Three or more days ago, someone that I haven’t really had the chance to interact with, asked me if I was happy with what I was doing. I instinctively said yes, of course. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t spend an ounce of thought over it. I mean, we are by nature impressionists, few people could really claim that we aren’t, considering that we usually judge a person’s character based on their appearance, their swagger, their diction and how they eat their pasta for that matter. So rarely am I bothered about other people’s perception of me. I’ve been judged harshly too often by people I only know as acquaintances, and at an early stage I have already learned how to discern those opinions that matter and those that I should ignore. However, this particular incident really bothered me, not so much that her opinions matter but maybe because I’ve only converse with this person not more than twice. Do I really look that unhappy? Where does it show? On my being straightforward about the way I perceive things? Admittedly, I don’t mince words some people find it tactless while others find it refreshing. I am not a “gopher” guy, I don’t do just as you say, I say my piece and then I do what you say, that is if unfortunately my piece happen to fall on deaf ears.
Anyway, I could write a thousand reasons why she asked, and I could also write a thousand excuses and say “you’re dead wrong” – I am happy. What is happiness really? I always define happiness as that gooey feeling, the feeling of butterflies in your stomach, a glowing skin and a smile plastered on your face – not the ones I usually wore when I try to be Ms. Congeniality, which by the way is working superbly. It is when you perceive that the traffic in EDSA is lighter, when in fact it looks like a parking lot. It is when you spilled coffee on your favorite skirt, yet still managed to smile at the person beside you. It is when you feel that nothing and no one can stop you from pursuing your dreams because you know you have the skills and the competencies to reach it. It is when life is just absolutely beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, I still think life is beautiful albeit not perfect. But, why do I feel that she’s right. That I am absolutely miserable with the way things are going with my so called life. Truth be told, I have every reason to be happy, grateful and blessed. But why do I feel so empty? Why don’t I see the value of what I am doing anymore?
What is happiness really? Is it just a figment of our imagination? A way for us to fool ourselves that we have enough? In the movie “the pursuit of happyness” – the protagonist mentioned that we have the right to pursue our own happiness, i.e. happiness is pursued. It isn’t something that would just fall on our laps. It is constantly pursued, thus it never stays. It is always fleeting.
And so I guess, the right answer to the question if I am happy is this: I honestly don’t know, but right now I am actively pursuing something that might make me happy in the near future.
still pursuing my own happiness