My search for happiness.

The Oxford Dictionary defines ‘Happiness’ :

Happiness is the feeling you have when things give you pleasure and can be quite a lively feeling; contentment is a quieter feeling that you get when you have learned to find pleasure in things.

(Well I googled ‘Oxford Dictionary definition of Happiness’ and it provided the above.)

I will be frank with you now I don’t remember a time where I have ever felt happy.

I am fundamentally a pessimist. It’s just my nature and I need to adjust that.

I’m passive, timid and extremely negative. I’ve been called a buzzkill and I do identify that it needs to change.

I’ve questioned my happiness as long as I left highschool. My ENTER result still wounds me today, the trauma and the feelings of failure. It haunts me. I have regrets and my life is pretty much a cul-de-sac.

I have a job that is slowly becoming a toxic environment. I have no option currently, but to stay there because I haven’t really stayed in a job (that actually has proper references and upskill you ) for more than 4 months and I can’t afford to mess it up because I am chained to boulder called ‘adulthood’ with bills to pay and I need something on my resume indicating that I can be trusted working in a workplace for longer than 6 months.

Then a workmate she keeps bringing love life up and it just unleashed the long dormant non-existent-lovelife-kraken and how much I have suppressed that beast namely called  the ‘forever alone’ kraken and how I have been masking it with ‘I love my independence’ spray (which is partially true) and deep down inside I do crave that intimacy but I’m too chicken shit to open up to another person. Because I’m this sscrawny, 27 year old that’s never really been hit on by a guy (and Gerard Way lookalike doesn’t count because I actively pursued the guy and I think him dating me was him being nice).

I don’t know what I want in life and what will make me happy.

 

 

 

Dear Chester Bennington, Rest In Peace.

The daily ritual kicked off as soon as the alarm went off, I turned on the wifi on my phone and checked the notifications.

One of my friends had a facebook status expressing their devastation of Chester Bennington  reported dead. The first time I saw it, I thought it was a hoax but when it got to three statuses of similar sentiment —It hit me.

It wasn’t a hoax …it was real.  I am sad, very sad about this.  His depression was well known, he had spoken about it t his troubled childhood and his depression in highschool. He as depressed and tt finally got to him, this time he couldn’t fight it this time.

I listened to Linkin Park in the early years of Highschool . My  middle child sister was a massive fan. It rubbed off on me and through the influence of older siblings, you tend to form habits. Linkin Park was the shiz then, because the songs spoke to us.

Chester’s voice, got me through highschool.The way he sung lyrics of the songs moved me, you could hear his pain and that feeling in his vocals got me through the worse times in those years of my life.

He was my first rock celebrity crush, his geekiness and WOW that voice .

The world lost a precious soul with a precious voice.

I’m incredibly saddened by this. This is all I can say… that I’m incredibly sad about this.

I’m all choked up that I can’t even string coherent sentences and spell properly.

 

 

 

Note: July 21.

As I lie here in my bed typing whatever comes to mind, it’s the wee hours of the morning and I have a shift later in normal people hours and I want to sleep but I can’t. “It’s the damn coffees I had”. Funny, that the coffee kicks in after your shift ends and it’s a never ending cycle and I wake up late, speed walking like a mas woman aiming to get to the station within 7 minutes (when for a normal person it takes 10 to 15 minutes) and 85% of the time hop on the train before it’s scheduled departure. The truth as to why I am a fast walker is because I’m constantly always in a rush because I’m naturally a last minute person. My punctuality flew out of the window after highschool.

It’s seven months in and I am still at the job that I don’t even really like but who likes their job? It makes ends meet and I really should not complain. The reason why I am still at the job is because my workmates keep me sane. The nature of the job sucks that it’s blackened my soul, I now lack the words to sound more “empathetic”. Empathy is one of my most hated words.

It’s winter, whilst I like the cold weather because I like to rug up, the negative side to it is my mood is altered and I probably have seasonal affective disorder.

I need to read books but lack the motivation to stare at words and become invested in a story.

My plans for living frugally went out the door, but I need to review my yearly plans. SAVE SAVE SAVE. For my dental and also I do plan a trip to the US of A next year. I initially wanted to go with a friend but seeing that we’re not going eye to eye with some plans, I think I might go it alone or find someone to go with me.

Just ran out of words to include.

Until next time…

Everyone has a story. My one is a mundane one. But I will record. (When I can be bothered. Sorry for the long title)

What my week consisted of;

Whine.

Wine.

Cheese and watercress crackers.

wine.

kabana bites.

decaf coffee.

actual caffeinated coffee.

abuse from people on the other line, calling me every bad word out of urban dictionary.

The alcohol abuse happened after work… every night.

James Comey updates about him trying to blend with the blue White House curtains.

Another week of work begins and I’m looking forward to Tuesday and Wednesday because I HAVE TWO DAYS OFF and I’m going to go to the Van Gogh exhibition on Tuesday! (YAY)

 

 

Life Complaint. May edition.

I will admit while I have a job that I do not particularly enjoy, a job is a job is a job is a job. It’s something that pays the bills and buys the necessities in life.

I often find myself bored. I’m not productive. I can go clean the house, but I do not because I’m not in the mood or I’m simply just lazy. Buying material goods does not make me happy. I’ve found no joy in any new clothing I buy or whatever and I don’t know what I want anymore. Material possessions do not fascinate me. I think often, the more I buy the less space I have, the more junk I accumulate and then there is more rubbish that clutter and pollutes the world.   I often find myself thinking, reflecting, why I am not in the mood to watch netflix, normal television, watch or participate in sport. I feel no passion. I feel bored. I can’t even be bothered reading.

What is wrong with me?

 

 

Thought of the day

Or rather, for the past week.

It won’t be lengthy, but here it is.

The response from the US, or rather, the decision Trump had made. I have these conflicting feelings about the US attack on the Syrian airbase.

I don’t understand why people are praising him for this decision. A necessary evil one might say, but I wouldn’t say praiseworthy.

Because if he is so horrified about the atrocities commited in Khan Sheikhoun why does he not let those who are fleeing the conflict enter US Soil?

As this Blake Hounshell of Politico Magazine described:

It’s a dizzying turnabout for a man who complained endlessly during the presidential campaign about the trillions the United States had wasted on wars in the Middle East—and who urged his predecessor in 2013 not to launch “stupid” airstrikes to punish Bashar Assad for using chemical weapons against his own people.

(Source: http://www.politico.com/magazine/story/2017/04/trumps-syria-whiplash-214997)

And I share the exact same thoughts as Frank Bruni of the New York Times

And so two questions, loud and urgent: Why did he do this now? And, beyond that, who exactly is he?

What is his motives in all of this? How did he change his issues in one day? Will the pain he saw in the photographs change his mind on refugee and immigration issues?

There are so many questions.

The fact that he has been dishonest for the little things is the reason why people are questioning any good moves, because they can’t believe it, they are entirely conflicted that they don’t know how to accept that he did something that was necessary or the “right” thing -for lack of a better word.

I just can’t make up my mind on how to feel about this.

Until next time.