two kinds of ice cream

i was all set to pen a scathing diatribe about my utter hatred of all things coffee and the pretentiousness of java lovers worldwide, but quite frankly, i'm just too sleepy to muster the necessary ill will to compose such a bitter screed. so instead, i'll respond to a query directed my way from a most unusual, and hitherto anonymous, source. the query? are you happy, sir? what an interesting question. am i happy? well, i suppose i'm happy, but i guess it all depends on how one wishes to define happiness. i smile quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. i know a girl who is always smiling, even when she is decidedly unhappy. in fact, the more unhappy she becomes, the more she chooses to force out a smile. so perhaps smiling should not be used as the litmus test for happiness. i laugh quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. there is a homeless man living behind the library near my condo who is always giggling to himself. but he also sobs loudly for hours at a time and eats garbage from a nearby dumpster. and sometimes he shouts angrily at invisible enemies. so perhaps laughing should not be used as the litmus test for happiness either. i appear to walk confidently through life quite a bit. is that happiness? hmmm... maybe not. my best friend in high school could certainly be described as someone who appeared to walk confidently through life. but once, during a moment of grim revelation, he admitted to me that his public persona was just that - a persona. secretly, he would later confess, life was a challenge for him as he struggled desperately with issues of self-image and adolescent insecurities. yes, but everyone loves being with you, i asserted in his defence. that may be true, he would reply, but the real question is: do i love being with myself? so perhaps walking confidently through life should not be used as the litmus test for happiness. ok, so what then is the determining factor in terms of defining true happiness? surely no one can be genuinely happy all of the time? that much is obvious to me. and where exactly is the dividing line between happiness and mere contentment? between contentment and mere being. ah, who the hell knows. i sure don't. but i do know that writing about happiness hasn't added to my own level of happiness one iota. so maybe i'll do now what i always do when i wish to feel happier. i'll go check on my sleeping daughters for a few minutes before returning to the computer to search for tunes on youtube. it hasn't failed me yet.

"there's no point to any of this. it's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. so I take pleasure in the details. you know... a quarter-pounder with cheese, those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain, the moment where your laughter become a cackle... and i, i sit back and i smoke my camel straights and i ride my own melt." - reality bites (1994)

the ultimate panacea, pick-me-up and cure-all for all that ails you: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xz-UvQYAmbg