of-consciousness thinking, for good measure.

Please reference yesterday's post title. Did ya get it? Y'all remember the scene from Ferris Bueller's Day Off, when Ferris called sickly, pessimistic Cameron, who promptly told Ferris he was dying? And Ferris, wise sage, replied: "You're not dying; you just can't think of anything good to do."

That about covers it.

Am looking for something good to do and just may find it, if I can clear my sinuses and remember that I am Damn Talented, and that it is up to me to make it right! After all, if there is anything I learned from watching the first eight minutes of the hokey "Secret" video, it's that all of the great men in history operated via the Law of Attraction, and now that Secret has finally been shared with the masses, and that if we all just envision ourselves as millionaires, then we will all be millionaires. That's the gist, right?

Sarcasm aside, HomeValley is now off to her Happy Place, where she thinks only good thoughts and remains consistently assured that if she stays steadfast and positive (and stops referring to herself in the third person), all of her dreams will come true.