snowy static.

Going to see some performance art tonight with Caroline. I told her I would go because it's free and Wolfgang Puck is catering. Then I'm going to a party that should be amaaazing. For some reason, this week has been absolutely wonderful. I cannot put into words, I am just doing very well.
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Yesterday while I was on the bus, I watched the rain drops streak down the windows and make their slow descent to the pavement. When I was little, I would create identities for each rain drop. When one of the rain drops joined with another, I would imagine they were long lost friends or lovers who had been separated in their fall from the sky. When they were reunited, they would run off to heaven to be together indefinitely.

I realize how simple that is. I realize how complex all of my mental processes have now become. It says so much about how far I have come from my own original definition of happiness. To me, there are two very distinct kinds. There is the kind that I held onto when I was younger, before I had broken hearts and had my heart broken. It is based around the notion that everything will work out the way it is supposed to, that society just is and that your part in it need not be big. You only need to raise a family and continue the cycle, love others, be. Your job, your accomplishments would not define you, but rather how well you were able to perpetuate the cycle.

Yet I have unknowingly accepted a new definition of happiness. It is that happiness is equal to satisfaction. Americans remove satisfaction from happiness entirely. Satisfaction has to do with how well you have met the goals you have made for yourself: in relationships, in your work, in your life experiences. By this definition, my happiness depends on where I travel, the people I meet, the volunteering I do, the activism I take part in, my notoriety as an intellectual or editor or both, my awareness of contemporary poetry and prose, how well I love, the city where I finally throw all my shit down, the words I write.

I think, though, that the latter definition is far too restrictive. I do not think I can ever be satisfied if I am always chasing after some elusive adventure, some concept of the real (as if one version of reality could ever be more true than another). The problem with this definition is that it relies on self-determination. That means that not only is your own happiness in your own control, but that you are responsible for any sadness that you ever feel. The problem with the former is that you have almost no control at all, your life course is determined by what others choose is best for you.

I have no answer as to which is better for everyone. But I know that sometimes I put a little too much pressure on myself to determine my own happiness, and it's tiring, and it can be scary. So I have decided to take a few steps back and let myself believe in something new.