It's 3:02 pm and my neighbor is listening to Beyoncé's "Sweet Dreams" and Taio Cruz's "Dynamite." I think he's the DJ. It's an "electro-pop" party out on the canals today. (Seriously, I know. I Shazammed both songs.)
There's nothing like a beautiful Saturday afternoon at home to put me in a happy place. I don't know how I'm ever going to leave California-- I love the sunshine and the breezes. I love being able to tell myself I'm going to walk to the beach and start seriously writing in 15 minutes, even though I always keep putting it off.
Adam left today. For the first time in a VERY LONG TIME, I am alone on the canals again. It's heavenly.
I feel guilty saying that, because I'm not trying to say that I don't like Adam, or any of the other people who have visited me over the summer. Of course, I love you all. It's just... There's nothing like the freedom of being completely alone. I've heard guys explain it as, "the ability to walk naked around your apartment." I totally get that. I don't do it, because that's weird and I live on the first floor and have windows, but still. Sentiment noted. Solitude = freedom.
So, that's something else to chalk up on the Emily Happiness List: I need alone time. And, I need more than an hour of alone time. When I was at Penn, living with Adam in a house with five other people, I struggled desperately for alone time. It became sort of an issue, leading to lots of fights. Alone time doesn't count as alone time if it's scheduled into someone else's itinerary. And it definitely does not count if the entire time I'm worrying that I'm upsetting someone by being by myself.
So I guess that's another thing. Emily isn't happy when other people are unhappy. Within reason, of course. I'm not saying that I will be thoroughly miserable so long as there are starving children in India, because unfortunately that will probably continue despite my best efforts, but if someone I know is unhappy and there's something I can do about it, I feel obligated to do something, even if it's at the expense of my own happiness.
What alone time really is, to me, is an expanse of time that stretches as far as I want-- for example, an afternoon into an evening, which will end whenever I decide to go to bed. It's exhilarating because time becomes so flexible when I get to choose what to do without any regard to anyone else's feelings. Of course, I can choose to do something for someone else. But even then, I'm choosing for me, not for them. alone time is the ultimate selfishness. I cling to it now because I'm positive that once I actually have to grow up, it won't exist anymore.
The neighbor isn't playing "electro-pop" anymore. Now, I can only hear the faint drone of an airplane and the occasional windchimes. Oh wait-- there he goes again. I'm going to Starbucks.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Personally...
Work peoples have requested I write more personal blogs. So, here it goes...
I was driving to work today, and actually thinking about writing this particular blog post (before it was specifically requested). I was insanely happy as I was driving--and I had no idea why. Nothing particularly interesting had happened. Nothing exciting was going to happen. I've already gotten sick of making my happy lists every morning, so it wasn't anything on that... I tried to retrace my steps. What happened this morning that made me happy?
I woke up (exhausted) at 9:30, and promptly snoozed until 9:39, when I HAD to stumble out of bed to clean my apartment. The apartment inspector was coming today. Everything had to be perfect, and let's face it, I had my work cut out for me. Between the massive influx of guests I've had (it's always good to have guests, but it feels like I haven't had a spare moment to myself in the past two months) and my own laziness, my apartment has become a clutter-fest of random stuff and lots and lots of dust. By 10:30, my apartment was spick-and-span, and I was acting the happy host. Perhaps there's something to be said for acting the way you want to feel, and for having a nice, clean place to live. No matter how much I drag my feet, I think I like being organized and giving myself imaginary gold stars. Well, I know I like imaginary gold stars, but I hadn't realized just how much I appreciate cleanliness. It's ironic, really, given how messy I am.
By 11:00, Adam (my boyfriend who's visiting) and I went to Lemonade for lunch-- it's a little restaurant down the street where you combine different types of cold salads in a smorgasbord of yummy-ness. Adam and I shared mushroom couscous with truffle oil, sweet potatoes and pistachios, and macaroni and cheese (the best macaroni and cheese I've ever had, I swear) and then I had a chicken, sweet potatoes and grape salad. My next conclusion-- there's something to be said for really good food in the middle of the day.
As I drove, I was singing at the top of my lungs to Snow Patrol's "Set the Fire to the Third Bar." Normally I'm just a so-so Snow Patrol fan, but I'm kind of obsessed with that one song. Singing totally cheers me up, but I think that's because I have a tendency to belt it when I'm in a good mood.
It only helps that today was a warm, beautiful day. But, that's kind of an afterthought. Once I think to myself "I'm happy," I think, "It's warm and beautiful; I'm happy." It's like the icing on the cake. Of course, if it's nasty outside (as it often is in Philly, that's enough to swing my mood in the opposite direction and make me really work to think positive).
And then, once I'm happy, I'm more generous instead of hating the other drivers on the road. I'm excited to go to work and I appreciate the little things, especially about the people I'm with. Once I have a small foundation of happiness, it's easier to build on it-- to remember the other pieces that lead to happiness, like being thankful for the people around me, and remembering to slow down and appreciate things. If I don't have that foundation, it's almost impossible to move forward from there.
But what builds the foundation? The cleaning? The music? The food? All of it? Or none? Is the foundation of happiness simply a chemical balance in my brain that I can't control-- the scientific equivalent to waking up on the right side of the bed in the morning? In other words, is my day-to-day happiness sheer luck?
I shall have to do more reconnaissance.
I was driving to work today, and actually thinking about writing this particular blog post (before it was specifically requested). I was insanely happy as I was driving--and I had no idea why. Nothing particularly interesting had happened. Nothing exciting was going to happen. I've already gotten sick of making my happy lists every morning, so it wasn't anything on that... I tried to retrace my steps. What happened this morning that made me happy?
I woke up (exhausted) at 9:30, and promptly snoozed until 9:39, when I HAD to stumble out of bed to clean my apartment. The apartment inspector was coming today. Everything had to be perfect, and let's face it, I had my work cut out for me. Between the massive influx of guests I've had (it's always good to have guests, but it feels like I haven't had a spare moment to myself in the past two months) and my own laziness, my apartment has become a clutter-fest of random stuff and lots and lots of dust. By 10:30, my apartment was spick-and-span, and I was acting the happy host. Perhaps there's something to be said for acting the way you want to feel, and for having a nice, clean place to live. No matter how much I drag my feet, I think I like being organized and giving myself imaginary gold stars. Well, I know I like imaginary gold stars, but I hadn't realized just how much I appreciate cleanliness. It's ironic, really, given how messy I am.
By 11:00, Adam (my boyfriend who's visiting) and I went to Lemonade for lunch-- it's a little restaurant down the street where you combine different types of cold salads in a smorgasbord of yummy-ness. Adam and I shared mushroom couscous with truffle oil, sweet potatoes and pistachios, and macaroni and cheese (the best macaroni and cheese I've ever had, I swear) and then I had a chicken, sweet potatoes and grape salad. My next conclusion-- there's something to be said for really good food in the middle of the day.
As I drove, I was singing at the top of my lungs to Snow Patrol's "Set the Fire to the Third Bar." Normally I'm just a so-so Snow Patrol fan, but I'm kind of obsessed with that one song. Singing totally cheers me up, but I think that's because I have a tendency to belt it when I'm in a good mood.
It only helps that today was a warm, beautiful day. But, that's kind of an afterthought. Once I think to myself "I'm happy," I think, "It's warm and beautiful; I'm happy." It's like the icing on the cake. Of course, if it's nasty outside (as it often is in Philly, that's enough to swing my mood in the opposite direction and make me really work to think positive).
And then, once I'm happy, I'm more generous instead of hating the other drivers on the road. I'm excited to go to work and I appreciate the little things, especially about the people I'm with. Once I have a small foundation of happiness, it's easier to build on it-- to remember the other pieces that lead to happiness, like being thankful for the people around me, and remembering to slow down and appreciate things. If I don't have that foundation, it's almost impossible to move forward from there.
But what builds the foundation? The cleaning? The music? The food? All of it? Or none? Is the foundation of happiness simply a chemical balance in my brain that I can't control-- the scientific equivalent to waking up on the right side of the bed in the morning? In other words, is my day-to-day happiness sheer luck?
I shall have to do more reconnaissance.
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