pursuit of happiness

the trouble with being new and relatively alone in the city is that you are often left to your own devices. now some would view this as the opportunity of a lifetime. a chance to look inward and get in touch with themselves without anyone or anything to hamper their personal growth. a chance to ask themselves what do you really want to do? and actually do it. to seek out what makes them happy, to pursue bliss. join a club. go to concerts. read books. hike. what do i want to do today? would be a question that brings a smile to their faces, a swagger to their step. they leap out of bed singing their song of What Do I Want To Do TODAY?! filled with possibilities and mad fiddlers. a few pirouettes and (hopefully) a shower later they'd be out the door and skipping down the street all too eager to great The Best Day Yet.

i, however, am not one of those people.

my morning song is not one of joy so much. if it is at all jaunty, it is only because the casio keyboard in my head is stuck on samba. my song mostly just urges me to go to bathroom. it does not ring forth the possibilities of the day, it does make me wish i could unplug that damn mind-casio. stop the samba. please. stop it. i can't figure out what makes me happy, what my bliss is, with that damn synthesized crap going around and around and around in my skull. it is mind numbing. it it any wonder i have no idea what to do with my day?

so i stumble out of the house (7 hours later) fueled by the guilt of missing out on one of those gorgeous days where the houses sparkle on the hillsides and the breeze rustles through the trees and the sun is warm on your face, still not sure of what will make me happy, what will bring me bliss. i don't know. i don't know. i don't even know where to start looking. and then my wandering takes me by a coffee shop, and suddenly i remember what my bliss is and will always be. good thing i live in a city where espresso flows like water.