Why are we all obsessed with reaching some unattainable level of happiness? The question immediately struck me today as I started reading The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, because, as usual, I love to jump on the book bandwagon after the train has already pulled far out of the station.
Seriously, this is really THE First World Problem to end all first world problems.
It seems like everywhere I look people are trying to find ways to be happier- especially this time of year with every far flung New Year's resolution. Taking classes. Trying new hobbies. Changing diet. Changing career. Organizing closets. Finding God. Going on the Bachelor. Buying new homes.
Wah, I'm not happy enough. How do I get happier? I have a stable relationship, home, career, and my health. I think I need to toss out my extra blender and make more room in my life for kitchen gadgetry. *big sigh* Feeling happier already.
I'm just being a huge hypocrite because I'm always whining about how your 20s suck. I really do *get* the concept of the book. I actually kind of like it so far, and I'm liking it a lot more then I thought I would. I was afraid it would be too much like the whine-ography of Eat, Pray, Love that had my eyes rolling far into the deepest depths of the back of my head.
But, really, whoever said the point of life is happiness? Not to be a total downer but, for the most part, life is a mundane deluge of trivial activities broken up by some fun, festivities, surprises, and sadness. We can't be happy all the time. People who are happy all the time freak me the eff out, quite frankly.
Everyone deserves to reach certain pinnacles of happiness: love, career, home, family. But, after that, what more do we need? We're all guilty of some sick strive for perfection and happiness, but can't we let it go and be content on our coach Sunday mornings with a bagel?