So Say We All?

Song of the Day: 'Dream On', Aerosmith

I swear to God, I SWEAR to GOD, I SWEAR TO GOD I'm happy.

I got to spend the day with a couple of my bestest friends, one of whom I had not seen since January. I get to go swimming tomorrow, potentially with these two again. I got a new tattoo a little over two months ago, about which I am still psyched and super in love. I've been working out. I've been spending time lazing in the sun. I'm catching up on awesome shows like Battlestar Galactica and Law and Order: SVU. Mayhaps I'll even get to catch up on Doctor Who and other nerdtastic shows before I go back to school.

I've acquired over fifty books since being home, either by purchase or gifts - my bookcases are now full and beautiful. I have a new phone that works like magic so I'm a lot less pissed off at my technology. I've finished about 15 books this summer and am in the middle of at least four. I'm virtually ready for school to start except for a few financial things, but I'm super ready to get back to New York. I have plans within the next two and a half weeks that include seeing fantastic friends, going to see kickass movies with my family, and general awesometasticness.

I spend my days on my own schedule doing what I want - reading, movieing, chilling with friends, tv-showing, lazing in the sun, virtually whatever I please (though occasionally depending on dolla dolla bills, yo). Hell, today I ate dessert before dinner, flirted with a cute waiter, played in the ocean, collected seashells, and got to do it all with two people I genuinely love and whose company I always enjoy.

Why the fuck can that not be enough?

Dammit, I had a GOOD day. I had a GREAT day. And then there's one minuscule thing - one legitimately unimportant, NOTHING thing and it all goes to shit. Because for whatever freaking reason I'm of the mindset that the bad trumps the good and has the superability to ruin a perfect day.

I'm not sure I believe in karma, honestly. I doubt this is the world's way of telling me 'Okay, Abbie, you're too happy, soooo time to stop, kthxbai'. I'm not that fucking important for the world or universe or karma or destiny or whatever-the-hell to dictate the balance in my life. We create our own balance, and blaming something else is just another way to not take responsibility. Nah, it's just my own stupid brain latching on to the little NOTHING thing that affects me in no way just enough to destroy my Happy and ruin my Metaphorical Smile.

And now I'm just pissed at myself because my goddamn brain managed to turn everything around.

On a vaguely related note, I had a conversation today with my friend concerning significant others and the idea of being 'emotionally independent' or 'emotionally stable'. I have trouble with the concept that people should not be emotionally dependent on other people. I hate to break it to you World, but we're a sociable species. We kinda sorta depend on interpersonal relationships for growth, learning, and, ya know, contact. For personal happiness, and stuff. So why are people so looked down upon for being metaphorically heartbroken when they break up with the Love of Their Life?

I get being healthy enough to not want to End Things if the above does happen, but come on - we can develop relationships with the people who serve us food, even if only in a customer-server relationship. We so easily become synced with the other people in, around, nearby, next to, upstairs, down the hall from our lives that it's just a little silly to demand that we not get latched onto someone that much. Hell, if we can't do it with the Designated Significant Other, who the hell can we do it with?

I feel like I'm trying to justify my own personal discontent when, in all honesty, I feel like I have no right to be so. But are people ever fully content? I mean, I don't wallow in self-loathing cuz I dun has someone who wants to make out with my face. I'm pretty good at just being happy in the moment, especially when there are other people there. But every so often my mind returns to the fact that I'm Single with a capital 'S' (which, yes, is part Me Not Being Proactive, blah blah blah) and there doesn't seem to be a guy brave enough to say, 'I'll do it! I'll make out with your face!'.

I really have a nice face, guys. It's pretty decent to look at, be near, even make fun of when it screws itself up and looks like a gargoyle face à la Calvin and Hobbes.

Does it all start at home? Do I need to be in a more personally secure place? Do I need to looooove myself more? Should I stop whining about my inability to find a guy and go make some sandwiches for starving hobos?

KAY I'M GONNA STOP BEING PATHETIC NOW BAAAIIIIIII.



'Sing with me, sing for the year,
sing for the laughter, sing for the tears
sing with me, just for today,
maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away...' - 'Dream On', Aerosmith