So... it's 2:42 am. I've finished cleaning the apartment. I'm totally packed. Prepared to pay a fortune for an oversized bag and a box that I was not expecting to have to bring home (planning ahead is apparently not one of my strengths). Sitting on the couch wondering what comes next.
Deep down, I know I'm tired. I mean, it's 2:42 in the morning. But I can't bring myself to go to bed. If I go to bed, it's over. I wake up in the morning, make a mad dash to the post-office, and then the airport, and then suddenly... back to Philadelphia.
I don't know what it is about me and places.
I took an urban studies research class in high school where we studied "sense of place"--the significance people impart to their surroundings. In other words, why live here instead of there? Where does "local pride" come from? What does local even mean? The premise of the class was that place is a completely abstract concept. Despite the fact that it's concrete-- you can go someplace. There are buildings and streets, and names etc. A place doesn't exist outside of what people make of it.
I feel very strongly about place, particularly about place and happiness. If you don't "fit" in the place where you are (if your sense of self is at odds with your location's sense of place), then it will be very difficult to be happy. Not impossible, I don't think, but difficult.
The trick is to define (or re-define) your location in terms that mesh with your sense of self.
Part of my problem with Philadelphia, I think, is that the city's sense of place doesn't fit my own personality. I like it there. It's a nice place to be. Penn is a good school. But... it always feels like something's missing. It's always a struggle to have to return.
Of course, returning to Philadelphia throws into question this particular endeavor. After all, the California Project was only valid while I remained in California. What now?
I can't abandon my quest for happiness. Especially now that I'm going someplace where I face even more adversity. But, I do need time for evaluation and reflection.
How have I do so far? What needs to change? Where have I failed, and where did I succeed?
Of course, if anyone is out there reading this... Would you start again with me once school starts? A sort of happiness renaissance, if you will?
What do you want to know?
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Complainasaurous
I am a Complainasaurous. It is, according to Adam, a new species of dinosaur recently discovered on the North American continent.
Really, I just let the little things get me down. I dwell. I hold grudges. I get pissed about things, and then I look for excuses for my bad mood-- and then that just prolongs it. This weekend, my computer broke. I went out a bought a new one. I am lucky enough that this was not a huge problem, but a mild inconvenience. Still, every time I feel myself being bothered, I think, "my computer broke. My phone broke (it did. I have to go back to the Apple store today). I have so many reasons to be in a bad mood."
I googled "How to improve your mood" and it came up with 21 suggestions (some of which seem VERY silly). I found 5 that I'm going to try:
1. Be curious. People who are interested in people and other things are more likely to be happy.
2. Don't dwell on the past. My friend has a motto "forgive yourself, move on." It's better to focus on improving the future than moping over what you should have done. I need to find better coping strategies for so many of my problems, rather than sink down into sadness for what I don't handle well.
3. Act the Part. Apparently, if you pretend to be happy, you'll be happy.
4. Breathe deeply. People who suffer from depression often are shallow breathers.
5. Don't eat junk food. The spike of sugar improves your mood, but once your blood sugar drops, you get really depressed.
Really, I do not have good reasons for being upset. Making excuses doesn't do anybody any good. I know that. I also know that the reason I am falling into a perpetual bad mood is because I am going back. I leave California tomorrow. But, that doesn't mean that I have to give up everything that California means. I can take so much of this with me. I keep telling myself that, at least.
Really, I just let the little things get me down. I dwell. I hold grudges. I get pissed about things, and then I look for excuses for my bad mood-- and then that just prolongs it. This weekend, my computer broke. I went out a bought a new one. I am lucky enough that this was not a huge problem, but a mild inconvenience. Still, every time I feel myself being bothered, I think, "my computer broke. My phone broke (it did. I have to go back to the Apple store today). I have so many reasons to be in a bad mood."
I googled "How to improve your mood" and it came up with 21 suggestions (some of which seem VERY silly). I found 5 that I'm going to try:
1. Be curious. People who are interested in people and other things are more likely to be happy.
2. Don't dwell on the past. My friend has a motto "forgive yourself, move on." It's better to focus on improving the future than moping over what you should have done. I need to find better coping strategies for so many of my problems, rather than sink down into sadness for what I don't handle well.
3. Act the Part. Apparently, if you pretend to be happy, you'll be happy.
4. Breathe deeply. People who suffer from depression often are shallow breathers.
5. Don't eat junk food. The spike of sugar improves your mood, but once your blood sugar drops, you get really depressed.
Really, I do not have good reasons for being upset. Making excuses doesn't do anybody any good. I know that. I also know that the reason I am falling into a perpetual bad mood is because I am going back. I leave California tomorrow. But, that doesn't mean that I have to give up everything that California means. I can take so much of this with me. I keep telling myself that, at least.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Just When it Look like Everything Worked Out...
I'm starting to believe that this is a way for two people to communicate and come to a compromise, although for some reason, that never seems to be how it turns out.
All of the problems of this morning disappeared this afternoon-- and were replaced by more concrete, unmanageable problems.
Suddenly I'm wondering, how much do I want my Penn degree? And if I can get a degree, how much do I want the degree I chose?
Happiness, as I keep on realizing, is largely the ability to accurately value everything in our lives. Well, more than that-- it's the ability to relatively value things accurately. That is-- how much do I value the degree I chose over the opportunity that's presented itself? How much do I value the ability to graduate in a semester versus having to take summer classes? How much do I value that ability to make money (with a job) versus losing money paying rent in two different cities?
And then, how much do I value my future? And how can I even try to value my future when I don't know what's going to create a future or where along the line I'm going to make a mistake?
All of the problems of this morning disappeared this afternoon-- and were replaced by more concrete, unmanageable problems.
Suddenly I'm wondering, how much do I want my Penn degree? And if I can get a degree, how much do I want the degree I chose?
Happiness, as I keep on realizing, is largely the ability to accurately value everything in our lives. Well, more than that-- it's the ability to relatively value things accurately. That is-- how much do I value the degree I chose over the opportunity that's presented itself? How much do I value the ability to graduate in a semester versus having to take summer classes? How much do I value that ability to make money (with a job) versus losing money paying rent in two different cities?
And then, how much do I value my future? And how can I even try to value my future when I don't know what's going to create a future or where along the line I'm going to make a mistake?
Wednesday. My Day Off.
Just for the record, I swear that as soon as I finish writing this, I am going to Starbucks, getting a GIANT chai tea, and writing at least three more pages of Mr. Mao. I'm saying it upfront so the entire world knows it and I can't back out.
The past 24 hours with me would be a psychologist's dream. Actually, just this morning provides an adequate example--
I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up early, probably because of the weird dreams. Unable to concentrate at home, I walked to Starbucks. When I found out that I wasn't going into work today, I walked back home. Then, decided to go shopping. I got my hair cut at a completely random place, a walk-in, where I confessed all my problems to the hairdresser (if you don't know me, that is very unusual). I also bought a second pair or earings to wear in the double piercings that I never wear. I contemplated re-piercing my nose, but decided against it. I'm sitting here re-reading the description of my day, eyebrows raised, wondering if I sound as crazy as I think I do.
Really, this is all coming from some weird insecurity that I'm not "cool" enough. I know it, but I'm not strong enough to fight against it.
I'm doing stupid ineffective things like getting my hair cut and buying earings to try and answer the question: Am I the kind of person who throws their plans out the window?
I used to be. That's why I was contemplating the nose piercing. Freshman year of college I decided to get my nose pierced-- that was the weekend I'd decided to cut class and convinced Adam and Monica to go to DC. I just walked into a place and did it. Of course, things like that don't work out with me. It got infected and one thing led to another... Even so, I wonder if I'd still have it today.
Okay, let's be honest. Here's what I'm actually trying to ask: How are we supposed to make happiness-based decisions? I wrote a week ago that there is no future, but I'm realizing now that that's not entirely true. Even if the future is an abstract concept, eventually it becomes the present, and in the present we have to face decisions we made in the past. Duh. But how are we supposed to know what's going to make us the happiest?
I'm facing a decision that's so obvious it seems stupid I'm conflicted about it (with the exception that I might not graduate from college). There's every reason to go one way, except-- how much do I care about my relationship? How in love am I, and am I about to ruin that, again? These days, they tell girls that careers should come first; that we should never compromise "who we are" for someone else. But what if that other person has become a part of who we are? What do we do then?
The past 24 hours with me would be a psychologist's dream. Actually, just this morning provides an adequate example--
I couldn't sleep last night. I woke up early, probably because of the weird dreams. Unable to concentrate at home, I walked to Starbucks. When I found out that I wasn't going into work today, I walked back home. Then, decided to go shopping. I got my hair cut at a completely random place, a walk-in, where I confessed all my problems to the hairdresser (if you don't know me, that is very unusual). I also bought a second pair or earings to wear in the double piercings that I never wear. I contemplated re-piercing my nose, but decided against it. I'm sitting here re-reading the description of my day, eyebrows raised, wondering if I sound as crazy as I think I do.
Really, this is all coming from some weird insecurity that I'm not "cool" enough. I know it, but I'm not strong enough to fight against it.
I'm doing stupid ineffective things like getting my hair cut and buying earings to try and answer the question: Am I the kind of person who throws their plans out the window?
I used to be. That's why I was contemplating the nose piercing. Freshman year of college I decided to get my nose pierced-- that was the weekend I'd decided to cut class and convinced Adam and Monica to go to DC. I just walked into a place and did it. Of course, things like that don't work out with me. It got infected and one thing led to another... Even so, I wonder if I'd still have it today.
Okay, let's be honest. Here's what I'm actually trying to ask: How are we supposed to make happiness-based decisions? I wrote a week ago that there is no future, but I'm realizing now that that's not entirely true. Even if the future is an abstract concept, eventually it becomes the present, and in the present we have to face decisions we made in the past. Duh. But how are we supposed to know what's going to make us the happiest?
I'm facing a decision that's so obvious it seems stupid I'm conflicted about it (with the exception that I might not graduate from college). There's every reason to go one way, except-- how much do I care about my relationship? How in love am I, and am I about to ruin that, again? These days, they tell girls that careers should come first; that we should never compromise "who we are" for someone else. But what if that other person has become a part of who we are? What do we do then?
Monday, August 23, 2010
Train
Today, I made a bad decision. I can’t go back on it, so I’m trying very, very hard to live with it.
I’m currently (well, not currently as when this is posted, but currently as when I am writing this) on the train from LA to San Diego. It has some fancy name like Skyliner or Skynet; I don’t remember. The point is, I am stuck on a train going no more than forty miles an hour, without internet, and WITHOUT MY PHONE.
You’ve seen me post about my phone several times. I’m kind of attached. My phone was stolen last May and it was a very traumatic experience.
I realized I didn’t have my phone 5 minutes before the train left. I reached into my bag and voilà—no phone. Panicked, I emptied the bag, twice. I remember searching through the bag earlier this morning for the little pouch to put the phone in. I remember putting the phone in the pouch. I have no idea if I then put the phone into the bag. If I did not, it’s still at home. If I did, then it’s somewhere in my car, or mysteriously disappeared in the walk from the car to the train station. What could I do? I ran off the train. The conductor stopped me—obviously I was crazy. Who misses a train because they can’t find their phone? The next train was at 8:30, an hour from now. That would put me into San Diego at 10:30, which I had decided yesterday was too late. I stood on the platform, torn. Then I jumped onto the train.
Now I’m pouting on the top row of the train, listening to it hoot joyfully and I’m not quite so joyful. It sways back and forth and all I can think is that I don’t have my phone. Where could it be? What if I’m wrong and there’s a forth possibility and it’s completely lost and I never find it again? I try to reconcile myself to that possibility. I imagine jumping off the train and running back to Los Angeles. It would be possible and I was totally going to do it at the next stop, but the conductor just came by and clipped my ticket. I’m stuck. Phoneless. On a train.
The good news is, I can survive phoneless. I borrowed a friendly fellow passenger’s phone to call my mother (who didn’t answer, big surprise) and ask her to tell my Aunt that I’m coming in and beg Adam to track the phone—at least in two hours I will know exactly where it is. And, if anyone has taken my phone since it has been unattended, I can stalk them via the internet. As soon as I get off this damn train.
I’m currently (well, not currently as when this is posted, but currently as when I am writing this) on the train from LA to San Diego. It has some fancy name like Skyliner or Skynet; I don’t remember. The point is, I am stuck on a train going no more than forty miles an hour, without internet, and WITHOUT MY PHONE.
You’ve seen me post about my phone several times. I’m kind of attached. My phone was stolen last May and it was a very traumatic experience.
I realized I didn’t have my phone 5 minutes before the train left. I reached into my bag and voilà—no phone. Panicked, I emptied the bag, twice. I remember searching through the bag earlier this morning for the little pouch to put the phone in. I remember putting the phone in the pouch. I have no idea if I then put the phone into the bag. If I did not, it’s still at home. If I did, then it’s somewhere in my car, or mysteriously disappeared in the walk from the car to the train station. What could I do? I ran off the train. The conductor stopped me—obviously I was crazy. Who misses a train because they can’t find their phone? The next train was at 8:30, an hour from now. That would put me into San Diego at 10:30, which I had decided yesterday was too late. I stood on the platform, torn. Then I jumped onto the train.
Now I’m pouting on the top row of the train, listening to it hoot joyfully and I’m not quite so joyful. It sways back and forth and all I can think is that I don’t have my phone. Where could it be? What if I’m wrong and there’s a forth possibility and it’s completely lost and I never find it again? I try to reconcile myself to that possibility. I imagine jumping off the train and running back to Los Angeles. It would be possible and I was totally going to do it at the next stop, but the conductor just came by and clipped my ticket. I’m stuck. Phoneless. On a train.
The good news is, I can survive phoneless. I borrowed a friendly fellow passenger’s phone to call my mother (who didn’t answer, big surprise) and ask her to tell my Aunt that I’m coming in and beg Adam to track the phone—at least in two hours I will know exactly where it is. And, if anyone has taken my phone since it has been unattended, I can stalk them via the internet. As soon as I get off this damn train.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Saturday Afternoon
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.
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.
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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