Hell

I admit that I've started about three other posts now, and haven't posted any of them. I suppose I have a bit of writers block. Which I suppose is strange, because I'm only writing about my life. I'm living it every day obviously, but I can't seem to think of anything interesting enough to actually post. I suppose when it comes down to it, my life really isn't that interesting, and any drama in my present life I'd rather not write about until it has resolved itself. I'm much too prudent to post something in the heat of the moment, only to make things worse.

I'm dreaming a lot about moving into my new apartment for the fall. I'll be living with my roommate from last semester and best friend, River, and two other really nice girls who were a couple floors above me last year. For the first time since I've been at school I'll have my own room. I'm really excited about that. It's nice to have a room to yourself.

Lately I've been thinking a lot about happiness. Everyone seems to have a lot of ideas about what will make them happy, but I know very few people who are actually happy. I suppose there's very little you can do to guarantee you're happy. I don't know, maybe it's just in our genetic make up to always be looking for more. The only way I know of to feel really good really fast is to do things that mess with the chemicals in your head that make you either feel euphoric or not feel at all, through sex, food, exercise, drugs, whatever. But just being contented in your life is so hard. I mean overall I'm content, but happiness is still elusive. I can feel good. I wouldn't say I feel happy. Maybe our make-ups just won't let us know what real happiness is. If we were completely happy we would never work for anything else, and that's evolutionarily not beneficial. If you stop working you tend to be the one that dies in the famine. Maybe this world is just too hard to let people be happy. Maybe we're just in hell and making the best of it. It makes sense if you think about it. The levels of unhappiness, the levels of hell, we just can't accept that we're never going to be perfectly happy, so we do our best to improve the situation. I think that's the true human ingenuity. As a whole, we can't just accept things, we want to make things easier for us, and thus we just keep marching along.