Monday, May 23, 2005
If happiness is a warm gun ...
Then my backyard's a shooting range.
And I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time. I live in my favorite part of town. I got a 4.0. I'm not broke, nor broken. I've met this really wonderful guy, whom I oddly enough, already knew. I'm about to leave for the summer to work as a camp counselor for the fifth time. I'm quitting smoking, and can't wait to start running again. I just can't see how I could fit any more awesomeness into this glass.
And I'm not going to feel guilty. I'm not. Because I put in my time. I've often said 2004 was the best and worst year of my life. I cried when the clock struck 12:00 on New Year's for the sudden dramatic relief of it being over. I never understood the holiday before.
The weird thing is, the more I think about that time, the more I think about how lucky I was. It could have been worse, but I don't know much about what's worse than being so lonely, even when you're surrounded by friends who love you. And wondering where you're going to sleep at night. All your things piled up in your car. Or being so tired or hungry, or wanting a shower, but not having a key to a home or a bed, and being on everyone else's schedule and needing time to yourself so badly.
I was so sad for so long, and it seemed like happiness was all around me. But for some reason, I wasn't bitter. Because I just knew everything would pass. And love is so wonderful: just picking up on it in people-watching glances made me happy and hopeful.
Even when I wrote about The Good Life lyrics repeating in my head. The ones about being lonely while the rest of the world was in love. And just trying to fill the hole with another drink or some random, warm body at the end of the night. Or some empty conversation.
I realize now that it works both ways. The pull of energy in the universe, I guess. Because in my darkest hours, when I couldn't get up, most of the time I did feel inspired. But what I didn't count on was the other thing. The nievity I had that in a cynical world when you finally found happiness there would be so many around to share it with.
Because every day so much of what I encounter is sorrow and bitterness. Maybe attributable to my bar room occupation, but nonetheless.
Or maybe there's some crazy karmic explanational ratio in this world: like only 1 per every 10 persons can be happy at a time to balance things out. And that may even be a generous estimate.
I don't know. And I'm so sorry because I don't like to see people hurting. And I'm also so sorry because there's nothing I can do to help them, except be their friend. And I'm so selfishly sorry, because I want nothing more than to celebrate, while so many just would rather be numb for awhile.
I'm not better. I've been there. I'm just saying it's an interesting turn of events. How our moods can affect our perceptions that much about what's going on everywhere else when we go to sleep at night.
Then my backyard's a shooting range.
And I'm happier than I've been in a long, long time. I live in my favorite part of town. I got a 4.0. I'm not broke, nor broken. I've met this really wonderful guy, whom I oddly enough, already knew. I'm about to leave for the summer to work as a camp counselor for the fifth time. I'm quitting smoking, and can't wait to start running again. I just can't see how I could fit any more awesomeness into this glass.
And I'm not going to feel guilty. I'm not. Because I put in my time. I've often said 2004 was the best and worst year of my life. I cried when the clock struck 12:00 on New Year's for the sudden dramatic relief of it being over. I never understood the holiday before.
The weird thing is, the more I think about that time, the more I think about how lucky I was. It could have been worse, but I don't know much about what's worse than being so lonely, even when you're surrounded by friends who love you. And wondering where you're going to sleep at night. All your things piled up in your car. Or being so tired or hungry, or wanting a shower, but not having a key to a home or a bed, and being on everyone else's schedule and needing time to yourself so badly.
I was so sad for so long, and it seemed like happiness was all around me. But for some reason, I wasn't bitter. Because I just knew everything would pass. And love is so wonderful: just picking up on it in people-watching glances made me happy and hopeful.
Even when I wrote about The Good Life lyrics repeating in my head. The ones about being lonely while the rest of the world was in love. And just trying to fill the hole with another drink or some random, warm body at the end of the night. Or some empty conversation.
I realize now that it works both ways. The pull of energy in the universe, I guess. Because in my darkest hours, when I couldn't get up, most of the time I did feel inspired. But what I didn't count on was the other thing. The nievity I had that in a cynical world when you finally found happiness there would be so many around to share it with.
Because every day so much of what I encounter is sorrow and bitterness. Maybe attributable to my bar room occupation, but nonetheless.
Or maybe there's some crazy karmic explanational ratio in this world: like only 1 per every 10 persons can be happy at a time to balance things out. And that may even be a generous estimate.
I don't know. And I'm so sorry because I don't like to see people hurting. And I'm also so sorry because there's nothing I can do to help them, except be their friend. And I'm so selfishly sorry, because I want nothing more than to celebrate, while so many just would rather be numb for awhile.
I'm not better. I've been there. I'm just saying it's an interesting turn of events. How our moods can affect our perceptions that much about what's going on everywhere else when we go to sleep at night.
1 Comments:
thanks stefan. i'm leaving in just a few short days, and can't wait. i'll keep it up!
