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2009.03.01 11.57 Happiness is... (the sequel) On March 31st, 2006, I wrote a blog post titled Happiness is.... Upon stumbling across it, I thought it would be fun to write a new one. Happiness is... A hot cup of coffee and some quiet time on a Sunday morning Buying a new book Picking wildflowers Being with friends Having no one tell me what to do Hearing a song you really want to hear come on the radio Yoga A loving embrace A hot shower Knowledge that summer is around the corner... Music: none |
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2007.10.24 09.47 Storybook Life I love to read. I have probably over 200 books in my collection and I borrow books from friends and family on a regular basis. What is the driving force behind my motivation to open a book and become enveloped in a world of make-believe or a world of knowledge and fact? If I base my answer solely on fiction books, without the pursuit of knowledge as a factor, then I can say it is probably because I love the twists and idiosyncrisies of the characters I come to know, and the strange and unpredictable things that occur. Something I have been thinking about lately is what my life looks like as a book. I'm not going to write a book about my life or anything like that, I just wanted to see if I liked what I read~ if I had done good things with my time, was happy, loving, etc. Looking back, there are many things I would opt to change. Some of the resentful things I may have said or done to others in anger, the fact that a decent percentage of my teens was spent in depression, idly letting time slip by without doing anything to help myself. I even am upset that there are so many "love stories". Now, I have really only ever loved one other person aside from Jesse and he knows who he is, but, I have had several painful experiences with relationships. Sure, they helped to build who I am now, but sometimes I wonder if I would have been better without some of the pain that will never leave me. It would be untrue to say that I only ever loved one other person. I loved a few. But it was love in the sense of an agape or philia love, not eros. They are mostly all painful for me in some way or another, but the one I really loved still is painful even though I've moved on. So, since I've been thinking about my life as a story book, I've been focusing on the "right" ways to behave and dictate my life so that my story looks good when it is finished. I cannot take back the things I've done in the past, which makes me feel uncomfortable in the case of being judged someday, if that happens. But if it is all nothingness in the end, I still want to have a good story to look back on when I am on my deathbed. The reason why I love reading so much, however, is not because the stories are pleasant with perfect endings. That would be predictable and boring, like a Disney movie. The reason why I desire to pick up a book and lose myself in it is because of the unplausible, even horrific and distateful things that unfold. Of course, if the book was merely about the horrendous without the thread of dignity, compassion, or love woven through, I don't think it would be a good story at all. My life is a concoction of mess and beauty and it has brought me this far. I advocate living one's life in a manner that is peaceful and loving, but I guess I have to embrace the nasty things, the painful experiences and even, the things I regret for they are what have made me so interesting. I am a product of my story. I don't want to be a fairytale princess, so I have to stand proud with the fact that I've had my heart broken, didn't find love on the first try, and have done unmentionable things in my past. This is my story. |
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2007.09.28 19.36 here It's weird. You're on the East Coast. So close. But I can't feel you at all. It's as if you don't exist. Someone so loved, once, now, so extinct. |
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