Feeling: aggravated
Listening to: You're Pretty - Breakthrough or Breakdown
Reading/Watching: In Her Shoes, by Jennifer Weiner

Am I just annoyingly, stupidly content?

Someone today asserted that all around him, he saw stupid people with "brains the size of peanuts" living in all this happiness, and how it wasn't fair, because they didn't even try, yadda yadda.

And I'm wondering if that extends to include me, because what he said offended me a little bit. I am aware that I am an optimist, and I have a self-applied description of "annoyingly chipper," because I tend to be happy when I'm keeping active and doing things I see as productive, no matter how small they are. I tend to do annoyingly aesthetic things like smile at sunsets, laugh at babies, enjoy a good rainstorm, whatever.

I've even gotten to the point where, if I roll out of bed and I'm dreading going to work and want to call in sick or quit my job, I force myself to go because I know (by prior experience) that if I give in to the impulse, I'll hate myself later. I've had enough concentrated idleness and loneliness in the past two or three (or five or six) years to know that sitting there and whining does nothing. Sitting there and waiting for good things to come find you does nothing. You have to go out into the world and find things to be happy about.

So yeah. I'm happy. I've made myself happy, I've kicked a lot of my own ass and come through a lot of disappointed hopes and a lot of broken trust, and I didn't give up and I didn't let it make me cruel or bitter, and now I'm happy.

So I must be too stupid to see what I'm lacking, right? Because only stupid people are happy.

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