Cultures world-wide have stories of worlds spoken into existence. By words. They have power, these little bits of ink and letters. Spoken, written, conjured, words create worlds, communicate our hearts and spread knowledge. I write. I play with words. They are my art. My painting. Let's explore the world of words together, shall we? Let's play.
There’s this book out that’s really quite interesting. It’s all about how we don’t really know what makes us happy. We can’t even use past experience to predict what will make us happy, apparently. According to the studies and all that.
So I’m wondering, as we all gather together for Thanksgiving here in the US, what are we happy for? And do we really get any happiness out of this holiday?
I mean really, most people spend obligatory time with family they’d rather not be around, stuffing their faces with food it took the woman all day to cook, (not me, other women, if you let me in the kitchen I’ll likely burn it down…besides I KNOW cooking DOES NOT bring me happiness, so there’s that) just so everyone can bitch about everyone else when it’s all over.
Can you believe she had the nerve to bring HIM to the dinner?
Wow, she thought that pumpkin pie was the best? Oh dear, that’s bad.
When is he going to tell them he’s gay already? How can they not know?
And so it goes.
OK, maybe your family doesn’t sound like that. And hey, I’m not saying mine does. Nooo, we’re like something out of the Brady Bunch. We sing and dance and solve problems using team work and non-violent communication. Right…
So will I be happy this week as I gather with family?
I don’t know.
I’ll get to see my brother and sister. I’ll get to meet a brother I’ve never met before. (Long story, for another post perhaps.) I’ll get to play with my nephew.
And I’ll have to spend time with people I don’t know. I’ll have to endure a long drive with 4 kids and my parents. I’ll have to say no to anything with wheat, yeast or eggs in it because of stupid food allergies. (Take a moment to contemplate that and you’ll see the real tragedy there.) And I won’t be with the man I love.
I'm allergic to MOST of this
As much as I love biscuits and pumpkin pie, it’s the last one I’m most heartbroken about. I’ll miss Dmytry. Even though he’s a million miles away, I’ll miss having computer and easy phone access to him.
And I swear, this better be the LAST holiday I ever have to spend without him.
So screw the research in that book. I know what makes me happy. He does. Living with and loving him and my kids. That makes me happy. Oh, and writing. I dig that too. (And in case you’re a random agent or publisher or magazine editor, I write a lot and would love to buy you coffee. Call me…)
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone. Hope you find that elusive happiness we all talk about and dream about.