Gratitude

Giving thanks is not something you should do just one day a year. But something about human nature makes it hard for us to appreciate things. We’re not good at noting the obvious. To our ancestors — running around the savannah, picking nuts and berries, and running away from scary predators — it was probably more important to note suspicious changes in the environment.

Okay, that may or may not be a load of bull.

But in any case, we’re a readily adaptable species. It’s easy for us to incorporate new things into our idea of normality. Case in point: the state of the nation over the past two months. The new becomes normal very quickly, especially these days. Whether it’s good or bad, our lives evolve to a new normal. What this means is that while we can get used to adversity, we’re still always looking around for something better, complaining about what we don’t have, trying to find what it is that we think we really need to survive.

Contentment would seem so damn easy to achieve, but we’re not wired to notice it too well.

Give thanks every day. You may forget, but try to remember.

In no particular order, here’s what I’m thankful for these days.

I’m thankful for my new apartment. This place rocks. After a year of annoyance, of high rent, of noise, of unpleasant neighbors, of a busy street, I’ve moved into an apartment with lower rent, on a quieter street, in a charming building, with lots of space and cable TV. I love being here. In fact, I’ve become more of a homebody lately because it’s nice to just hang out here. I’m so thankful I love where I live.

I’m thankful for my health. I have all four limbs. I can hear out of both ears and listen to beautiful music. I can see out of both eyes and recognize gorgeous colors. I can speak. I can taste. I can touch. I can walk. I can turn my head. I can blink. I can smile. I can breathe. I can run. I can exert myself with no problem. And my pancreas, liver, kidney, spleen, and heart all seem to work just wonderfully.

I’m thankful that I can afford certain material things. I don’t make a ton of money, and I have school loans to pay off. But I can afford to live alone, and I go to sleep with a full belly every night, and I have heat. Those things alone are worth giving thanks for. Also, I have Internet access, and a television, and I can see movies and an occasional show, and I can go to bars and buy a drink or two, and sometimes I can buy new clothes from the Gap.

I’m thankful that I’m young. If you’d asked me a few years ago, I would have said that 27 was so old. Heck, after I graduated from college I felt old — I mourned the apparent fact that the fun part of life was over. That’s damn sure not sure anymore. Twenty-seven is nothing. I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, I’ve barely begun to live it, and — if all goes well — I have lots to look forward to in my future. There are so many people yet to met, places yet to go, things yet to do, thoughts yet to think, words yet to write. I can’t wait to find out what good things the future holds.

I’m thankful for my talents. I’m thankful that I’m a smart guy. I’m thankful that I’m creative. I’m thankful that I’m empathetic. I’m thankful that I have a particular gift for writing. Oh, and I’m thankful that I’m good in bed.

I’m thankful for orgasms.

I’m thankful that I’m a very good singer. I haven’t had occasion to use this ability for a couple of years, but it’s still great to know that it’s still there.

I’m thankful that I’m human. I’m glad I have the ability to feel emotions. And despite the fact that I publicize my thoughts almost daily, I’m thankful for the barrier of the self. I’m thankful for the privacy of the human psyche. That’s true of the human race no matter where you are or when you’ve been alive: employees with really evil bosses, Jews in concentration camps, Soviet citizens in the gulag, women ruled by the Taliban, whoever or wherever or whenever you are: people might be able to tell you what to do, but they’ll never be able to tell you what to think while you’re doing it. From this comes human dignity. People cannot yet get inside your brain. People cannot tell you who you are.

I’m thankful for my family. My parents may have screwed up along the way, but doesn’t everyone’s parents? I’m damn sure I wouldn’t be able to raise even one kid without some major trauma happening. I’m thankful that my parents have been married for more than thirty years and still love each other. I’m thankful that I had a stable, well-off childhood. I’m thankful that my parents recognize my interest in theater and have taken me to tons of shows over the years. I’m thankful that they recognize my love of writing. And my brother — I’m thankful that he and I are close.

I’m thankful that I like what I see when I look in the mirror. Okay, I’m not Abercrombie material, and I’m not musclebound. But I think I’m cute, and I have a slim, nicely-proportioned body with the outlines of some good musculature. If it were at all possible for me to gain weight, I could put on muscle, but on the other hand — at least so far in my life — that means I can eat anything I want and not worry about putting on pounds.

I’m thankful that I’m out of the closet. It took a long time, but I did it a few years ago. For a long time I felt like there was a civil war going on inside my body, but the two sides had a truce and I wound up a stronger, unified person. Life is so much better when you don’t have to spend so much energy hiding who you are. And nobody seems to love me any less for being me.

I’m thankful for living so close to Manhattan. Manhattan’s terrific. The last two months have reminded me of that. You can do anything you want. You can see so many shows, eat any type of food, meet all types of people. You can be whoever you are without being bothered. You can walk along the streets without knowing what interesting things you’ll encounter. Manhattan crackles with energy; even at four in the morning, you can feel the hum.

I’m thankful for this blog. It’s great to have a place to work out my thoughts and feelings and neuroses. It’s great to get positive feedback for doing so. It’s great to get messages from appreciative readers. I love the instant gratification it brings. I guess that makes me instantly thankful.

I’m thankful for the blogging community. I’ve met some great people since I’ve started this thing. Interesting people. Wacky people. Individuals. It’s been a fun part of my social life. Wow, bloggers are a weird lot. You’ve gotta have a few screws loose to do something like this — well, at least if you’re the type who rants on about your own life in public. If you’re the type who posts lots of links and doesn’t say much about oneself — well, then you’re much more normal than the rest of us. I love you anyway.

Well, that seems like a good enough list for now.

No doubt I’m leaving lots of things out. But like I said, it’s hard to recognize the obvious.

Try to do it anyway. As often as you can. Not just today.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.