A man walked by when I was waiting at the bus station. I had my headphones in; he mouthed “Be happy,” and smiled at me.
This prompted two thoughts (well, only one at the time, but we’ll emphasize the later):
1) I hate it when people tell me to smile or ask why I don’t smile more or something along those lines. Whoever is promoting the idea that smiling takes fewer muscles than frowning has clearly never looked in the mirror when his/her face is relaxed. Granted, I was in an irksome mood the day I was admonished to be happy, but all the same… I am not one to put on a happy face if I’m in a pissed off mood. (At least as far as the circumstances allow. If you call in at work, no matter how far into hell the handbasket has gone, I will tell you it’s a great day.)
2) I would like to be someone who is naturally happy/smiley. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my inherently disposition. (believe me, it’s been a life-long thing, you just have to flip through a few pages of the photo album from my early years. Rather than deny the moodiness, I can only admit it and shrug it off.) All the same, it’s more cheerful to choose to be cheerful about life.
As a caveat, my goal per se isn’t “happy.” It’s contentment.
At any rate, semantics is not the point. The point is to take life for what is and find something to enjoy in it. Sometimes you enjoy all of it. Sometimes it’s the little things like a little girl at the bakery who is entranced by your pink nail polish. But there are always little things.
Not to say that I’m not going to keep looking for some sort of purposeful employment that will bring enjoyment beyond the paycheck, but come on. I’ve only got one chance at life, there’s no point in begrudging it the dull moments if I can have some stellar ones here and there.