Ready for another happiness entry? Don't say I didn't warn you.

Bertrand Russell says something to the effect of how we should keep our expectations low. If you want happiness and reach for an achievable goal, you're likely to reach your goal and thus feel happy. Which sounds pretty reasonable at first look.

Then again, who wants to be reasonable?

I've been thinking a lot about this happiness thing. Having almost reached the end of the class, I must say that there are two major facts I've learned:

1. There are no quick formulas to happiness.
2. Most of the philosophers believed happiness was unreachable, could only be reached through religion or required a stringent regime of everyday self-brainwashing.

None of the above options are all that appealing to me.

The practical advice of "keep your expectations low" clashes with the ambition and optimism of "reach for the skies." I agree that if you keep your expectations really high, you're likely to never reach them and thus not feel fulfilled. But is that worse than never expecting much from yourself to begin with?

Russell does place a tremendous value on striving. He believes you should always be learning new things and working to achieve something. Considering how amazing he was, his idea of "aiming low" might be a lot higher than I am imagining. I hope it is because the idea of people having to aim low to stay happy is quite depressing to me.

If we all aimed low and didn't reach for things that appeared beyond the horizon, how would anything get done? I am willing to admit that different people have different ranges and we're not all equal in our abilities, but we all have ranges and I've always advocated working towards being on the high end of one's range. I feel like a person can't really know his range until he tries to push against its boundaries.

Aiming low feels like playing with the cards we're dealt. Which, at one point, might have sounded like good advice to me, but now it doesn't. I know that the cards we're dealt don't mean everything. Like in a game of poker, we can turn some of them in for new ones. There might be a few we're stuck with but not as many as most people make it out to be. And what's the fun in playing the same hand over and over again?

Keeping track is another subject matter that I somehow cannot correlate with happiness. Contentment, maybe but not happiness. But that's for another day.

For me happiness is feeling more than content. Happiness is achieved when you reach something you didn't think you would. When you tried really hard, when you put yourself out there on the ledge. When you reached higher than you thought you could. That's when success is extraordinary. That's when one gets overwhelmed with happiness.

Or maybe I'm wrong and stuck with eternal unhappiness.

Previously? I Have No Idea.

Before you can learn, you have to admit that you don't know.

We live in a society where there are rules about what one is supposed to know by a certain age. Or in a certain environment. If you're an educated individual, there are sets of information you'd better possess. What if you don't know these crucial bits of data? Shame on you.

That's what it's all about: shame.

We, as a society, manage to shame people into hiding their lack of knowledge. If two people are in conversation and one is dropping names of political figures that the other hasn't heard of, would the other person ask the speaker to clarify?

How often have we heard: "You know what that is, right?"

How often have we nodded along when we had no idea but felt too embarrassed to admit it.

The fact is it's not the knowledgeable person's fault, either. How's she or he to know that you don't know? If you act like you know and you act well, the other person will never feel the need to explain and they shouldn't have to.

What we need to do is to remove the pressure of having to know. We need to teach that lack of knowledge is not a bad thing. Lack of willingness to learn, maybe. But not lack of knowledge.

I am often not afraid to admit what I don't know. There are a million things I don't know and I am really dying to learn. If I don't tell people that I don't know, they will never take the time to explain it to me and I will never learn. The fear of not getting the chance to learn is what motivates me to admit my lack of knowledge. Somehow I lack the necessary shame.

I don't know why, but I certainly wish everyone did.

When we're young, we're not expected to know so it's easy to ask. Sometimes people explain even before we ask. But somewhere along the line, we reach a point where expectations rise and we stop asking. Instead we learn to play along. To act like we know.

Which is why we will never actually know.

Previously? Color.

I'm taking a graphic design class this semester.

I've always wished I could be good at the arts. When I was young, my mom sent my sister and me to a weekend drawing course. Every Saturday morning she would drive us over and we'd spend five hours or so staring at a bunch of apples in a bowl. Even though my creations during those five hours surpassed anything I did elsewhere, claiming they were anything besides 'a decent effort' would be an outright lie.

My mom is an amazing artist. At nineteen, she won a scholarship to an art school in Italy, which she turned down by choosing to marry my father instead. She's done jewelry design, Koran art, interior decorating, and plain drawing. Some of those genes could have come my way.

But they didn't.

I've taken classes in art, 2-d animation, 3-d graphics, graphic design, and pottery. Some of them, I took several times. Some of them, I even enjoyed.

But not graphic design.

My graphic design teacher is treating us like real graphic designers. She's giving us real assignments. Critiquing our work as if she were a client. That's why she's a good teacher. So I know it's not her fault. I'm not even taking the class for credit, and yet I stress before each assignment. I annoy everyone around me, asking for reaffirmation, begging for approval.

This week's assignment is to create a self-identity. Since I'm not taking the class for credit and since I've been thinking it's time for a redesign, I asked her if I could do my web page instead. She said okay.

I spent yesterday going through the 250 fonts on my machine, trying to pick one that represented me. I didn't know what I was looking for but I figured I'd find it when I saw it. Not true. When I finally settled on one, it was mostly cause it looked like handwriting, giving me a diary-ish feeling. I started with my typical purple, and went through seventeen color changes before settling on these. I put black and white photos, changed them to color. I put them on the side, on the top, on the bottom. I moved everything around too many times. After hours, everything started blending into each other and I decided it was time to stop.

So here it is. A new page. Some color.

I'm not changing the archives, I'll integrate it as I go along. I'm not done with this design, it might change. Got opinions? Tell me publicly, tell me privately. Tell me either way.

At least it's got color.

Previously? Thankful.

An impending interview.

Love.

A healing back.

Rice and bean quesadillas.

Books.

New friends.

Boundless possibilities.

An amazing family.

Diet Coke. Diet Peach Snapple.

Not having to wear glasses.

New York Public Library.

Cupcik.

Hand-knit scarves.

My nephews.

Photographs and music.

Email.

Kindness.

Colorful leaves.

Babies' giggles.

Puppies.

Old friends.

Making peace. Maybe.

Previously? Sure.

"Sure" is officially one of my least favorite words.

At least one of its uses, that is. I have absolutely no problems with it when it's used in the following context:

"Are you positive John's going to show up to work tomorrow?"

"I am 100% sure."

Or

"Are you sure that was Jenny with James?"

"Absolutely"

Using the word sure to mean 'confident' doesn't aggravate me. But then there are these cases:

"Do you want to go out to dinner after work?"

"Yeah, sure."

Or

"Is it okay if I bring Ellen along?"

"Sure, sure."

To normal people, there's absolutely nothing wrong with the above sets of dialogue. But, they drive me absolutely mad. I've noticed this unnerving sensation a while ago and couldn't put my fingers on the exact source of the problem. Then, last night, it hit me: I don't like the non-committal undertone of the word. I think it's ironic that even though the actual meaning of 'sure' is 'certain' which is a strong, absolute emotion, it's often used in cases where one's trying to say "it's fine" or "I don't mind" neither of which are confident phrases.

You might think I'm insane, and it might even be true, but I seem to be surrounded by people who are using 'sure' in that very context, continuously. Since I'm an opinionated person, one would think I'd like to be surrounded by people who are easygoing. Amazingly, that's not the case. I like people who stand for something. Even something as stupid as what sort of movie to see or where to eat dinner. To me "sure, sure" sounds like someone who's going along with what I say. Someone with no preferences or opinions of his own.

It just sounds so wishy-washy.

Or maybe I've gone mad.

I could tell you stories on how "interesting" is climbing up the charts, too, but I think I've said enough for today.

Previously? Living.

It's like this.

Since September, I've been struggling to keep writing. Not because I don't want to, but because most of the topics I used to find interesting don't seem to be anymore, at least not to me. I'm sure things will eventually work themselves out and I will find the time and energy to ponder random things once again, but till then I apologize for the lack of consistent updates, especially in my side sections like tidbits, learned things, and aiptek pictures.

I spend many nights sitting at my laptop trying to will myself into writing, but I can't. I don't even want to sit at home anymore. I want to go out, be with people. Somehow remind myself that life is going on, in its charming, annoying, delightful, fun and sad ways. I want to talk until I'm blue in the face, I want to listen until I'm falling asleep. I want to laugh and hug.

At the times I don't crave human attention, I long for the opposite. I take a good book and curl up or turn the TV up all the way, enough to block my thoughts. Part of me wants the days to pass and another part wishes she could stop time. There are moments I want to hang on to badly.

As if to reassure me, my laptop broke yesterday. I was trying to take out one of the books it's stacked on and I dropped it, causing the A/C adapter to split in half, inside the machine. I spent all of yesterday running from uptown to downtown, trying to replace the part, only to find out that it's not possible. I have to order it directly from Toshiba. At night, when I finally collapsed on the couch, I ordered the part and decided to relax. It's amazing how stressed a tiny glitch can make me at times. Yet when the world falls apart around me, I manage not to freak out.

So I might not write very often lately. If you like my site, take this as an opportunity to explore the archives. I've got a lot of words on this site and I guarantee they'd keep you busy for quite some time. I will be writing again real soon, I'm sure. Knowing me, I'll even update tomorrow, after having said all this. But it's important to say it anyhow. This way, when I look back years later, I can remember why.

Just a little down time.

I want to temporarily stop thinking so much and start living more.

Previously? Tidbits of Conversation.

I pick up the receiver and put it back down. I want to call. I think I want to. I know I want to. But I can't. A call I made thousands of times, a call that used to be a routine part of my day.

Not this time. Not anymore. Now it comes loaded with 'issues.' Bits of conversations we never had, words that will not be exchanged. And each time I dial the digits, I wonder how the conversation will go. Will it be lively and fake or cordial and short? Will I play along or will I blow up? Should I play along or should I push it?

It feels like it's been so long. It's well past the irrevocable stage. I try to recall the past. More than anything, I remember the laughter. And then the tears. The problems. The distance. I wonder whether I'd been imagining it all along. Maybe it was never more than what it is now. It's so easy to fall into the pit of self-pity. So easy to stop fighting. So easy to back off. To stop dialing.

Yet it's so hard to let go.

I spend some of my free time volunteering at the Housingworks Used Book Cafe.



















Some of the best people I've met in ages.

Previously? Mentally Horny.

I found something new that makes me horny.

This is less a trait and more like an event that gives me the same rush as being turned on. In the last two weeks, I've had the inklings of two new friendships.

There's something mentally titillating about making a new friend. You're with this new person who knows so very little about you and vice versa. There's an unlimited amount of potential conversations. There are no preconceived notions, no assumptions, no dirty history to drag up. It's brand new and full of possibilities.

New friends open up new worlds. Boundless conversations. New ideas. Someone else's story, their life, their thoughts, their creativity. When I meet someone new, I can't stop thinking about them. I want to hang out with them continuously. When I recall tidbits of our conversations, I smile. It's like my mind is on overdrive. The fun thing is that of my two new possible friends one is a female and the other a male, so I know my excitement is not gender specific.

It's the same exhilaration I get from learning. The idea of knowing something you didn't, the way it changes your mind, your thought process. A new friend, to me, is a new perspective. A new pair of eyes to see life through. Someone who introduces me to a new set of paths.

My two new friends are completely different from each other. They have different pasts, different presents and most likely different futures. But they've both already added seeds into my life. They're a part of my present and will affect my future in some way or another, even if they're not physically in it. Since they help me expand my mind, I find myself horny for the mental stimulation.

Old friends, loved ones and family are indispensable. They are people who love you the way you are. They know your past, they've lived it with you. They have weathered the good and the bad with you. And you know they will be there no matter how far apart you might be physically. They are like a safety blanket.

New friends may come and go. They might turn into something more lasting, or they might never be more than momentary, but even that single moment leaves its traces in your life. Snippets of dialogue. Memories of a shared laugh. A new way to look at an old idea. All of these are just as indispensable.

New friends replenish my mind and revive my mood.

Previously? Satisfaction.

A person should be satisfied with his life not because he feels satisfied, but because he has good reason to be satisfied. - Bertrand Russell

I haven't talked about the happiness class in a while. I like Bertrand Russell cause I agree with many of his thoughts and statements. Mostly because they are so common-sensical.

I haven't read enough of him to say whether I agree with all of his thoughts or not, but I know I like the comments about satisfaction. The terrible thing about most of the people around me is that they have amazing lives and yet they are never satisfied. They live in anticipation. They keep waiting for the next step. The promotion. The raise in salary. More people reporting to them. The bonus.

There is no time to sit and ponder the current situation. There is no time to celebrate. There is no time to appreciate. Life is moving at an unbelievable speed. They need to live in anticipation of the next move. They need to worry about the next step and make sure they're not passed up for the promotion. There is no time to be satisfied. Satisfaction requires a different point of view. It requires one to slow down and deliberate.

Even if they managed to slow down, they'd never notice the problem. Their views are too distorted. They have absolutely no concept of how much money is 'enough.' They don't know what success is. They don't understand that life is passing them by and that they're giving up their youth to corporate America. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing with working in corporate America or making a lot of money. But there is something wrong with a twenty-some year-old who doesn't think that 100grand is a lot of money. There's something wrong with a kid who's only six years out of college and doesn't appreciate the power of having forty people report to him.

These people have long forgotten the feeling of satisfaction. Which is why I find Russell's words sensible. It's not about how you feel, it's about how things are. If you can't see it clearly, ask around. Try to remove your distorting glasses and look again. I'm not simply saying "Be glad you have arms and legs" though that's a more valid point than most make it out to be. I'm not saying be satisfied if you don't have a home to go to. I'm just saying that most of us have an incredible amount to be satisfied about and, for some reason, many of us can't seem to recognize that. I think we're so busy running around, trying to achieve the next thing that we can't feel satisfied. Or the satisfactions are too short and in between struggles.

So maybe Russell's right. It's not about feeling satisfied, it's about being satisfied because you have much reason to and maybe it's not a good idea to involve feelings. Maybe it's just a matter of being rational.

Previously? TV.

I watch every show on TV.

I kid you not. I've always been a total TV-addict. As a kid, I couldn't do my homework unless the TV was on and in college, the first thing I did when I walked into my room was to turn on the TV. It doesn't really matter what's playing; I rarely watch it. I just like the background noise it provides. I know most normal people listen to music for background noise, but that distracts me much more than the TV.

With the addition of Tivo into our lives, it's gotten even easier to watch obscene hours of TV and now, with the shows I choose. I record about five hours of TV a day on week days and two to three hours on weekends. That makes up twenty-nine hours on the recorded stuff alone. Not to mention award shows, one-time movies, etc.

I've met many parents who refuse to have a TV at home because they believe it's bad for their children and that they will become antisocial, etc. I've heard everything from TV makes you lazy to it makes you stupid. I would personally like to be the example case for how it doesn't necessarily do either.

We might be able to debate my level of intelligence but I'm definitely drawing the line on stupid. Or lazy. And it's not like I watch only the science or educational shows. I watch everything. More trash than education. I don't assume TV is there for me to learn from. It's my noise, it's my way to empty out my brain. Some people need a drink when they have a long day. Others exercise.

I watch TV.

I think we should do a study. Compare the kids who grew up watching TV and the ones who weren't allowed. I bet we'd find that the kids who grew up without TV become complete zombies when in front of one. Not to mention the scars from the alienation they must have suffered, at school, when their classmates discussed last evening's episode of a TV show. I want to know whether watching TV truly produces lazy and stupid adults. I want to see numbers. I want to see proof.

Each time I hear of a parent who claims their kids are better of without any TV, I want to remind them that bans are only made to be broken. If you tell a kid she or he can't do something, suddenly that very thing becomes extremely enticing. I know men who only eat sugar cereal now because they never could as children. Think of all the college freshmen. Think of the alcohol. Can you really tell me that banning works?

As in almost everything, maybe moderation is the answer. I'm not saying my twenty-some hours a week would be considered moderation but then again, I never claimed I was exemplary.

I just like to watch TV.

Previously? The Power of Mundane.