Calm.

And for no good goddamned reason other than I think I fit better in my skin than ever before. I'm starting to see the upshot of 30:

1. I'm getting recognition at work, and not because I'm running around doing flips and handstands, but because I've done good work for more than three years. People are noticing that.

2. I'm getting better at saying no to the things that require more of me than I'm willing to give and I'm also learning to say yes when people offer to help.

3. I've heard from two of my best, oldest students who have moved on in the world, one of whom hit the ground running reporting for a tiny newspaper in a desert town between LA and Vegas. I taught him everything he knows about practicing journalism and he's wowing them already. He's delighted and so am I, especially that I'm the person he wants to call to share his first war stories with.

The other student called me from France because she's been thinking about me, but more importantly, because she got a proposal to begin a love affair and I was the only person with whom she felt she could talk about it. We decided that yes, yes indeed, she should take this lover. She's over there teaching English, and she's been using teaching techniques she picked up in the classes I taught her.

How gratifying is that? Teachers don't often see the fruits of their labor, but there's nothing more satisfying than knowing you've affected people, changed them for the better just by doing what you do. Granted, I gave a little extra to these two--because I believed in them, but also because they gave a hell of a lot back. Obviously, they're still giving. . . .

I love knowing I've made the right choices.

4. I am taking damn good care of myself. Have I mentioned that I bought a juicer and a yogurt maker and have gone almost exclusively organic? I eat very, very little wheat, corn and alcohol, practically no sugar or pork, and damn if I am not feeling healthy. I've learned to accept that it may take Herculean efforts for me to feel good, but it's worth whatever it takes.

5. One word: Bodyjam. It might at first glance sound like some icky stuff you might remove from between your toes, but it's actually a newish class they're offering at my gym. Think club, think sober, think choreography, think hot, think latinhiphopcontemporarymodernfunk, think 900 calories burned an hour. It's the highlight of my week. I just don't go dancing often enough . . . now I get to dance my ass off instead of begrudgingly toiling away on some cardio machine. Next they'll be offering sex classes. No way it could get more fun. I'ma start wearing sparkles to the gym.


And all the other bullshit annoyances in my life pale in light of those things. At least for the moment. So, I thought I'd bask in the glory of that moment while it lasts.

Happy Samhain--it's New Year's eve for all you pagans out there: live it up. I'll be discussing Toni Morrison and Alice Walker instead of trick-or-treating, but I'll do my annual ritual when I get home: Slice an apple in half, concentrate all the negativity, bullshit, sorrows, disappointments, rage from the past year into those two apple halves. Place them back together and bury them. Voila! Happy, brand New Year!