Notes from the Underground (LynnK)

Yes, that’s me down here, still laid low by pain and sleeplessness from shingles. Woe is I.

True, there’s been lots of Quality Time with the cat, who—being ensconced on the highest level of the cat tree at the moment—could care less. And I have flowers, first from my neighbor/friend Thea’s eclectic garden and now some purple tulips from author Carolyn Thane, who is/are really author Carol Prescott and her music-expert husband Thane. The florist wrote on the card what she thought she’d heard.

As for myself, I am useless. Except that I’m the perfect test case for the futility of sleep-deprivation as a torture technique for wrenching information from a victim. Believe me, we sleepless zombies have nothing to offer. We can’t even remember what we were doing twenty minutes ago. Anyone who tortures with sleep deprivation is just being mean.

Sitting here, looking around the room that is my living area and work-space, I see the remnants of a dozen projects begun in earnest and abandoned in indifference:
A basket of laundry washed and dried on Tuesday;
A stack of file folders filled with stuff not looked at since 1995;
A pile of socks waiting to be paired or tossed;
Innumerable websites added to my “Favorites” file because I care, and yet I don’t;
An assortment of old makeup beyond salvage, and yet I cling...
Well, you get the picture.

I need to keep busy and feel useful. Instead, I start things with vigor that lasts about half an hour. Then I lose interest or energy. Even food, a treat when the body is mostly not feeling so good, can’t make the leap. Today I decided to roast a chicken with garlic, meaning to use the leftovers for chicken pot pie (sans crust). Went out and bought what I needed. Noshed instead on pita chips, a pear, grapes, macadamia nuts, and a couple glasses of already-opened wine. At present, simplicity is everything.

Under the circumstances, did you expect I’d show up with a coherent, interesting blog post?!

But I do want to share what author Sue Kearney brought to the attention of some friends today. Scientists have been examining the nature and sources of happiness, in this case using women as test subjects.

Turns our my buddies have been discussing the selfsame thing. What does it mean to be happy? How is happiness achieved? What are the barriers to happiness? (In the last case, I nominate shingles!)

Early on, someone mentioned the “famous” Abraham Lincoln quote:“Most people are about as happy as they make up their minds to be.”
Or words to that effect. Further investigation disclosed that Lincoln is not on record as saying anything of the sort. But if asked, I suspect he’d have agreed with the concept.

Should you have the time, check out this short article on web.md about a research project conducted right here at the University of California at San Diego: "Five Things Happy People Do."

http://tinyurl.com/3lyqwd

As did the faux Lincoln quote, this puts us all square in control—more or less—of our own happiness. It also offers ways to slip happiness in our lives when it seems there is none to be found, if only because we’ve wedded ourselves to an ideal of happiness that can never be. As with me and George Clooney in a hot tub, for example. Or when the happiness goals we thought we’d achieved fall apart.

Post your stories and opinions. Lots of people will be interested in your own experiences. And God knows I need some worthwhile distractions right now.

I still can’t sleep or do any useful work. And sock-sorting has lost its glamor. So, help me out here! What is “happiness” to you? What might you change, or do, to bring more happiness into your life?