It's pretty bad when you have to justify to a complete stranger that you are indeed a happy person.
I had struck up a conversation with yet another mid-20's girl who was flirting with me (albeit in a bit of a ye-olde-fashioned way) because I'm trying to be a little more outgoing, networkable and connected. She seemed to be a contact that would ultimately be good to have in my files, so I played along with our friendly chatter.
We then got to talking about the job market (the bane of my existence) and corporate citizenship, where she took the opportunity to gush about her Fortune 500 company's recent win of some type of good deeds award, given by some council I'd never heard of.
Since I always find it difficult to believe that big business actually does do good deeds every now and again, I joking asked her how much the company had paid for their title. My little off the cuff comment didn't go over so well and I found myself being lectured about what a great company her employer is and all the things they do for the benefit of all.
I don't like being mean, and it felt like she was a little hurt by my blunt disregard for her employer. The conversation quickly wrapped up and in the end I apologized for my comment, hoping to smooth over any ruffled feathers.
Her parting words of advice were that I should, "Try and be happier," so that things will be more inclined to go my way.
"Oh, don't worry," I said with an attempted grin. "I'm a happy person."
She looked at me, gave me a shrug and a smile, and walked away.
I felt like I should chase after her and explain in 25 points why I am indeed a happy person. Because, damn it, I am!
Ok, so maybe I'm not ecstatic about life lately, but I wouldn't classify myself as someone who comes across as unhappy. I'm still polite and friendly. I'm also incredibly lost, but I like to think that I keep that to myself, on the inside.
So it struck me as pretty odd that I felt such a compulsion to prove to this woman, a total stranger whom I may never meet again, that I'm happy. But there it was.
Of course, now I'm paranoid that everyone I meet thinks I'm emitting this wave of negativity. And for all I know, I might be. But I don't see it that way.
Because no matter what, on the surface, I'm a fucking happy person.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Quarter-century-rag...
Yep, I'm 25 now.
Maybe it's because I'm overly modest, but I don't get why '25' is such a big deal. Friends and family have all been acting like the fact I've made it to 25 in one piece is worth a gold watch. Perhaps if I was in a better frame of mind I would have enjoyed it a little more.
My negativity surrounding the subject is something I really need to let go of. Where others have seen it as a chance to celebrate, I wind up asking myself, "Celebrate what?"
Bah, I'm trying not to turn this into a negative post, but every time I write a sentence it turns out that way. It's as if my 'biological clock' is ticking away very, very loudly, and I'm the only one hearing it. I know that 25 still makes me practically a baby, but when you're living it, it feels like you are lightyears behind where you ought to be.
In truth, I didn't even really feel like 'celebrating' my birthday, because I don't really feel there is much to acknowledge. I guess that's me being my earthy-Virgo self who doesn't like making much of a fuss in my own name.
The day in question came and went rather quietly. I did receive some lovely notes from people, including some fellow bloggers/readers, which truly did make me smile. It really is the little things that make me happy. I even got a baked-from-scratched cake from my mom (even though it was four years in the making...I finally got it! Yay!)
I will, however, acknowledge one major improvement. My birthday last year was pretty much a disaster. For being 'my day', it turned into anything but what I wanted. At the time I was pretty much nearing rock bottom on the sine wave of life and was pretty miserable.
I don't think I'll ever forget crying myself to sleep, alone, the night of my birthday. Not something that I do...well, ever really.
So there. In retrospect, looking at how awful I felt one year ago and enjoying the fact that I'm not feeling that way any more is pretty fucking awesome. Granted, I'm not on the top of the world. But I'm not scraping the depths of sadness I was one year ago.
And that makes 25 a pretty good birthday after all.
Maybe it's because I'm overly modest, but I don't get why '25' is such a big deal. Friends and family have all been acting like the fact I've made it to 25 in one piece is worth a gold watch. Perhaps if I was in a better frame of mind I would have enjoyed it a little more.
My negativity surrounding the subject is something I really need to let go of. Where others have seen it as a chance to celebrate, I wind up asking myself, "Celebrate what?"
Bah, I'm trying not to turn this into a negative post, but every time I write a sentence it turns out that way. It's as if my 'biological clock' is ticking away very, very loudly, and I'm the only one hearing it. I know that 25 still makes me practically a baby, but when you're living it, it feels like you are lightyears behind where you ought to be.
In truth, I didn't even really feel like 'celebrating' my birthday, because I don't really feel there is much to acknowledge. I guess that's me being my earthy-Virgo self who doesn't like making much of a fuss in my own name.
The day in question came and went rather quietly. I did receive some lovely notes from people, including some fellow bloggers/readers, which truly did make me smile. It really is the little things that make me happy. I even got a baked-from-scratched cake from my mom (even though it was four years in the making...I finally got it! Yay!)
I will, however, acknowledge one major improvement. My birthday last year was pretty much a disaster. For being 'my day', it turned into anything but what I wanted. At the time I was pretty much nearing rock bottom on the sine wave of life and was pretty miserable.
I don't think I'll ever forget crying myself to sleep, alone, the night of my birthday. Not something that I do...well, ever really.
So there. In retrospect, looking at how awful I felt one year ago and enjoying the fact that I'm not feeling that way any more is pretty fucking awesome. Granted, I'm not on the top of the world. But I'm not scraping the depths of sadness I was one year ago.
And that makes 25 a pretty good birthday after all.
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