Both sides of the happy/sad coin have their good points. I usually have great artistic energy when I am in a blue period. I always sang better, played better, and wrote better. I lived in a universe that had vibrant colors. I liken it to how junkies must miss the needle. You know its bad for you and you can't live that way, but man you miss the prick. Eventually, you have to leave the circus, and it's best to escape without wearing much clown paint. In this respect, I was lucky and managed to eek out a life. Half based on sheer luck, the other half on loved ones, reeling me in from the edge.
Life is great. I am loving the world in ways I never thought possible. I notice every leaf in every different phase of the fall. I am enjoying being the guy I am this minute, more than I ever have. Still, I miss my days as a smart mouthed rogue without a pot to piss in, or a window to throw it out of. I could never go back, but like a reformed criminal, I case banks, I will never rob.
I just came off of one of the best weeks ever. The rides have been off the charts. I had great times with family and friends in equally rewarding amounts. All this back and forth is just a result of wanting to be an artist and really being a soccer Dad. I don't know if there is room in the shell for both nuts.