12:18 a.m. There is an immense amount of joy in this world. You know it when you feel it. You know it when it's gone. If you've been missing it lately, you can get it back, I promise. I swear it.

Unless you've been living under a rock for the past couple of years, you've probably heard of the "gratitude journal" concept that several writers have been pushing on Oprah-like talk shows. It sounds really stupid until you find the most sour, curmudgeonly people in your life and make them name a few things in the last 24 hours for which they are grateful.

Forget the happy people -- they already know how to be happy. You have to try this with the unhappiest person you know. The meanest cur in your life. Make him name five things. It's loads of fun!

Often, he (or she) will have the I-can-snap-your-neck-like-a-rotten-twig look on his face at first, and then, because they don't like to be bested or wrong, or left behind, the nastier they are, the more they will always rise to the bait.

Stuff is dredged. Usually negative stuff, but it's a start. The IRS didn't jackboot the door today. I kept my dinner down. Nobody won a million on TV. (They often get stuck on the fourth one.) You'll leave me alone when I come up with five of these. There. I'm done.

Yeah, yeah. It sounds really stupid ... but once you start working those gratitude muscles, you start to remember how to go joy-hunting. It's an actual skill, rather than a state of being. You're not feeling very joyful? Maybe you've just forgotten how to look.

Did you know, for instance, that if you smile (try it -- right now) ...

... no. I really mean it. Smile.

See? There was the tiniest difference in your perception. Could you feel it? Even a grimace, the kind you make when you hold a pencil sideways in your teeth, makes you feel a little better than no expression at all.

Isn't it sad when the smile sort of feels foreign? Or nostalgic? Or an old, old memory?

If I had to name five things for which I was grateful today, they would be:

1. Working: The music, the heater, the scanning, Photoshop, and the silly fights on Diary-l all came together and I felt ... happy.

2. I liked the elaborate aural composition on Frasier. Liked the chorus. Laughed slightly.

3. I found a forgotten bag of sweet white corn in the freezer and I ate the kernels one by one until my lips turned blue.

4. An old-fashioned phone call today just filled my head with bright, happy thoughts. Girlfriend stuff.

5. I could go on ... that's the beauty part.

I live where I can hear the ocean at night when the traffic stops. A foghorn wails when the night is cloudy. Igor sold a book today after 10 years of trying. The dishes are done.

It wasn't always this easy, but I've worked at it. In performing this particular exercise, you will come to the startling truth that each of your days are packed with generous memories even before you turn off your bedside lamp. Each day is typical; a fractal of your unique life. It belonged to you.

I am warm. I am not hungry, unless I choose to be. I am not unhappy, unless I choose to be.

I write in light.