I was cleaning out my Music Theory notebook to make space for this summer’s work, and pulled a page of writing out that I had done in one dreary, boring morning class—for some reason, I was thinking about happiness. I remember that one morning I had an insane urge to write, so I pulled out a sheet of paper and ignored my theory teacher while I wrote everything that was on my mind. Here it is

Where do you find happiness? Caught up in a smile, a furtive glance shot a friend across the room? How do you find happiness? It hides in the most obvious places—the bookstore, the coffeeshop, the music room. Don’t you find happiness in love? But where do you find that? That fleeting thing—there one day and gone the next. Dependent on tolerance and acceptance and commitment. No one can surrender to that anymore. No love, then no happiness? Then can any of us be happy? Can we find happiness in travel, music, novels, friends, family (maybe not family)? I wonder. Can these things be enough?

The pursuit of happiness. A seemingly hopeless venture to a seemingly unattainable state. There are so many rules! Do something you love, find someone you love, live someplace you love, love, love, love.

The pursuit of love. An ecstatic feeling of losing control of your own emotions. Funny how losing control makes everything fall into place.

(Apparently I was feeling particularly pessimistic that morning. My apologies.)


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