The Painful Pursuit of Happiness

Pursuing happiness, in all of its divine glory, is like chasing the moon or falling in love with a prostitute. It's just not practical. At least that's what I've been told. My mother thinks happiness (i.e. freedom, spontaneity, optimism, creativity) is childish. She is convinced that responsible people don't walk around thinking about being "happy" all the time. "Life is what you make it," she says. "There are things we don't want to do, but we just have to do them anyway." With that said, happiness, depending on personal interpretation and definition, is an endangered emotion.

I am convinced that it is being preserved in the safest corners of our hearts. Many of us have tucked it away for safe keeping. It's a box which houses photos with an ex, t-shirts from college, basketball trophies from high school, and...childhood. I wake up every morning, desperate to attain the joy that so many spend a lifetime lusting after. I am desperate to live a life that does not revolve around business meetings, conferences, impossible mortgages and company luncheons.

Happiness, in my opinion, has nothing to do with beach houses, Coach purses, Dior fragrances, and foreign cars. It is not synonymous with briar creek country club or seven for all mankind or corner office. Happiness is a decision. To pursue it is pursue self. The secret is to refuse to live another day being miserable and to "do what you feel". I know, I know. I sound like a hippie. But
I've watched so many people, including those who've told me to stop giggling all the time and to look for a real (i.e. depressing, exhausting) job, lose their husbands/wives/joy/minds while funding a life they never really wanted to live in the first place.

Trust me. I live in Pleasantville. The Desperate Housewives are my neighbors. Everybody bakes cookies here, has yard sales every Saturday (to rid of the useless goodies purchased the week before), reads Southern Living, and...cries at night while journaling about how much life sucks. I know women who wanted to be dancers, chefs, designers, models, singers/producers but are now working at BB&T and asking me if I am having a good day while, simutaneously, thinking about jumping off of a bridge. It's madness.

I know that there are bills to be paid. I'm not condoning bumming your way through life. I absolutely love Coach and Dior. I'm not condoning a life of lack and a closet full of no-name clothing. And, honestly, I live in Pleasantville because I love bake sales and yard sales.

What I can't stand, however, is the sadness in the eyes of so many individuals who wanted more for themselves but were too afraid to pursue authentic, unapologetic, filthy, raw, RELENTLESS happiness. Yes-It's painful to reject the norms. But if you've read Tuesdays with Morrie, you know that "if you don't agree with what popular culture is selling, don't buy it." And I agree. Happily.