Wild Nights!

Looking South

Monroe Street, Hoboken

Last evening on my way home from my friend

Erin's place on Adams, I bumped into Nostalgia. I 

wasn't surprised to see her; it was her kind of night:

the air felt just right, light cast perfect shadows,

and the communal sound of others rang clear.

We had a lot of catching up to do, so she walked 

me home; it was nice to be alone together,

whispering secrets and giggling like school girls.

I wonder if that's how Emily Dickinson felt when

she wrote that Wild Nights should be our luxury;

living in the memory of those nights is just as indulgent.

When I arrived back at Headquarters, we kissed goodbye

on the front stoop and promised to meet again soon. As she

walked back into the night, someone called to her; I watched

as she crossed the street and embraced a bright shadow.

Hand in hand, they made their way toward the corner,

only to stop quickly and wave back at me and that's

when I recognized the other girl was Happiness. 

Oh, Happiness, how I've missed thee!

Next time, please join us!

I remember one morning getting up at dawn, 

there was such a sense of possibility. 

You know, that feeling? And I remember thinking to myself: 

So, this is the beginning of happiness. This is where it starts. 

And of course there will always be more. 

It never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. 

It was happiness. It was the moment. Right then. 

- Clarrisa Vaughn, The Hours

Hope is Healthier

To have a room of my own will someday bring me joy.

I keep saying this to myself as if it might one day be true, but Easter weekend has slowed the ability to discover the truth in that statement.

I am not working with a realtor in my purchase of a first home, and I am not working with a lawyer, at least not my own. It seems like it would be easier having less people involved and it seems to be so far, but it is so so slow and there are never solid answers in the weird world of home purchasing.

I have not figured out yet whether there are no solid answers because "the customer is always right" or whether there are no solid answers because there just aren't and "processing" just takes time.

I have to believe people are working and that things are moving.

Otherwise I will make myself crazy negative in the brain. I don't like feeling that way.

I guess in the end a house will be purchased and since the people helping to buy and sell the house are not the actual ones who are buying and selling it, they don't seem to mind the wait.

A day here, a day there - no biggie.

So Wednesday was pushed to Friday because of paperwork on my end and then Friday was pushed to Monday...maybe Monday, maybe Tuesday because banks and offices were not in full functioning form this past weekend. It just doesn't seem right.

Week after week it seems like the sale date is going to be so close and then another weekend pops up. Maybe this week? I am hopeful.

I am hopeful that the lawyer will have time in her schedule. That the broker will hear back from the bank and be able to finalize the paperwork for the closing. I am hopeful there will be ink in the printer. I am hopeful that I will be able to take off from work and still manage to get to my bank and the lawyer's office without missing too many hours with my students. I am hopeful that there will be gas in my car at the right time.

I am hopeful that our friends who sold us the house will still be our friends after they sell us the house. I am hopeful that staying was the right choice. I am hopeful that we bought the right place.

This is more serious than any wedding or child I could have ever had.

I am hopeful because I know that time will pass and things will happen whether I am hopeful or dreadful. I choose hope.

The Geography of Bliss

I came across this book a few days ago at the library and upon scanning the title, quickly snatched it from its shelf:

I was never one for world geography in school (memorizing all of the countries in Eastern Europe and Africa certainly turned out to be a waste of time - I spent hours trying to memorize the spelling of Czechoslovakia) but the Geography of Bliss is a different story: someone knows the longitude and latitude of happiness?  Sign me up for this course!


Happiness is subjective, obviously, so instead of taking Eric Weiner's opinion as fact, I thought I would do some research on the subject myself.  Since hopping on a plane and traversing the globe weren't going to be possible this moring, I did the next best thing: I turned to Google.


According to my search results, a Life Magazine slide show recommends Vietnam as one of its top happy places (I think my father would disagree) and an article from the UK Telegraph believes happiness lies in one of the most sparsely populated countys in Wales.  Well, I've been to Wales and I must say, I can see why it is on that list:

Photos taken along the South West Coastal Path, Wales

There was one site that claimed Bournemouth, England was a place full of content, happy folk but I once knew a guy who grew up there in his family's camper van who couldn't wait to escape.  I don't know, it looks pretty nice to me.

Everyone has an opinion on this subject, it seems, but after wading deep into the mire of the Internet, the two reporting authorities on the subject who seem to have done their research and whom I most trust are Oprah and Mr. Geography of Bliss himself, Eric Weiner.


When a recent study claimed Denmark the happiest place in the world, Oprah took flight to discover first hand what makes the Danes so happy (I blogged my reaction to that show on my personal blog here).  


I dig the idea that Denmark is a "post consumerist society" and think I would do well there.  Plus, the thought of leaving future lil' Alba LaPointe peacefully sleeping in her carriage outside of a coffee shop while I sip lattes with my new Danish bffs really appeals to me.  Seriously - have you ever tried to negotiate your way through a sea of strollers just to get to the counter of Starbucks?  Or been mowed down by a double wide upon exiting the bathroom at a restaurant?  Carriage free coffee drinking is the way forward for me.


Weiner, on the other hand, seems to share my Bah, Humbug approach toward life (I know, I know, the point of this blog is to adjust that attitude; I'm working on it. Baby steps).  His travels took him to the one place that of late, I've dreamed of moving to: Switzerland.


My dear friend Lynsey, a Scottish gal who is a true firecracker, lives in Basel and from my talks with her about its lack of crime (5 year olds walk to school.  ALONE.), efficiency in all aspects of city living, particularly mass transit, cleanliness (apparently, there is no litter in Switzerland and no pollution. Zip. Zero. Nada.), I'm ready to pack my bags and start a new.


There is an aspect, Lyns mentioned once, that could be off putting to some; Weiner agrees with her, I discovered: compared to Americans, the Swiss may seem, um, how should I say this, aloof? Non-demonstrative? 


Hmm. Can a fairly hyper gal like me find happiness in a place that is calm and reticent?


I think so.  


Who I appear to be is not really who I am.  Yes, I do tend to juke and jive and talk a lot at times but the majority of my life is spent in silence.  I like to be alone.  I don't like noise and confusion.  If you've read my personal blog, you know that I hate the sound of laughter.


In fact, I'm quite a dull person when I'm not entertaining others.


Matt's bank has an office in Zurich and lately, he's been dealing with those who work there and has established a great rapport.  Last night at dinner, he casually asked me how close Zurich is to where my friend Lynsey lives.  


I would move to Zurich in a heartbeat (its public bathrooms are to die for in terms of cleanliness, I read).  I can imagine myself spending weekends walking in the Alps (Weiner writes that above all, the Swiss turn to nature as their source of happiness) and strolling Alba through the streets of fresh air during the week.
     
Would this environment that seemingly lacks the drama and stimulation of life in New Jersey (I doubt there are Swiss versions of JWoww and Snooki) bore me?


Who knows, but after reading this in Weiner's book, I think I would do just fine:

"Maybe happiness is this: not feeling like you should be elsewhere, doing something else, being someone else. Maybe the current conditions in Switzerland... 

make it easier to 'be' and therefore, 'be happy'."