happiness

the best days begin with cupcakes. my supervisor is amazing.

this week was the kind of fantastic that makes every aspect of my current life seem just perfect. i know it's not, but i haven't felt this happy with my circumstances in a very long time. but, of course, i can't just be happy, i have to be that gushy, reverie-dwelling kind of happy. five years ago i would have shaken my head at the promise of this kind of happiness.

i am listening to my ipod (which i have probably used twice since i got my iphone) through headphones. my room is dark other than the light from my computer, and i'm writing and reflecting. i feel like i did in high school when i'd sit in my room late at night with my headphones in, my little lamp on, and i would write. every time carly simon, carole king, or chantal kreviazuk, or lisa loeb comes on, i've stop the reflex to skip it, but rather let the songs take me back to an old me. before "normal" music was on my agenda, i had an affinity for 70s music-- i can admit without embarrassment that i asked for a carpenter's cd for my 12th birthday, and my grandma took me to see neil diamond when i was 14-- i wasn't your average teenaged girl. so naturally, my writing was incredibly influenced by this era. ten years later, i still find it hard to base story ideas outside of this time period. anyway, i remember sitting in bed with my ipod and writers journal at night drafting my piece for the next week's critique group and "knowing" that i would be a writer and an english teacher. i never wanted to be a teacher because that had always been pegged as my future, but i guess i always secretly knew that was what i wanted.

i went away to school just like every other nerdy honors student with helicopter parents: terrified. despite orientation efforts and preparing for my room all summer, i only really focused on academics. i wanted to be ahead in my classes, so i bought all the books for my two english classes (even though i was only supposed to be in one first semester), read, reread, and highlighted them all summer. i remember getting my roommate's name and not wanting to contact her. i remember spending hours stressing about having to live in a traditional hall with public bathrooms. i remember being so scared to live on an 'honors hall' and feeling intimidated by everyone who was smarter than i was. 18-year old me was mostly painfully shy, sometimes awkward, introverted, and at best coping with anxiety issues that i didn't know how to ask for help with: now send that person to college and expect her to thrive. no really, it's exactly what should happen.

today, i attended an all-staff retreat where i ended up doing more self-reflection than anything. my journey is cliche in this field, beginning with homesickness turning into a great residential experience, leading to an ra position, a passion for res life, and turning into a career path. surrounded by people with very similar stories, i forget that not everyone went away to school, moved into a white-walled, shoebox of a room, and have it change their live in every way. i love it when people tell me that their best friend is their roommate from freshman year, how their ra helped them and they will always be grateful, or how their current spouse lived right down the hall. i wound up with two of the three, and an added bonus: i found myself, my future, and my career in that little white room. and that, to me at least, is incredible. the aspect of my college experience i didn't even think about, and the room with all of my best and worst memories from that year, is what ultimately led me here.

i think i finally understand the concept that happiness isn't the goal, but a byproduct. i've spent the past few years with the objective to find happiness. funny how as soon as i opted for adventure, challenge, and dreams outside of my comfort zone, happiness seemed to be right there.