How to Write When Happy?

November 3, 2008

How to Write When Happy?

Turns out, I write the most (and perhaps the best) when I am struggling with the world and my place in it.  That’s why I’ve been gone for a while: I’M SO HAPPY.  On some level, I guess I wish I had more time to be depressed….to think about meaning and suffering and purpose, and then put my thoughts into words.  But, between a job that I love and a city that I’m enjoying exploring, I just can’t seem to find the time.  And now that I’ve forced myself to sit and write (after all, we gained an hour today), I can think of nothing more than to say, Hello World, Thank you for the beautiful day today!

I know, puke, right?  I’m sure it’ll change soon and I’ll be heartbroken, or forlorn, or in some state of malaise, during which I’ll have lots to say…. but for now, I’m gonna enjoy being happy.  Just happy.

I think I’ve also been avoiding the blog because I’ve made a firm decision not to talk about work.  At all.  Ever.  And seeing that I’m spending the majority of my waking hours there, it’s hard to get focused on much else.  But, I’m starting to settle in more, and I think as I embark on LA adventures, I’ll have plenty of writing opportunities.  So, please forgive my absence, and stay tuned for updates on life in LA.

Just to give you a general sense, my day looks something like this:

I wake up around 5:30 and go to the gym.  (This is on a perfect day, of course… a day when I’m choosing to be a disciplined adult and not a child who presses snooze 12 times… Admittedly, I’m more often a child).  The gym is a VERY interesting place.  It’s in hollywood.  People watching at its finest.  I went to a group fitness class one day and could have sworn I walked onto the set of Chorus Line.  People were warming up with high kicks and triple chasses.  The guys all looked like they walked out of calvin klein ads and, of course, the girls next to my spot on the floor were clearly doubles for Beyonce and Heidi Klum.  I almost left once the music started, the disco ball dropped from the ceiling and begin rotating, and the instructor shouted “five, six….five, six, seven, eight.”  But the fly girl in me couldn’t resist, and I was caught up in no time.  (and I worked extra ’cause I’ll be damned if miss shakira-look-alike does more push ups than me!)

Anyhow, I’ve slowed down a bit in the mornings, and am now taking a yoga class.  The instructor is like the Bob Ross of Yoga.  Everything is “beautiful” and “happy.”  It suits me for the time being.

I head back home, where I shower, listen to NPR, put a suit on (yuck), pack my heals in my briefcase, and start walking to the metro in more comfortable shoes.  I love this walk in the morning.  I pass the shopkeepers opening up for the day, the homeless people on my street, the Los Feliz newspaper stand, and lots of other people gearing up for the day, which is still so full of possibilties.  I decend into the metro station and jump on my train heading toward downtown.  I read the paper, or a book, or – most frequently – talk to or stare at people on the train.

I arrive downtown, grab a cup of joe at the coffee stand, and head into a job that I’m crazy about.

I’ve just realized that this is most boring blog in the history of blogs.  So I’m just going to stop and write more later when I actually have something to say.

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