"So I pack my things, nothing precious, all things sacred" Alanis' new song Citizen of the Planet
2008-06-15, 12:53 a.m.

I truly believe with all my heart that if we work for the things in life that mean something to us, regardless of how hard it is to reach, or how vague the outcome of it might seem, we will end up where we are most happy. It's a form of natural selection. We find what it is that makes us most happy, satisfied (which in itself means healthy as well, for who can live content in a body not living by its full capacity, whatever that may be.)
Just like we learn to cling to life (The Life of Pi was a great survival story btw, finished that this morning) we cling to the things that make us happy. Examples of the fights for freedom (Am three quarters of the way through "A Handmaids Tale") are plentiful, but the fight for happiness is more subtle, and so we don't feel it.
Let me define happy though. Being happy does not mean elated. If we were in a constant state of ecstasy we would be emotionally exhausted. By happy I mean content. Not self indulging but rather self confident, not whimsical, but rather flexible. Practical and at the same time adventurous. It is by finding these balances in ourselves, and in our lives that we can achieve happiness.
And it is this happiness I think that we all long for. If a person has the ability to realize this definition of happiness in its fullest sense, and notice the fight for it is quiet and subdued, inherent in the small details of the things we do, they are destined to find it.
And not right away. If you were to have it your whole life, how could you know the difference between what happy and discontent is?
It is much like that horrible show "Sweet Sixteen" where one of the spectacles on the show is a young girl crying because she only received one car as opposed to two. To her this is genuine malcontent, albeit a shallow one. Because she has everything, and does not know what it means to have nothing, she contrasts what she wants but doesn't have (the two cars) with what she currently has (the one car) and finds herself dissatisfied, without knowing it has nothing to do with cars at all, but rather a completely meaningless and INDULGENT life.

It is a bit difficult to speak of indulgence, because I find the unhappiness I suffer right now is my own, warped form of indulgence. I'm still where I am. I have the completely open choice of leaving, of removing myself from this constant ridiculous conduct towards me, but instead I remain. I like to tell myself it is for selfless reasons. But to play the martyr is as selfish as it is selfless.

I went to the library the other day to get a copy of sense and sensibility. There was not a SINGLE copy of ANY Jane Austen to be found. ANYWHERE in the library.
Truly only a great author can have multiple copies of a book at a library, books published over 100 years ago, and have them all be checked out.
The last time I checked, there are still copies of every single Harry Potter book still on the shelf.

I love Harry Potter, don't get me wrong, the stories-being but a manipulation of psychology, and mixing of others works- is amazing, but the writing leaves much to be desired. And the ending of book 7 sucked.

Much love.

So I pack my things
Nothing precious
All things sacred