How to measure happiness

Don’t you think it’s better to be extremely happy for a short while… than to be just okay for your whole life?
–Audrey Niffenegger/the Time Traveler’s Wife

It’s an important question, don’t you think? It’s a question that would determine a lot of things about how you live your life. Who you live with, what job you do, where you live, what sort of standard of living you have. Everything.

Or is the question really if happiness is something for the privileged people to worry about?

The cool thing is that we each have different things that make us happy. Some of us don’t even care about happiness in this life at all. Those of us who don’t believe in an afterlife think they are insane.

And then, is happiness what it’s all really about?

No, I’m not planning on answering any of these questions. Not right this minute. It’s not like I am any kind of expert on happiness, or anything really.

I do think I am very lucky to have had at least one time in my life when I was perfectly happy. A fairly short time. Months, not quite years. And many times when I am fairly happy. I laugh a lot even when I am unhappy overall.

Do I think that those brief, radiant times are better than a lifetime of being “just ok” though?

How would I even go about deciding something like that?

I know I wouldn’t trade that short time for anything, but in a way it also makes it harder. Maybe happiness like that sets a standard that can’t be maintained. Maybe not even matched.

Maybe what is important isn’t happiness so much as serenity.

Maybe this is such a First World problem that it makes me cringe a bit just thinking about it.

Maybe I should just go to bed and try to sleep.
This could be the night it happens.
I’ve always been a good sleeper. I just need to get my sleeping groove back.

That. Would be happiness.







An imaginary conversation about name calling

This conversation would be a lot more fun if you were participating in it.

I’m sorry–what were you saying?

Oh, never mind. It isn’t important.

No, really. What is it?

The moment has passed, it’s OK.

Don’t be like that.

Like what?

Petulant.

Petulant? Thanks. I was trying to be considerate since you are working. It just wasn’t worth repeating.

What do you want to rant about now?

Want to? Actually, I didn’t want to. Hence the “never mind” and “not important.”

You are being kind of passive aggressive, don’t you think?

Considerate would be the word I’d use. I’m apparently on some sort of petulant yet passive aggressive roll today. I appreciate you letting me know about it. I might never have known otherwise.

If you tell me that wasn’t sarcastic, I will punch you in the nuts.

I don’t have nuts.

Willfully missing the point? Can you concede sarcasm and being overly literal?

Conceded. IF…

If?

If you will concede that you are acting like a dick and apologize for referring for referring to the person who asked you if you wanted a glass of wine as petulant and passive aggressive.

You were offering me a drink?

I was. I tried asking you several times.

Is it too late now?

It depends on the sincerity of your groveling when you apologize.

I’m sorry, but I am not very good at apologies. Or groveling.

Or listening. Wow, you aren’t kidding about not being good at it. You must not want any wine. Or a salty dog. Or a blow job. Like, ever again.

Maybe I should practice a bit and try later. I like all of the things you just mentioned. A lot.

Uh huh. I mean, sure, you can get a bartender to bring you the drinks…but I am not going to be tolerant of someone else taking over sexual favors.

OK. You’re right. We can fix this. I am thinking of an offer that you might find acceptable.

Seriously? You are going to try to make a deal to get out of apologizing?

It’s my nature to make deals. I think we can make this into a mutually beneficial transaction.

Let me hear it.

I will provide an adequate but not stellar apology, then I will bring you a drink, and take you out to dinner.

We were going out to dinner anyway. Apology, drink, dinner wherever I want to go here in town, I get to pick the movie and we both put all electronic devices away for the night.

Agreed, with a few amendments: if we need to look up something related to the movie, we are allowed to do so if we put the phone away immediately. And we bring a phone in the car in case of emergency.

Deal. I’m a little surprised you didn’t try for any sexual favors. Or offer any.

That was very civilized of us. I’m very sorry I called you petulant and passive aggressive. You are neither, and I love you.

That was very good. Apology accepted. Please ask the bartender to bring me a tequila greyhound while I consider dinner.

Oui, Madame. I hope Madame will be happy with the service in this establishment.

The waiter smells really good…do you think he puts out?







This blog has been preempted…

By an unexpected visit to the Tequila Palace for dinner and boozes. Sorry.

As I was leaving, Chelle asked me how I was going to pull of a blog about hard cider, pubic hair, chillum pipes, leftovers and avocado chocolate pudding. I told her I probably wouldn’t pull it off at all.

Then I started to twitch because it was 10pm and I had barely started a blog before we decided to share our leftovers while Chelle made paleo breakfast cookies and I had a compulsive need to write something even though I am sleepy and medicated and maybe a little buzzed. Wow. Punctuation, maybe? Anyway. I needed to write something before I fall asleep so…I am.

Sorry.

You can stop reading at any point. I won’t mind.

I would not be a bit surprised if I stopped writing suddenly, either.

As usual, there was interesting conversation while Chelle made cookies and we tasted cherry-apple hard cider. We talked about how some people have weirdly strong preferences about pubic hair, how irritating it is to get one stuck in your teeth, and how some people are lying through their, uh, teeth, if they say that never happens to them no matter how much hair is involved. There is just no way to avoid it. It’s the one upside to hair removal! It isn’t because of how it looks, in my opinion.

I probably should have warned sensitive people, and my Mother to skip this one, huh?

It’s not likely to get much better. Why do I say that? Just a feeling…

After the cookies came out of the oven, we put our dinner together, talked about boys, and Googled for information on chillum pipes because I wasn’t sure I remembered anything about them. Much like I don’t remember anything I am writing now!

Then, we switched to wine and enjoyed some curiously delicious chocolate avocado pudding while trying to figure out just how I was going to come up with something to write about again.

Socializing and writing? Not very compatible.

It’s a good thing Chelle told me what to write about.

And now I have one more thing to try the next time I am not sure what to write about: take 4 random concepts and combine them in 1 post. That’s not exactly what I am doing now. Those words were actually the evening’s highlights.

If you can call pubic hair and avocado pudding “highlights.”
Which I definitely do.

Oh, and we liked the Julian Cherry Bomb the best.

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