Late Night Babbling

I hate when I'm soooo tired yet still stay up only to start thinking about the millions of things I have to do the next day so when I do try to fall asleep, magically poof, not tired anymore. Damn.

It's so lonely to be up late at night and the apartment is quiet. G. is sound asleep, as is little Filo (who visited the dog groomers today--no more tostada chips!--wait is that gross???).

I hate to be awake at night and hear a car roaring down the street (I live off of a very busy main street). What the hell? Are loud Fast and the Furious type cars some sort of youth entertainment trend that I'm too old to understand? Its probably just some new version of classic car worship. I bet anybody who knows anything about cars thinks I sound silly. I know nothing about cars except tire pressure and oil changes.

Hmmm, I've been meaning to talk about happiness. I am in the middle of two (gasp!) self-help books about happiness. I also came across articles about happiness in two magazines that were interesting. It's not that I'm unhappy per se, or at least I'd like to describe it as 'stuck', 'overwhelmed', even 'lonely' perhaps. Ugh, even as I write this, I can't help but feel quite indulgent to be discussing unhappiness when thousands of people along the Gulf Coast have lost everything or their lives have been so dramatically disrupted. The hurricane has made that type of devastation and pain more immediate for Americans, I think. Here's just a sampling of the world's troubles: Iraq war, relocation of Israeli settlers, bombings in London, students taken hostage in Russia, hunger--absolutely horrible events daily cause people to suffer everyday. It is humbling to keep that fact in mind and I am grateful for G., Filo, family, health, air conditioning... Too much of the world's horrors, however, can turn you into a Woody Allen character (Stardust Memories, Annie Hall, Crimes and Misdemeaners, Hannah and her Sisters...)

Hell, it's my blog, I'm going to be indulgent for just a bit longer. I wonder if my age is causing me to define my general state of affairs. I know I'm not "old" and I don't feel old. Do people, once they reach a certain time of their life, have to define themselves, almost like reaquaint themselves with who they have become? This process sounds like such a cliche--something I would usually mock. This phase could be the plot of some poorly written (oh alright, servicable) chick lit. It probably doesn't help that one of the happiness articles was in Glamour magazine.

Did you know you can be happy(ier) in nine simple steps? All it takes is exercise (eh), sleep (damn), simplify your day, set realistic goals, socialize, yada yada yada. I should tone down the sneers, after all, I purchased two books about happiness on my own. The books are helping, little by little. For example, everybody, even the worst of people, are just trying to be happy in their own small and usually ineffective way. Also, we aren't meant to be happy all the time. You are responsible for your own happiness and not responsible for other people's happiness. Perhaps the phrase I am working on is trying to figure out what really matters to me. Its like I know what matters to me, intuitively, but I need to spell it out. NPR's Morning Edition has a version of this exercise with their This I Believe series. I envy how the participants can lay out their beliefs nice and clear (yes, there is editing, I know). I think I need to try to write out my beliefs, values, things that matter. It can't hurt, right?

The eyelids are starting to feel heavy. Must take advantage of oncoming sleepiness.