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.

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.

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.

Let's be Practical

I keep on going back to the premise that made me start this project.

How is a normal person-- with a job, responsibilities, and no desire to become all weird and preachy-- supposed to change her life without changing who she is, in order to become happier?

The more I get involved in happiness, the more it feels like I have to be all weird and guru-ish in order to find happiness. I keep stumbling upon mantras about happiness; I listen to my meditation tapes and absorb happiness lessons... But no matter what, I feel the most myself when I'm staying up late a night reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo or Twenties Girl (both fantastic books, though very different; both read this week. If you're interested-- buying them from these links will get me a commission!) Very un-guruish.

While I love going to my yoga classes for my weekly dose of mysticism, I really don't want to be all gooey and spiritual.

I wish happiness were a matter of being practical.

It just occurred to me that I am returning, once again, to the realm of
The Happiness Project. Practical happiness.

Perhaps happiness is no more than simply being the person you have always wanted to be.

The Future is Now (sadly)

How many times have I made a resolution for the future? I will start the diet tomorrow. I will exercise tomorrow. I will concentrate on writing once the semester starts.

I have finally come to admit that that is all COMPLETE BULL.

Here's the problem: there is no future. That sounds scary-- but it's actually not. Tomorrow becomes today as soon as the clock strikes midnight. My resolution easily applies to this new "today"-- suddenly "I will start the diet" is easily bumped over to the next day and the next day... I never actually reach the promised "tomorrow."

Unfortunately, the future is now. Today, is yesterday's tomorrow (that sounds like a t-shirt slogan). I'm definitely not the first person to come up with this-- and I know I've heard people tell me that I have to take charge of my life now, not later. But I always kind of blew it off. I mean, it's so much easier to wait until tomorrow. Especially if tomorrow never comes.

So what changed my mind?

One of my friends out here (the one we've decided is destined to be the most successful) Writes regularly in his blog, Greener Grass. He has also (and this is the icing on the cake) just written a book. It's his second book, but it's the one that might get published. He already has an agent. And, he's like the nicest person I know (so out goes the, "well, his life is totally perfect but he's a total dick" excuse).

I have no more excuses. Zach works at this internship. He does research for LMU. He was a Penn student just like me (he just graduated). There is no reason why I can't finish my book. I just need to stop making these resolutions telling myself I'll start working harder tomorrow.

My screenwriting professor, when she wrote her book, woke up at 4 am every morning to be able to write before her kids woke up. Then, she went to work. I can barely haul myself out of bed at 8 to go to work. And if I don't have to... I skipped yoga this morning to sleep in until 11.

I have to remember: there is no tomorrow. There is only today, and what I decide to do with it.

For starters, I can stop watching five hours of 30 Rock every night.

More Pigs

Sometimes, you just need to remember what's really important in life.

A Year of Complete Happiness?

Cathal Morrow has an interesting theory. "happy / unhappy are entirely unrelated," he writes, "happiness is a permanent state in us all, if we allow it to be."

He's testing his theory in a different sort of happiness project, called a year of complete happiness. His goal is to find the happiness that exists in every single moment, rather than continually seek happiness elsewhere. In a way, his project is very similar to Gretchen Rubin's, except his is a little more philosophical.

I can't help but wonder if Cathal is right. Is happiness a permanent state?

I've always believed that our permanent state is neutral, and it's up to our actions to boost ourselves up or down. But if Cathal is right, we ought to appreciate our "default settings" more.

Just for kicks, I'm posting a picture of the newest additions to my "cute" collection. My owl mug, and two kokeshi dolls. :)