Happiness Good Mental Condition
First off, I don't like the word "happiness." See my comments here. (Short version: "I feel like it's my right as a thinking human being to have dark moods, to be irritable, to be outraged, and that none of that should carry a negative connotation.")
But for right now, I'll define the H-word as "good mental condition," i.e., no semi-violent outbursts about noise, imagined noise, and/or where said possibly imaginary noise might be coming from (did somebody move in upstairs? do the neighbors have their meatheaded friends over for late night TV again?) And no prolonged, despairing fits of ennui on the couch with a bottle of Manischewitz either.
So it occurred to me the other day that my happiness is directly proportional to the amount of bread I make. A very simple thing, isn't it?
Something else has also been rattling around in the old brainbox for a while now, and I'm really embarrassed to admit it's a line from possibly the worst TV show ever. It went something like, "he is a fool who doesn't return to the place of his greatest happiness." (The plot centered lamely around this twentysomething who moved to New! York! City! and wrote a Best! Selling! Book! dumping on his old hometown. Which, predictably, was --gosh-- the place of his last happiness.)
So by this logic, I have to conclude that maybe I ought to return to the place where I made the most bread.
Which, I guess, was Lake Avenue.
Talking about the Olduvai Gorge, where she and her husband not only excavated some of the most significant anthropological finds in history but also fell in love, Mary Leakey said, "this place has come to mean more to me than any other in the world."
I've got to go to work now.
But for right now, I'll define the H-word as "good mental condition," i.e., no semi-violent outbursts about noise, imagined noise, and/or where said possibly imaginary noise might be coming from (did somebody move in upstairs? do the neighbors have their meatheaded friends over for late night TV again?) And no prolonged, despairing fits of ennui on the couch with a bottle of Manischewitz either.
So it occurred to me the other day that my happiness is directly proportional to the amount of bread I make. A very simple thing, isn't it?
Something else has also been rattling around in the old brainbox for a while now, and I'm really embarrassed to admit it's a line from possibly the worst TV show ever. It went something like, "he is a fool who doesn't return to the place of his greatest happiness." (The plot centered lamely around this twentysomething who moved to New! York! City! and wrote a Best! Selling! Book! dumping on his old hometown. Which, predictably, was --gosh-- the place of his last happiness.)
So by this logic, I have to conclude that maybe I ought to return to the place where I made the most bread.
Which, I guess, was Lake Avenue.
Talking about the Olduvai Gorge, where she and her husband not only excavated some of the most significant anthropological finds in history but also fell in love, Mary Leakey said, "this place has come to mean more to me than any other in the world."
I've got to go to work now.
posted by Christine Borne at 8:01 AM
5 Comments:
I always avoid the word "happy" because I'm paranoid that will curse me and something bad will then have to happen. Maybe I've seen too many cheeseball movies. Instead, I prefer the word "content." This gives me the room to think things could be better but that for the most part, things are OK.
I live on Lake Avenue in Lakewood. I like it here. When I graduated from college, I had just arrived back home after living in New York for three months. I was looking for a job anywhere but inside I felt I'd be happy enough in an apartment in Lakewood. I left anyway. I came back to try out my hunch. People complain about the stuff here, but my apartment, hanging out in Tremont -- that's all I ever really wanted, anyway.
By the way, the book I'm reading is "City Life" by Wilton Rybczynski.
that was all i ever really wanted, too. and yet, somehow, i'm here....
thanks for the book suggestion - i'll see if the queens library has it.
Should I be paranoid about the number of people in this post that have lived or currently live on Lake Ave? Is the source of all happiness in life Lake Ave in Cleveland/Lakewood. I hate the on street parking situation but other than that, this is the best neighborhood I've ever lived in.
oh gosh! if i moved back now - i'd have something else i've never had! friends in my neighborhood!
I guess we all just have good taste in neighborhoods! :)
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