The Art of Being Happy

This is a summer for reflection, self-betterment, and forward thinking. That being said, here are the morning musings of you average college-bound gal: 

"The Art of Being Happy"

• It's easy to become discontent with an empty heart. When searching turns to wandering, that's when we really become lost and confused. The moral of the story? Stop searching and let things naturally happen. 
• When modern modes of communication fail, write a letter. Spend lazy summer mornings scribbling in notebooks and drying out pens. There's something extremely cathartic about it. 
• Think realistically, dream idealistically. The concept of "eliminating expectations to remove disappointment" is complete bullshit. Expectations are important, they keep us from accepting less than we deserve. When we completely remove that, we're letting go of our dreams and settling. 
• Exercise in the morning. Seriously, the endorphins will kick in mid-day and it's nothing but smiles, love, and laughter afterward. (Unless exercise involves cardio kickboxing...in which case, be prepared for intense back pain, muscle soreness, temporary paralysis, uncontrollable whining etc. etc.)  
• Do things for no apparent reason. Wander around New York City without an agenda. Swim in library fountains and jump into canals. Walk around entire towns without shoes. Live every day with a dose of excitement, stupidity, and spontaneity. 

Vermont

 Highlights -

She and Him

He was a boy who craved love in its truest form. And She was a girl who grew completely numb to the subject. In the 9th grade, He fell for her best friend. Hopelessly, He searched for love in a heart that belonged to someone else. He was falling, and not in the way He had wanted. And She watched him fall, so desperately wanting to help him back up. She wanted to offer him a different kind of love, the kind He stopped intently searching for. She wanted to be his friend. So in the 10th grade, She embarked on a conquest. They had biology together, but lacked chemistry. Yes, their relationship had progressed. But it was cordial, it was friendly, and She was left unsatisfied up until the end of 11th grade. It was then that a quick game of jenga and a trip to a bounce house solidified their friendship. They had genuine fun, carelessly laughing and getting high in the most innocent of ways. But this time, a part of him was left unsatisfied. He had jumped and He had fallen. It was a midsummer nightmare which slowly evolved into a made for TV drama. In the 12th grade, He was passive, never saying anything directly to her. She was just as passive, secretly allowing herself to develop feelings for his best friend. Ironically, they grew out of their passivity together. She pushed herself to be up-front with his best friend and He allowed himself to openly pursue her cousin. While She found recurring rejection and heartache, He finally found love in its truest form. And She was genuinely happy for him, genuinely happy for them.

Transition Lenses

This is my internal monologue: 

1. I find myself in a state of constant reflection. Some of life's smallest details bring back fond memories from not so long ago. And looking back, I can't help but acknowledge how much has changed. The memories make me happy, but I'm struggling to figure out how I feel about the past/present comparisons. 
2. It's sad because we grew up and grew apart at the same time. 
3. I've said this before and I'll say it again: There's a big difference between doing things that make you happy and actually being happy. And right now, I don't know where I stand. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just going through the motions. I make plans and I have fun. But at the same time, I have lingering thoughts/emotions that make me question if I am actually "happy". 
4. Ignored and insignificant. Yep, thats me. (Shout out to the "seen"/"read" options for making me feel this way)   
5. I can battle anything with a seemingly indifferent attitude, but the fact of the matter is I still care. I'm willing to put in effort when other people could give less than two flying fucks. And I absolutely hate that about myself.
6. If anyone ever casually says "lool kk" to me in conversation, I might chop their head off. 
7. If I hear "Clarity" on the radio one more time, I might chop my head off. 
8. If #6 and #7 were to happen simultaneously, I honesty do not know what I would do with myself. Perhaps hire someone to do the chopping? 
9. I'm beginning to feel that this blog post is the equivalent of a really obvious subtweet. Thank God for my virtually nonexistent fanbase, because I'm really not about those online fights. 
10. I need sleep. Adieu for the time being. 

Summer Haze / Boy Craze

I love boys. I really do. But as of late, it appears that only mosquitoes love me. It's rather unfortunate that I am going through this phase now because my "conquests" leave me tired and thirsty. They are seemingly perfect, completely sound on a completely superficial level. They are the music festival photographer, the part-time model/full-time film major, and the beautiful cashier at pacsun. In a moment of near dehydration, I texted the latter and inquired about some "rad" sweatshirts he's selling. I might even meet up with him to buy a "soul search" hoodie. And maybe then, the universe will stop as we lock eyes and share a perfect/infinite/(and possibly steamy?) moment. Or maybe I'll hand him the money, he'll hand me the sweatshirt, and we'll go our separate ways. Either way, I'm craving interaction on the most basic level and I don't care ( i love it )