If you're happy and you know it....

" I believe there are monsters born in the world to human parents. Some you can see, misshapen and horrible, with huge heads or tiny bodies. They are accidents and no one's fault... And just as there are physical monsters, can there not be mental or psychic monsters born? The face and body may be perfect, but if a twisted gene or a malformed egg can produce physical monsters, may not the same process produce a malformed soul?"
-John Steinbeck, East of Eden



It's hard to find something that makes you Happy. It's hard to remember Happy once it's gone. And we all know that Happy, although always welcome, often comes uninvited and leaves unexpectedly.

She said: "I don't remember what it's like to be happy. Maybe I've never been happy."

It really bothered me. It bothered me more when she asked me the last time I was happy and I didn't have an answer already sitting on my tongue just waiting to be brought into the world of audibility. When was the last time I was happy? Have I ever been truly happy? What is happiness?
According to Shakespeare, and reiterated by Shania Twain, happiness is wanting what you have and not having what you want. So does that mean happiness is lacking the desire to change? To become better? To be void of dreams and aspirations? That in itself seems an impossible feat for man, whose cornerstone is the ability to create and build and improve. Thus, if we are basing happiness off of the testament of good ol' Willy, happiness, if it is possible, can never occur simultaneously with success. And true happiness can only be reached by the listless and the vapid extremities of our species.....
No. This is ridiculous. I just don't agree. Perhaps this is the romantic in me but I don't view happiness as that.
Happiness is laughter. Friendship. Fun. Whatever. Happiness is not complicated. It is a feeling of ease and contentedness and being entirely comfortable with who you are and what you have. It is not this unreachable thing that is taped to the ceiling, dangling on a string that is just out of our reach, mocking us as it swings left and right. No. That is the wrong outlook on happiness. Happiness is waiting to be picked up like....I don't know, an eager puppy. Sometimes it is just sitting there amidst it all, floating all around and surrounding the atmosphere with warmth and multiplying exponentially, readily available to all. Sometimes it is hidden like buried treasure and takes considerable strength and patience to procure. But it's there. It is waiting. You just have to take the time to find it. If you are not happy, you are not letting yourself be happy. And it is time you crawl out of yourself and see the world and breathe in the fresh air and all its glory of new beginnings and potential laughter. Happiness is not complicated. It is the simplest idea out there.
And in truth that's all happiness is nothing but a state of mind. It is a state in the present as we face our challenges and revel in our triumphs and accept our defeats. Happiness is confidence and assuredness and composure and love.

Okay. So I'm happy and apparently it's reachable. Then what am I working towards now? If I'm already happy, what else do I want? So maybe I'm not happy, or I would already be dead or basically dead, which brings back that earlier picture of someone who is "happy" and doesn't do anything because of it...........which again makes me think that productivity and happiness do not go hand in hand.
If happiness means being content with what you have, than happiness is not stunted by settling, in fact happiness would be synonymous to settling and being completely...happy with settling.

Ugh. This is torturous. What is happiness? Was my sister right? Have none of us ever been happy?
Is it ironic that the idea of happiness is plaguing me?

Death.

You can cover the floors with plastic wood paneling, you can paint the walls bright colors, you can hang up photographs and paintings of sunrises and plants, but hospitals still smell like death.

I am incredibly depressing. I almost put this as my facebook status, but thought against it. Just a little too dark for the facebook community.

I haven't slept at all this week.
My grandpa has been in the hospital due to kidney failure since Wednesday.
He is getting an artificial kidney. An artificial, extrinsic kidney.
Cold. Hard. Plastic.
Attached to the outside of his body, to keep him alive.
He will have this for the rest of his life.
He has to change it every three weeks.
Cold. Hard. Plastic.
I haven't slept at all this week but I'm not sure the two events are related. Something about this week has been unnaturally awful. Failed interviews, threatened detentions, unpredictable futures, unpredictable lives. It's enough to lose sleep over.

Today I visited the hospital. And the only thing I could think of was my aunt. I really hate hospitals. Who doesn't? Everything is shoved inside this giant institution, covered by this veneer of cheerfulness. It feels like I'm walking into an airport until I get a whiff of the air. Until I listen to the noises and the announcements. Beeping moniters, whirring breathing machines, the Sunday news in the background, painfully light small talk with your family, painfully sensitive small talk with your family. Nobody wants to talk about your condition. Nobody wants to mention the word "death". Everybody is always tired. I hate hospitals.

I hate seeing people so useless. So incapable. Tangled up in plastic, the wires and the machines are no longer an extension of the patient, but the patient is an extension of them. Parasitic in nature, feeding on it to cling onto dear life. Dear life.

And what am I supposed to say? What could I possibly say?
Hey Grandpa, try your best not to die. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll see you tonight. I got into college. Hey Grandpa, feel better. Get well soon. Smile. I love you?
Are you hot? Are you cold? Did you eat? How's the food? Did you sleep? How did you sleep? Should I turn on the television? Should I open a window?
Do you need anything?
What could you possibly need that I could possibly provide for you?

I've only been to one funeral in my entire life and it wasn't even for someone I knew. It wasn't even for my aunt. It was for some random acquaintance of my mom's. It was held in a small funeral home with sterile white stucco walls and wine red almost shag carpet. There were lots of doors and rooms. People were either making too much noise or not enough. It was eerie.
I spent a lot of time in the bathroom.
I cried for this woman I never knew, never heard of, never seen.

How are we supposed to deal with death? People don't die. I'm a teenager. I'm invincible. Didn't you know that? Isn't that common knowledge? Nothing can touch me or the people around me. People don't die.

I'm not sad right now. My grandpa is better. His "condition" is stabilizing. I'm not sad. I'm indifferent. I'm uncomfortable. I'm not feeling much of anything.

I am as empty as a grave full of dust.

When I die--if I die--I want to be ready. If not willing, then at ease. Am I asking too much?

Inspirations.

"What has been given to me is not something to be repaid but to be fulfilled."
-PaulDavid Shrader, Probity

Short and Sporadic Ponderings of Yours Truly.

"Never leave home in socks with holes because you never know when you're going to try on a pair of shoes."

-BIJOU Living

Elegance, etiquette, composure, confidence, and humility. This seems to be the formula for adulthood. One step at a time. One pair of shoes at a time.

Who knew the library has so many...books? What a wonderful, wonderful world. I intend to one day read a book on etiquette borrowed from this previously mentioned place of wonder. It will be some kind of a rude awakening, I'm sure. Isn't that ironic.

"Fashion is about eventually being naked.''

-Vivienne Westwood

Well put, Vivienne Westwood. I might just name my daughter after you. Let us see how she turns out.

I don't think I will ever really know myself because I am too preoccupied with changing myself, expanding my mind, and learning new things, new places, new people. Oh, I almost didn't see you there, College. Don't jump out at me like that. I imagine books of etiquette frown upon it.

Deep Fried Scallops.

I've literally wanted to blog every single day this past week but I didn't have access to my computer. Now. I really don't have anything to say but instead I'm typing out of common courtesy for past yearnings. I wanted to write so badly that I started typing on my phone and saved a draft...and my phone is no magical, miraculous, super-computer utility so this was some kind of commitment. I'm not really feeling it anymore though. I don't remember where I was going with it....

5:47 pm. I am facing the clock in a seat closest to the door. The dim light on the wall flickers rhythmically from the pulsing ceiling fan (not a burned out battery). I am staring straight at the wall, at no spot in particular, without moving my gaze, like I was staring at a spot in particular. I pop my gum.

5:49 pm. People filter in and out, making the bells strapped on the door jingle. I keep leaving the spot on the wall to glance at the door like I'm waiting for someone. It doesn't really smell like a bakery. It doesn't really look like a bakery. It isn't just a bakery. It is also a restaurant. A woman comes in, and sits at a round table set for six. She orders soup in Cantonese and it is brought out in less than two minutes. She sits and drinks, pushing her graying perm out of the way every time she took a spoonful, and talking aloud for everyone to hear.

And then my mom came back. And I stopped writing and it's not climactic to say the least. I'm sorry if you read it and you were expecting something. I really do think I was going somewhere with it but I'm really not sure anymore. Anyway. It was downtown Chicago, in Chinatown. This is a perfect segway for what I really wanted to talk about: food.

If there are two things I strongly believe it's that:

1. If you do or say anything with enough conviction, it is the truth--think organized religion, or Antoinette.
2. Food is the pinnacle of mankind.

This past week gave me hope for mankind. It started with homemade crepes and too much whip cream, and it escalated into something beautiful.
Day one in Chicago began in Chinatown. Authentic Sichuan Cuisine. Sichuan is a province in Southwestern China, close to the mountains. It also happens to be my dad's hometown. They are very proud of their food, known as one of the Four Great Traditions of Chinise cuisine. Think spicy, hot, fresh and fragrant. Delicious. We had some really traditional appetizers including crispy duck (pictured right), rabbit, fish, pig lung, and even chicken. They have some good vegetarian dishes too, haha. For dessert, frozen yogurt with mochi and pineapple.
The next day I had my first Chicago style hot dog--mustard, onion, sweet pickle relish, a dill pickle spear, tomatoes, pickled sport peppers, and celery salt. And then my mom craved some culture and we went back to Chinatown and ate at a restuarant that served authentic Chinese from her hometown, Guangzhou (Canton). There's some saying that the Cantonese "eat everything with legs except a table, and everything with wings except an airplane." It is much lighter and subtle in comparison to Sichuanese food but it is still good. We had a typical kind of rice porridge served with eel and honey glazed fish. For dessert we had vanilla ice cream with red bean paste.
We ended the trip with Italian gelato, some used books and some phenomenal Thai food. Specifically, the best Pad Thai I've ever had, spicy catfish and basil chicken. And one last frozen yogurt experience.

And then I came home. And then. I went to Connecticut. It's your typical love story. Girl meets burger. And then she eats it. Typical. Except, it wasn't your typical burger. It was a hamburger from Louis Lunch, where they claim to have served the very first all-American burger, between two slices of toast, not fried but broiled, always without ketchup or mustard. Washed down with a dry soda. Amazing.

The next day I went down to the beach and had deep fried scallops at this tiny little restaurant right next to the ocean. They were the best scallops I've ever tasted. Not stringy or tough. Cut like butter tasted like meat. Tell me this wasn't a good week. Well, you have no idea what you're talking about.

I decided next year, I'm going to take a road-trip solely to find some good food. Come with me.

Lime Flavored Jello.

I haven't posted in awhile but there's no inspiration to write like the inspiration that comes from staying home on a Friday night when there are so many other fun things going on. I don't think I've ever been invited had more plans that I couldn't do.
Oh well. Sounds like another dance party alone. Yeah, yeah? Uh, yeah!
Ps. I'm thinking some kind of really unofficial gathering at my house on a Tuesday night a week from now kind of for my birthday but not really dance party night picnic campfire board games(Stratego perhaps? Sam Wyatt start reading my blog.) sort of deal. The kind where I invite too many people and only the cool ones show up/the ones who don't have anything to do and thought this might be Pleasant. You guys would fall into one of those categories right? Be there.
I'm thinking about cake but then it might seem like a birthday party, but who knows. Everything is up in the air or suspended in jello. Lime flavored, as always.
Maybe I'll have jello there. Find out for yourself. Make an appearance. Don't bring me presents, bring food.
Oh wait I almost forgot. We're seniors!

A work in progress.

"Only as high as I reach can I grow, only as far as I seek can I go, only as deep as I look can I see, only as much as I dream can I be. "

-Winston Churchill

It's not quite finished (or edited properly), but it'll do. Reflection on this year:

I met a lot of really great people this year, people who I admire and am comfortable around, people who are genuinely funny, people who I always have fun with, and people who I can talk to about anything. Consequently, I became more comfortable with myself and I took another step in the direction of not caring about what other people think. Let's call it...maturity, for kicks. Lots of things have happened this year and if nothing else, it is at least interesting. But it is something else, it's a lot else.

There is a defining line between the people who will always be there for me and the people who laugh at my jokes. I am so grateful. I am extremely lucky. I am surrounded by wonderful people. And I love you all.

I learned that sometimes trying to protect yourself and keeping a safe distance can sometimes mean lying. The best way to combat this, is to just try and feel. For example. The truth is I'm not a die-hard cynic and neither are you. I'm a romantic trying to hide. But I'm starting not to mind so much. Because after all, what is wrong with believing in love? In others? In humanity? My biggest regrets are always the same. Not being brave enough, lying, not saying anything, not trying to say anything.

Things I would love to change about myself/improve upon:

1. Gain composure.
2. Do not be afraid of rejection.
3. Do not stop trying.
4. No more empty promises
5. Work on my relationship with my parents

My Reachable goals for this coming year/summer:

1. Get into college. Ha.
2. Fight senioritis.
3. Don't procrastinate on college/scholarship essays.
4. Make relationships with your teachers. Not just for the recommendation letter
5. Maintain/better organize Picnic Club
6. Do something worthwhile with my summer
7. Meet some underclassmen
8. Get my license
9. Get a better job
10. This is obviously in no particular order

2010-2011. It is our year. Let's make the most of it.

What does success mean to me?

Happiness.