The Pursuit of Happiness

If you ask a foreigner, especially a European, they’d say Americans are neurotic. Which is true, of course. Most of the world doesn't really get the “on time” idea. Time is irrelevant when life is being lived. We Americans worry and obsess over our near and distant futures that we forget the ‘why’ in our mania over the ‘how.’ That is, when achieving a goal trumps the process of achieving. We’re so concerned with… well, we’re just so concerned. We’re going places quickly, we’re crunching for deadlines, we’re skimming to get through it. We’re left at the end thinking there’s just not enough time in the day to get everything done. But, what exactly are we getting done? What did I actually do today? I went to a class that quantifies my knowledge and ability to perceive into a range of five letters. (My sociology class is rationalizing and standardizing me. Hilarious!) Then I spent two whole hours trying to get a discount on train tickets that I bought to go see my family this weekend to postpone my inevitable nervous breakdown I’ll have from fear of failure in this crucial time in my life: college. Then I ate. Then I went to another class which is modeled entirely by bureaucrats, or “bean counters” as my professor likes to call them, because it’s a general education requirement for every degree here- so of course it has to be useless. They clearly weren't able to distinguish the difference between accumulating points and learning. Then I ate again. Then I went to an Undergraduates For Publishing meeting where, instead of paying attention to the author Q&A that the meeting was for, I found myself much more interested with what the girl in front of me was doing with her hair. She had some of it in this little clip and then slowly wrapped other groups of hair around it, to make this kind of swirly line along her head. Then she undid it. She did this over and over again the entire time. And I watched her- the entire time. Then I went back to my room, ate some more, got kicked out because my roommate needs to be in a cone of silence in order to go to sleep, and then finally ended up here, in the floor common room, where I’m writing this shit at 1:00 in the morning instead of doing my homework that’s due… today. And I sat, an hour ago, thinking there’s just not enough hours in the day, asking where all the time went. Where did it go? What am I doing? I’m trying to stay sane and alive in a place that I’m just using to get my degree to hopefully get a good job in a field that I’m hoping I’ll be able to stand for the rest of my life so that I can earn enough money to get my own home in which I can have kids and then save enough to send them off to do the same exact thing. And I call that happiness. I’m going to college so that one day I can achieve real happiness. People here always say that, don’t they? “What do you want in life?” “I just want to be happy, man.” And then they spend at least a good ten years of scurrying around, frantically keeping connections and building resumes to get to “happiness.” Foreigners don’t get it. They’re happy in that moment that they’re living in. For them, happiness isn't some distant notion that’s directly associated with the success of their pursuits. It’s just not about pursuits. The moment is there, given to them, and they choose to savor it. Do you think they have it right?

If you asked Freud, we’d surely be his next case history on severe neuroses. We’re abnormally sensitive, obsessive, tense and anxious. And yet somehow, America is the top nation in the world in just about everything. We are the world’s big sister (I say sister because we are much more involved with fashion and gossip than a typical big brother would be). If we go down, so does everyone else. When we have good times, the world has good times (well, except most of Africa- they’re kind of in a perpetual bad time). So maybe there’s something good to be said about anxious Americans. After all, we created the land of opportunity. Isn't that incredible? It certainly is.

If a neurotic nation can be so awesome, that makes me feel a bit better about my being neurotic. I’m a little bit crazy. I think way, way too much- spend a whole hell of a lot more time in my head than I should. It’s made me nuts. I’m in a constant state of worry about my near and distant future. And then sometimes, it apexes, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here. I’m always wrong and I’m seldom happy. I’m nothing more than the red ink on my papers- and the anxiety it causes- the noise in my mind that it creates! But as I walked into the common room, a profound silence hit me. The large windows that face the city were illuminated by the fact that the whole room was dark. I left my things in the entrance, and in a trance, made my way to the glass. I gazed outside and laughed about how silly everyone looked on the street, being so busy as they were, going home, or going to a club, or picking up some last minute milk. I thought “this nation is so neurotic.” And then I remembered how successful America is. How everyone looks up to us. How talented and beautiful and great we are. We are successful, and so we are happy. Happiness for me, for America, is synonymous with success. Naturally, that would make us a little anxious with the bar for happiness set so high. But we reach it. And we surpass it. And we reach it again. Within the responsibility of being awesome, comes the anxiety of meeting your own high standards.

It gave me hope that maybe I, too, can be great. That I, too, can achieve happiness- despite the fact that the pursuit of it makes me a little bit crazy.