The thing that I've been remembering these past couple of months is when I was a child the world seemed to have such an immense possibility of joy.  That joy and excitement experienced over the smallest things, like an ice cream cone (aka fat boys heroine) or the immense adrenalin rush experienced when Christmas was only a few hours a way. Those feelings just can't seem to be replicated as an adult. Not that I would every want to go back. 

Being a chubby boy, who was gay and wasn't able to comprehend that yet, living in a small town where hunting, fishing and off roading were past times for the average boy. A time when I'd rather play with dolls than trucks and road hockey was a punishment paid for wanting to actually hang out with friends. Yes, I'm very happy childhood is behind me now. However I'd still love to have that ability to feel that kind of pure happiness again.

Maybe it is 37 years of taking the hits of life on the chin that beats that out of you. The ever growing cynicism and the wilting optimism. Don't get me wrong, I have a fantastic life, with a loving husband, two wonderful dogs and amazing friends, but I just would like to feel that sense of awe and wonder again. 

Hmm... something to ponder... how to rev up your happiness meter when you are getting close to 40. I've tried wine and shopping therapy, which can both make me pretty dam happy, but there must be something I'm missing. Not giving up though, will need to think more about this. Maybe I'm just heading to an early mid-life crisis. Oh joy!