The Joy List Club

          A long time ago in a galaxy far far away my insurance company still covered my physical therapy, and at one point while I was undergoing treatment my awesome therapist, Michele, gave me an assignment: to start keeping a "joy list," a running list of things that make me happy, because your mental state is just as important as the physical, especially when you're dealing with health issues on one plain, the other, or both. Chronic pain can cramp your happiness as swiftly and constantly as it can your muscles and nerves if you don't find ways to distract yourself. I am way too familiar with this phenomenon, and while losing yourself in something that makes you happy can help take you out of the pain swamp, it can also be extremely difficult to lose yourself in those things in the first place when you're so deeply submerged in that mess. Hence, the joy list, a reminder of things that can help lift me from the midst of that shit. 

          It was an interesting concept, because while there are and always have been things that make me happy (despite what certain people who know me might think, I'm not always a miserable, sharp-tongued bitch), I never really stopped to consider and list them before, and I immediately jumped into it. Some came easily, but some, surprisingly, didn't; some things made the list that might surprise people who know me, and some things that should've been a sure shot didn't, at least in full. For example, writing. I mentioned it to Michele and she pointed out, "It doesn't bring you joy, though, does it?" 

          And it's true; there's nothing like the high that comes from finding the perfect line to cap a poem, or filling in a plot hole that's been sucking all life into it for days, or finishing a story, reading it over, and realizing you did something amazing there, somehow. And, of course, there's the rush of receiving another acceptance, especially when the piece in question had been previously rejected by somebody else and is now getting the recognition you really thought it was due (like my poem "3/17," which The Threepenny Review saw fit to reject within 24 hours of receiving but now appears in the Spring 2019 issue of Poetry Quarterly). 

          But those are all out of my control, and definitely aren't consistent joy-bringers the way, say, cinnamon rolls or photos of Sebastian Stan cuddling puppies are, and writing is just as often about the downside of those creative moments: the times when you want to write but just can't come up with anything coherent or original, or the times when you have deadlines and ideas but no energy or inspiration, or when a story you know exactly what you want to do with for some reason just won't fucking work even though you planned it out perfectly and you love the characters and know what to do and I swear to God it's doing this just to fuck with me—

          See? No joy there. So writing doesn't appear on my joy list, even though it's brought me some good, even great, moments over the years, because I just can't count on it consistently the way I can other things. And some things that I previously had on the list have gone off it, either because I'm just not into them anymore or something happened later to taint them for me, so my list, even though I'm no longer in PT (dealing with insurance companies—"What has never made anybody's joy list in the history of ever, Alex?"), is still a living, evolving document. Some things I feel relatively certain will always have a place on it (stuffed-crust pizza and The X-Files, I'm looking at you), but even if time proves me wrong, I know I'll always have something on it, because I've lived a large part of my life not letting myself feel happiness because of my various conditions and pains and issues and dysfunctions, and that's nowhere near living  

          I thought I'd make this post to give you all a glimpse into the workings of Sarah Cannavo's happiness, with more posts here and there to add to it. Who knows, maybe it'll inspire you to look at your own life and start making a joy list of your own, because whether you have health or life issues or not, it's always a good idea to seek out things that make you happy that're already within your reach. Feel free to reach out and share some of them with me and each other, here in the comments section or on my social media; I'd love to hear from you guys about what made your own lists, and maybe find out what we have in common! In no particular order or ranking, here's a section from my joy list, with attending explanations and ramblings:  

          1.) Daily Dose of Puppies, Twitter. Seriously. Puppies. So many fluffy, fluffy puppies, all of them good boys and girls who prove that there are still a few sparks of light left in the darkness, that the cesspool that is Twitter has not yet tainted everything and humanity still has a way to redeem itself when the cliché aliens come to judge us for our sins, the sanctimonious assholes. Puppies!!!!!! (For those of you who wish to heal your broken soul with a healthy dose of these adorable fluffballs, just click here.) 

          2.) The music of David Duchovny. A few years ago, when I was first getting into The X-Files, I saw that the man behind the Mulder had released an album called Hell or Highwater. Curious, I listened to the first song, "Let It Rain," hit repeat, hit repeat again, and hit repeat again, and eventually expanded this obsessive process to include every song on the album. Each of them was beautiful in its own way, from the music to his voice to the lyrics that reminded me how amazingly the English language can be made to work, and I've since used both this album and its follow-up, Every Third Thought, as inspiration for both life and writing, and had it on multiple times during PT sessions, glad I could introduce Michele to it as well.

          3.) The Office. Its brand of humor, often centered around the awkward pause or the ill-timed, decidedly un-PC comment, isn't for everybody, but it definitely is for me. I can turn on any episode from any season and still laugh as hard as I did the first time I saw it, no matter how many times I've seen it since. Not to mention the glory that is PB&J (aka the Pam Beesly & Jim relationship), which always manages to soothe the rough edges of my cynical soul. #RelationshipGoals all the way. And now that I've finally gotten my brother into it I've gotten to watch it all over again, which has definitely helped perk me up during my recent bad patch of symptoms and suffering.

          4.) Popcorn and M&Ms. I have to thank my friend Abby for introducing me to this the day she and her mother took me to see the anniversary re-release of the original Ghostbusters on the big screen, and for providing it so often since. Salty, sweet, buttery, chocolately, perfect. 

          5.) The scent of lemons. If you're looking for some really deep, psychological explanation, like my mother used lemon-scented cleaner and so the smell brings me back to happier times before my body became hell-bent on destroying itself, or that it reminds me of the lemon tree that grew outside my bedroom window in the house with the red door, the closest thing to home I've ever known, nope, sorry to disappoint you: I've just always liked it, no reason I can nail to it that I know of. It's just a clean, sweet, sharp scent that perks me up when I smell it, whether in perfume, a candle, or just the fruit itself, and helps me clear my mind. 

          6.) The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy. Say I watched it because I was a twisted kid, or I was a twisted kid because I watched it, but if this cartoon helped make me who I am today, I'm nothing but grateful to it. Ghoulishly funny, sarcastic, and well-written enough to stand up years later, I loved this show as a kid and as the adult the law says I now am. Mandy, of course, was always a spiritual twin to me, and I think I'd be lucky if the overall aesthetic of the show ever leaked into anything I do. The fact that Voltaire's music showed up several times never hurt, either. "The Land of the Dead" = my jam. (The fact that I just said "my jam" should show you how serious I am about this.) 

          7.) Cinnamon rolls. Yes, food shows up a lot on this list, but considering that I don't have any of it every day, and I do my best to balance my diet and exercise otherwise, shut your judgmental piehole. Back to the happy: warm dough, swirls of cinnamon, and sweet, gooey icing—hell yeah it brings me joy. The only problem is that writing this made me want one, and there's none around, so please excuse me while I go quietly insane for a few minutes or so.

          8.) Panic! at the Disco. From the music to the aesthetic to the sarcasm and the twisty titles of their early songs, pop on some P!atD and watch my mood skyrocket. Their albums are among the few I've actually been known to listen to straight through, finish, and start right back up again for another run, not wanting it to ever end. They've provided a soundtrack to my life and writing that few others have (although if it sucks, blame me, not them. Brendan Urie is blameless and perfect). The only downer is that I cannot actually live in the music video for "Nine in the Afternoon," a song I'm listening to heavily as I plan my newest novel (I'm gonna finish this one, I swear), but at least I'll be able to watch it forever and ever and daydream about it, and like with most things in my life I tell myself that's almost as good. 

          9.) Courtney Peppernell's poetry. Last Christmas my best and long-suffering best friend Abby bought me Pillow Thoughts, Peppernell's first collection of poetry, after listening to me bitch about how I own almost no modern poetry, am too broke to afford most of it, and how our local library has almost none available to help my broke white ass out. I read devoured the book and immediately did it again (starting to see a pattern within my obsessions?), loving the jolt it gave not just to my reading list but to my writing life, helping to break me out of the rut I'd fallen into recently in my own poetry. Every poem in it brought a certain person to mind when I read it the first time, but the poems are so beautiful and accessible that when I reread it again recently, the poems all fit perfectly with somebody new who's been on my mind lately. For my birthday this month (#GeminiLifeForever, bitches) Abby provided me with Pillow Thoughts II: Healing the Heart, which was devoured just as quickly and gratefully. Despite the ache, longing, and loss present in some of these poems, I'm still putting them on my joy list because they take me out of myself for a bit and remind me of what poetry can be, and what I've accomplished with the inspiration I've found in these books.   

          10.) Norman Reedus's Instagram. As weird, wild, and wonderful as the man himself (who is far from done making appearances on this list), I never know what the hell I'm gonna find when I dive in, and I love it. From his own photos and art to works from fans he never hesitates to share (the love he has for his fans' creations is boundless and delightful), there's always something intriguing, confusing, hilarious, or moving just waiting to be seen, and no matter how down I am I'm always lifted after spending some time among these oddities.       

          So there you have it, as Queen said: ten randomly-selected items from my personal joy list. Like them? Hate them? Feel free to leave comments of any stripe—who knows, maybe one of the items on your personal list is using people on the Internet as your own personal digital punching bags. If so, or you feel like sharing anything from your own lists, don't hesitate; I'd love to see what my audience comes up with (she says, not having seen it yet). Who knows, maybe we'll discover we have something in common, or one of us will introduce the other to something they'd never have found otherwise. Until then, I'll be here listening to Panic! and sucking down the scent of lemons until cruel, cold reality fades away for a sweet, glorious while. See you then, dear readers.