I’ve finished with November and began December in Gretchen Rubin’s “The Happiness Project.  November mirrored my dilemma of self more than the others.  In November, Rubin focused on her critical nature as a source of unhappiness.  She claimed that criticizing makes us appear smarter and feel superior.  I hadn’t really thought of my own insatiability as serving those purposes. 

In fact, if anything, they seem to make me feel more disconnected from the group, though, in reality, my groups have been rather critical.  However, I am going to take note in her evaluations and attempt to be more conscience of this default I have to want the world around me to hold itself to higher standards.  Yes, I want utopia.  In the law of attraction, that should be a valuable desire, but in reality, I suppose it’s a big bummer and an enforcement of how flawed the environment at large is. 

I’m not sure how you get better and better if you don’t recognize what’s not so hot, but there must be a way so, while she attempted to bite her tongue for an entire week, I’ll give it a shot tomorrow.  Tomorrow is my first day at a job any outsider would say is a waste of my mind and talents, but in an effort to launch my CD without capital, I’m in need of some bill-paying money so here I go.  If I fail my dreams, I want to at least be happy because happiness is the superior state, no matter what we smarty pants think.

With the responsibility of a minimum wage job comes early and long hours so my normal routine of working when inspired, no matter what wee hour that might be, will be temporarily haulted.  So, too, will my regular blogging, I imagine, but we shall see.  Just when I took the bandage from the tip of one of my typing fingers, too!

If I can muscle up the creativity afterward, I believe this little veg-head, environmental, peacenik will be writing about what it’s like to work in a shop of ammo and fish bait.  Should be rather interesting.  Any ideas on what that blog might be called?

Rubin did say something that rubbed me the wrong way.  In her constant attention to herself, she noticed that saying that she was exhausted and was turning in early was actually a complaint.  Lord, child.  If you’re exhausted, you’re exhausted.  A complaint is, “You’ve wiped me out to the point in which I can’t deal anymore so good night.”  Honestly, how does anyone achieve being happy while being so damned hard on themselves?  I speak from the experience of being one of those people.  Last night, I set out to wake up at six AM.  I spent the ENTIRE NIGHT tossing and turning.  I have to figure out how to bed down by nine because I have to go to work. 

Facts, is facts.