Eating Alone

I was aimlessly strolling through a Barnes and Noble casually sipping on a 100% fattening, no skim desired expensive coffee confection when one of those old crooners came over the speakers singing about "Flying me to the moon..." when I realized I've been depressed.  It was a strange moment of clarity that hit me right in front of the gossip magazines.  For no reason at all, I suddenly felt at ease and even happy--for the first time (I realized) in a long time.  I hadn't even known I was really stressed or not feeling like myself until I was suddenly alone with no where to be and no one to please but me.  I was finding the smell of the new books to be saturated with possibilities--a bunch of little exciting new adventures.  It was cold outside, but I was warm and safe.  I had my sugary coffee drink and my stomach wasn't poking over my pants in guilt.  In my ear, Frank was singing about romance in that carefree quality of the good ol' days that made me want to join a kickline and bust down an aisle.

Since that night, I've been trying to hear Sinatra in my head whenever I start to feel myself slip.  Maybe this is teenage angst that everyone experiences, but back in high school, I remember THINKING a lot more.  I was very into figuring myself and other people out.  I had this desire and drive to actively pursue the goal of making myself a better person every single day.  I realized, for whatever reason, in that Barnes and Noble, that I don't do much of that anymore.  That maybe "high school me" would have been much more hardcore and involved in some of the aspects of my life that I just don't like or where I haven't had the drive to throw that kind of energy and optimism.  

For somebody who complains a lot, I have very little to complain about.  But the thing at the root of it is a fear--what if I'm not happy? 

I nabbed a John Lennon quote from someone's facebook wall sometime ago.  It really speaks to where I am now and my perspective on where I want to be throughout my life...so I scribbled it on a sticky note and I keep it clinging to my computer at work.

"When I was five years old, my mother told me happiness was the key to life.  When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  I wrote down 'happy'.  They told me I didn't understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life."

As long as I'm happy...that's all I need.  I understand that the equation to happiness may include a good man in my life, a satisfying and financially sound career, and a clawed bathtub.  But maybe not.  These are things that I have thought that I wanted, but they don't necessarily equal happiness.

I just hope that I eventually figure out how to be happy.  I am, typically, a happy person--or at least, I have been.  And I was lucky--I never really had to work at it.  But when I heard the music the other day, I realized something had changed and I was more often exhausted, unsatisfied, and waiting to see if happy will come back.  I guess it will eventually be time to take action towards "happy".  Maybe that will mean quiting a job or a relationship.  Sometimes I think--what I need to is set out alone.  I only get once chance at life (that's my belief, at least) and I would like for it to have some adventure.  I would like to see some things.  I would like to try something new.  But would that ultimately make me happy?  And would fear keep me from trying?  I hate it that you think...after working and waiting...that you may have finally found something that will make you happy.  And then, as the days pass--you find that you are wishing the days away.  My mom said to me that I shouldn't wish days away--and I know there are a million magnets and coffee mugs that suggest living each day to the fullest.

Something needs to change.  But for now, I'm humming Sinatra.