I should be happier right now.

Indeed.

I don’t know what it is, but I seem to be struggling with the male emotional cycle again. Or at least that's what I call it. Though I should have a little bit of optimism left from the totally mean-spirited and killjoy win that the Wizards coaxed from the jaws of defeat against Cleveland yesterday but...it was nice, except it would have been much nicer if they had called LeTravel for the four steps he took on a similar lay-up back in the 2006 playoffs, but oh well.

In any case, I’m not feeling deflated - I’ve got plenty of rage left, that much is undeniable. LeBron is an Argentine, as far as I’m concerned. How does a 6’9 man who is a bona fide superstar and who weighs 250 lbs think it’s ok to spend every game whining about everything?

So I enjoy the circus-like feel that accompanies a LeBron loss in Washington, but it’s not really helping, even though “crab dribble” has momentarily become part of the national sports lexicon. (The “crab dribble” is, surprisingly, non-venereal!)

Actually, a pitiful Wizards win in January just reminds me of the plethora of ways in which the Wiz/Bullets are their own worst enemies. And that’s just it: every little glimmer of positive news from here or there just seems like a reminder of what isn’t. I guess I should be all T.I. about it and start singing “live your life” or whatever, but instead I’m just thinking of unmet obligations, of upcoming changes, and of the Sisyphean task that is relating to people in a healthy way.

Plus, I’ve got immense blisters on my feet from ice skating in Central Park, so I’m walking kind of weird and slow. Appropriately, I listened to Fennesz’s lovely “Endless Summer” on the metro this morning, and it was good soundtracking for today: no rhythm, static-y. About the only positive thing I can think of doing is creating a tag for this kind of entry and mention the male emotional cycle whenever I think I stumble into it, and then take a look back in six months to find out if this mood really does follow some weird lunar cycle or not. Partly because one of the things I hope to do this year is to make “sad bastard country” a place that I visit for short periods, and only out of necessity, instead of an old coat that I’m reluctant to put in the “give away” pile for Martha’s Table, but it seems the only creative and positive thing I can think to do with it is to write, this, today, and start the counting.

And because we must remain positive, I’m less than two months out from the next half-marathon, and it’s been a few months since I’ve run a distance greater than five miles. This spells TROUBBLE. Tee ar oh ewe. Bee bee bee el ee. Laissez les bons temps rouler!