Battling the Mean Reds.

There are days, sometimes even entire stretches of days, when even Holly fails to Go Lightly.

You know that speech, my loves., when Holly explains the Mean Reds:

Holly Golightly: You know those days when you get the mean reds?

Paul Varjak: The mean reds, you mean like the blues?Holly Golightly: No. The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long, you're just sad that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of. Do you ever get that feeling?

I find the Mean Reds descend with no rhyme or reason. Maybe it's a gray day, or one filled with sun. Maybe you've been holed up in your room alone for the day, or maybe you're surrounded by brilliant and sparkling and lovely people. And ZAP, like lightning straight out the clear blue sky, your soul turns Red. And not the lovely warm and vibrant red. But the infected and angry and hurt red.

I have learned that life is like a flowerbed of beautiful and various flowers. And each morning, the buds burst open to greet the sun, to greet the day, to greet the world. The lily of contentment, the daffodils of success, the snapdragons of sass, the magnolia of self-confidence, the spider mum of imagination, the peonies of wit, the gladiolas of wisdom, the lilacs of honest friendship, the rose of love; a bevvy of things that characterize your day, that, together, color your life. But maybe on one day - or maybe many days in a row - one of those buds stays closed tight. Amid the wash of color and scent and wonder of life, one quiet stubborn blossom stubbornly refuses to open, perhaps for fear of a cold-snap. But how to coax it open? How indeed.

How do you battle the mean reds? Clearly, I bury myself in some sort of beautiful metaphor. Or, even better, I find a theme song.

So here it is, my darling dears.

The song that I'm relying on to pull me out of the mean reds,

whether or not that shy blossom decides to bloom:

Hello you long shots,

You dark horse runners,

Hairbrush singers, dashboard drummers.

Hello you wild magnolias, just waiting to bloom.

There's a little bit of all that inside of me and you

Thank God even crazy dreams come true.

I stood at the bottom of some walls I thought I couldn't climb.

I felt like Cinderella at the ball, just running out of time.

So I know how it feels to be afraid.

Think that it's all gonna slip away?

Hold on. Hold on.

Here's to you free souls, you firefly chasers,

Tree climbers, porch swingers, air guitar players.

Here's to you fearless dancers, shaking walls in your bedroom.

There's a lot of wonder left inside of me and you.

Thank God even crazy dreams come true.

Never let a bad day be enough

To go and talk you into giving up.

Sometimes everybody feels like you.

Just like you.

Thank God even crazy dreams come true....