I suppose it feels like I should ease myself back into heavy blogs. Trust me, I have a lot to say-- a lot to sort through. But even though it has been months, most things are still underdeveloped. So, instead, I’ve decided to ramble of things much less ambiguous.Last week I signed a new lease for an apartment I had been eyeing. The studio is small anyway, but even smaller because of its slanted ceilings. The attic look has always struck some kind of good chord with me. I used to think it was a cozy factor, but I’m wondering if it’s the challenge to fit furniture that intrigues me. I can’t describe this place with having crisp books on the shelves and fresh paint brightening it up, because, well, it isn’t mine yet. So far, it smells of cold coffee and is full of all the tattoo art and music equipment you could fit in the few square feet. (compliments of the current tenant).
But come August, I imagine I will try making it my own. I have said all of this to arrive at what I am really trying to say, and that is how interesting it is to me what makes people “happy” (comfortable, content, satisfied, excited). This isn’t intended to be some kind of “awe-evoking moral lesson” blog. But rather, just a ramble of my recent wonder. It is fascinating to watch everybody react differently to their drug of choice.
For me, it’s change. Always has been.
I get that sort of “high” from moving across the country or taking new classes, or picking a new wardrobe style or cutting my hair, or transforming a man-cave into something livable or seeing God in a new way…or planning in my mind for four months how to decorate my new studio apartment. But the thought of an engineering degree bores me and a new, pink, bedazzled phone case wouldn’t turn my head for even a second, and no boy at a bar is going to give me butterflies. Just as the person sitting next to me couldn’t care less that I get to move out on my own again soon.
What is, perhaps, the most interesting aspect of this idea, is that these things—these silly little things—make up (at least for me) what defines happiness. I mean, sure, there is the initial foundation of real happiness that comes from Something Else, making any of this possible in the first place, but it is sometimes channeled through tangible measures. Which is kind of cool if you ask me. Because while I am working to earn a career and I worry about money sometimes and I have lists of goals to reach for my life as an adult, it is so nice to know that a cup of tea might just be the thing that matters the most for a minute. Or a walk across town at night, or returning a dollar to someone who has dropped it, or a vase of flowers you find sitting on a red table at a coffee shop.
