Dinner for One: Part Twenty-Five
“Love is letting go of fear.” - Gerald Jampolsky
“A person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” - Thomas Edward Bodett
A few days ago I had a conversation on the phone with a friend of mine who said (and remember, I’m paraphrasing) something to the effect of “I think you’re a very lucky man, Jim.”
I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond to that. When the silence started to reach the awkward stage, I said, “I’m lucky? How do you figure?” All I could think, to be perfectly honest, was that recently widowed has never come close to my definition of lucky. Not once, not ever.
And he responded rather hastily, “I mean, I know about your being widowed and everything, but I think you’ve got a better outlook on life than a lot of people do.”
There were a few more explanations from my friend. Mostly what it came down to was that I’m more optimistic than a lot of people he knows, many of whom, by most estimations, would have far better reasons to be cheerful.
There were no accusations or rampages if that’s what you were expecting. No, it was merely a conversation between friends and an observation. But it’s stuck with me for the last few days. Like so many things that stick in my skull, it’s left me a lot to ruminate on.
What is the definition of happiness? Oh, I don’t mean the one in Webster’s or even the Oxford Dictionary. Just the definition that you live by as an individual. What about optimism? What about, and this was the word that made me hesitate in the first place, luck?
Well, let’s look this over, shall we? I don’t know if I’m happy. I think I might be getting to better balanced, but happy? I can make it through the day without having to remember how to breathe (Sleepless in Seattle, there’s some serious wisdom in the words of that movie. Or if not wisdom, at least accuracy.). Still, does that constitute anything remotely like happiness? There are people who make me smile. There are people around whom I can relax and be myself and yes, even laugh. But even that doesn’t necessarily constitute happiness, does it?
Maybe we’ll just have to get back to that one.
Am I an optimist? Well, I try to be. I tend to think that’s almost a survival skill when you get right down to it. I mean, come on, if you spend every day moping and waiting for the worst to come your way, what’s the point? I would rather bust my fanny all day every day and try to get somewhere with my career than lament that it’s not where I’d like it to be. Whining accomplishes nothing in my book (Though to be fair, it sometimes feels good in very small doses.). There’s almost always something to be said for finding the humor in a situation. So, if I have a particularly bad day, I can normally at least find a germ of a good joke in there, even if some of them tend toward the sarcastic and the sadistic. What? Don’t look at me that way. I never once claimed I was a nice guy. I’ve caused more than my fair share of emotional injuries with a few well-placed snide comments and heaping spoonfuls of snark, thank you just the same.
Still, on the days when I would rather curl up and die, I normally get out of bed and get about the business of doing something more useful than feeling sorry for myself. Self-pity and depression: Let me tell you, they’re easy to fall victim to. I’ve done it more than once. The thing about both is, they offer comforts all their own, and they promise you a certain security. What they offer is hollow. That’s just a lesson each person has to learn individually… And really, most of the lessons we learn in this world are that way, aren’t they? The ones that matter, at least.
Let me put it another way: I work as a freelance writer and novelist. No, not exactly unique in the world, but if you don’t learn optimism or at least develop a serious case of extreme patience while working that particular gig, you either have an ego the size of the continental United States or you are blessed with a chemical imbalance that keeps you perpetually perky. Just in case you’re wondering, I don’t suffer from either of those situations (Well, I can’t really judge my own ego, but I don’t think it’s QUITE that large.).
Still, I tend to believe that what I write will sell eventually. I can look at a half empty glass and decide that it’s half full. I have even been known to keep a good mood as I move through bumper-to-bumper traffic, so I suppose I can be included in the Optimists Club, though I sincerely doubt I’ll ever hold an office. I’m just not that enthusiastic about my optimism, if you can see my point here.
Lucky? Well, that just puts us back in the arena where we have to look for definitions, doesn’t it? I suppose that you could say everyone is lucky; it’s just a matter of whether that luck is good or bad. I mostly make a living at the profession of my choice, and I do so against the odds. From the statistics I’ve heard (Oh, go look them up, you KNOW I’m too bloody lazy to do it for you) the odds against being published by a major New York publishing house are pretty monumental. I’ve managed it on multiple occasions and with different houses (exactly how major some of them were is a matter for the experts, but you get the idea). I’ve been nominated for a few awards and even won one (with a co-author, thanks, but it still counts.). Despite the cries that “horror is dead” which have been called out since I started my career, I’ve continuously managed to get published. Does that constitute luck? Maybe. We’ve discussed this before. There’s the talent thing. Maybe I’ve got a little. Maybe it IS luck. Maybe it’s God or Fate or however you want to put it. Maybe it’s a combination of all of the above or none of the above. Maybe it’s a cosmic balancing of the scales to make up for my abysmal eyesight.
We’ll just shelve that example.
I’m a writer. That doesn’t necessarily make up my entire existence. It’s one facet among many.
So what’s next? Despite spending a good deal of money on it over the years, I never won the lottery. I didn’t even break even. Not close. Not financially at least. I still maintain I got pure gold when I met Bonnie and graduated up to platinum when she said yes to my marriage proposal. Of course the circumstances have changed there, haven’t they? Still, I think it’s safe to call that facet a win.
Financially I’m not filthy stinking rich. Neither am I destitute, though that fluctuates regularly as any midlist writer can tell you. Sometimes the coffers are heavy and sometimes you scrounge for pennies and hope they do the job. So, not very conclusive in either direction.
I don’t have a lot of enemies. Or if I do, I remain blissfully unaware of them and that suits me just fine.
I have a good number of friends. I do believe I’ve also made clear that I consider myself luck/blessed along those lines, so it’s one for the win column.
I don’t have perfect health. I have diabetes and I’m overweight. The former I am managing, the latter I’m actively working on and having a decent amount of success with. Want to know something that I found unsettling? The shirts I bought last spring don’t fit anymore. They’re too big. They are, by and large, positively baggy. Good on me. But I have to call that persistence and a touch of willpower (I haven’t given in to the siren call of fried foods and chocolates very often in the last year) more than luck. Also, the exercise regimen is working. Imagine that, all the people who said I should get off my lazy butt and work out? Turns out they were right. You learn something new every day.
Still, it can’t go in the luck column.
I’m not the smartest soul on the planet, but I’m not the dumbest, either. I can normally tell a friend from a foe, and I don’t often fall for con games. Granted, there have been a few people who could make me stupid, but that’s always been the way with the fairer sex, now hasn’t it? A good number of people have come to me for advice over the years and most of them are still speaking to me, so I guess we can go with a win in the brains column.
My best man at my wedding surprised me by quoting something I’d said to him in conversation fully nine years earlier. What I’d said, what he quoted back to me that I had actually forgotten until he said it back was simply this: “All I need to be happy in the world is a roof over my head, enough food to eat and a woman who loves me as much as I love her.” By that assessment, I’ve been happy far more often than I’ve been sad. Sometimes it’s just a matter of perspective, I think. Sometimes it’s someone to share that perspective with who will listen and will understand.
I have often told people that I think we make our own luck. Certainly, we have to work for it. Now and then you get a good break. Now and then you get a spiral fracture instead. I don’t know that I can believe in luck as a major factor beyond that point. I have been lucky enough to meet some amazing people in my life. I been fortunate enough to have my fair share of successes. I have also had the misfortune to deal with disasters, too.
Then again, haven’t we all?
Is everything peachy in my world?
No. I can say it hasn't been since I found Bonnie's body. Maybe someday, but not just now.
But I can accept that.
At the end of the day there’s not much choice in that.
What? I should sit in bed and whine about it all day?
I guess maybe I’m just a little bit of an optimist after all. I guess in the long run my friend was more right than wrong on that one.
It is what it is.
“A person needs just three things to be truly happy in this world: someone to love, something to do, and something to hope for.” - Thomas Edward Bodett
A few days ago I had a conversation on the phone with a friend of mine who said (and remember, I’m paraphrasing) something to the effect of “I think you’re a very lucky man, Jim.”
I paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond to that. When the silence started to reach the awkward stage, I said, “I’m lucky? How do you figure?” All I could think, to be perfectly honest, was that recently widowed has never come close to my definition of lucky. Not once, not ever.
And he responded rather hastily, “I mean, I know about your being widowed and everything, but I think you’ve got a better outlook on life than a lot of people do.”
There were a few more explanations from my friend. Mostly what it came down to was that I’m more optimistic than a lot of people he knows, many of whom, by most estimations, would have far better reasons to be cheerful.
There were no accusations or rampages if that’s what you were expecting. No, it was merely a conversation between friends and an observation. But it’s stuck with me for the last few days. Like so many things that stick in my skull, it’s left me a lot to ruminate on.
What is the definition of happiness? Oh, I don’t mean the one in Webster’s or even the Oxford Dictionary. Just the definition that you live by as an individual. What about optimism? What about, and this was the word that made me hesitate in the first place, luck?
Well, let’s look this over, shall we? I don’t know if I’m happy. I think I might be getting to better balanced, but happy? I can make it through the day without having to remember how to breathe (Sleepless in Seattle, there’s some serious wisdom in the words of that movie. Or if not wisdom, at least accuracy.). Still, does that constitute anything remotely like happiness? There are people who make me smile. There are people around whom I can relax and be myself and yes, even laugh. But even that doesn’t necessarily constitute happiness, does it?
Maybe we’ll just have to get back to that one.
Am I an optimist? Well, I try to be. I tend to think that’s almost a survival skill when you get right down to it. I mean, come on, if you spend every day moping and waiting for the worst to come your way, what’s the point? I would rather bust my fanny all day every day and try to get somewhere with my career than lament that it’s not where I’d like it to be. Whining accomplishes nothing in my book (Though to be fair, it sometimes feels good in very small doses.). There’s almost always something to be said for finding the humor in a situation. So, if I have a particularly bad day, I can normally at least find a germ of a good joke in there, even if some of them tend toward the sarcastic and the sadistic. What? Don’t look at me that way. I never once claimed I was a nice guy. I’ve caused more than my fair share of emotional injuries with a few well-placed snide comments and heaping spoonfuls of snark, thank you just the same.
Still, on the days when I would rather curl up and die, I normally get out of bed and get about the business of doing something more useful than feeling sorry for myself. Self-pity and depression: Let me tell you, they’re easy to fall victim to. I’ve done it more than once. The thing about both is, they offer comforts all their own, and they promise you a certain security. What they offer is hollow. That’s just a lesson each person has to learn individually… And really, most of the lessons we learn in this world are that way, aren’t they? The ones that matter, at least.
Let me put it another way: I work as a freelance writer and novelist. No, not exactly unique in the world, but if you don’t learn optimism or at least develop a serious case of extreme patience while working that particular gig, you either have an ego the size of the continental United States or you are blessed with a chemical imbalance that keeps you perpetually perky. Just in case you’re wondering, I don’t suffer from either of those situations (Well, I can’t really judge my own ego, but I don’t think it’s QUITE that large.).
Still, I tend to believe that what I write will sell eventually. I can look at a half empty glass and decide that it’s half full. I have even been known to keep a good mood as I move through bumper-to-bumper traffic, so I suppose I can be included in the Optimists Club, though I sincerely doubt I’ll ever hold an office. I’m just not that enthusiastic about my optimism, if you can see my point here.
Lucky? Well, that just puts us back in the arena where we have to look for definitions, doesn’t it? I suppose that you could say everyone is lucky; it’s just a matter of whether that luck is good or bad. I mostly make a living at the profession of my choice, and I do so against the odds. From the statistics I’ve heard (Oh, go look them up, you KNOW I’m too bloody lazy to do it for you) the odds against being published by a major New York publishing house are pretty monumental. I’ve managed it on multiple occasions and with different houses (exactly how major some of them were is a matter for the experts, but you get the idea). I’ve been nominated for a few awards and even won one (with a co-author, thanks, but it still counts.). Despite the cries that “horror is dead” which have been called out since I started my career, I’ve continuously managed to get published. Does that constitute luck? Maybe. We’ve discussed this before. There’s the talent thing. Maybe I’ve got a little. Maybe it IS luck. Maybe it’s God or Fate or however you want to put it. Maybe it’s a combination of all of the above or none of the above. Maybe it’s a cosmic balancing of the scales to make up for my abysmal eyesight.
We’ll just shelve that example.
I’m a writer. That doesn’t necessarily make up my entire existence. It’s one facet among many.
So what’s next? Despite spending a good deal of money on it over the years, I never won the lottery. I didn’t even break even. Not close. Not financially at least. I still maintain I got pure gold when I met Bonnie and graduated up to platinum when she said yes to my marriage proposal. Of course the circumstances have changed there, haven’t they? Still, I think it’s safe to call that facet a win.
Financially I’m not filthy stinking rich. Neither am I destitute, though that fluctuates regularly as any midlist writer can tell you. Sometimes the coffers are heavy and sometimes you scrounge for pennies and hope they do the job. So, not very conclusive in either direction.
I don’t have a lot of enemies. Or if I do, I remain blissfully unaware of them and that suits me just fine.
I have a good number of friends. I do believe I’ve also made clear that I consider myself luck/blessed along those lines, so it’s one for the win column.
I don’t have perfect health. I have diabetes and I’m overweight. The former I am managing, the latter I’m actively working on and having a decent amount of success with. Want to know something that I found unsettling? The shirts I bought last spring don’t fit anymore. They’re too big. They are, by and large, positively baggy. Good on me. But I have to call that persistence and a touch of willpower (I haven’t given in to the siren call of fried foods and chocolates very often in the last year) more than luck. Also, the exercise regimen is working. Imagine that, all the people who said I should get off my lazy butt and work out? Turns out they were right. You learn something new every day.
Still, it can’t go in the luck column.
I’m not the smartest soul on the planet, but I’m not the dumbest, either. I can normally tell a friend from a foe, and I don’t often fall for con games. Granted, there have been a few people who could make me stupid, but that’s always been the way with the fairer sex, now hasn’t it? A good number of people have come to me for advice over the years and most of them are still speaking to me, so I guess we can go with a win in the brains column.
My best man at my wedding surprised me by quoting something I’d said to him in conversation fully nine years earlier. What I’d said, what he quoted back to me that I had actually forgotten until he said it back was simply this: “All I need to be happy in the world is a roof over my head, enough food to eat and a woman who loves me as much as I love her.” By that assessment, I’ve been happy far more often than I’ve been sad. Sometimes it’s just a matter of perspective, I think. Sometimes it’s someone to share that perspective with who will listen and will understand.
I have often told people that I think we make our own luck. Certainly, we have to work for it. Now and then you get a good break. Now and then you get a spiral fracture instead. I don’t know that I can believe in luck as a major factor beyond that point. I have been lucky enough to meet some amazing people in my life. I been fortunate enough to have my fair share of successes. I have also had the misfortune to deal with disasters, too.
Then again, haven’t we all?
Is everything peachy in my world?
No. I can say it hasn't been since I found Bonnie's body. Maybe someday, but not just now.
But I can accept that.
At the end of the day there’s not much choice in that.
What? I should sit in bed and whine about it all day?
I guess maybe I’m just a little bit of an optimist after all. I guess in the long run my friend was more right than wrong on that one.
It is what it is.