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If You're Happy And You Know It, Clap Your Hands

Once upon a time, I enjoyed doing things for other people. People often ask me what makes me happy. I’m happy when other people are happy. This fact itself is quite interesting, because it raises two issues. First, other people’s happiness makes me happy. My being happy is directly related to how happy others are. So in one sense, my mood will depend on others around me. Second, I’m not really sure when I’m happy aside from when other people are happy. Which tells me two things: I can only be happy if other people are happy, and the degree of happiness also depends on them. Basically, whether I’m happy, and to what extent, is determined by other people.

This has good points and it has bad points. If I manage to keep in contact with generally positive people, I’ll generally be alright. But if I get into a rut, then it can be difficult to extract myself. Nonetheless, this scenario still does not get around the issue of self-sufficiency. And it begs the question, “what is happiness?”. The obvious starting point is to note that this is a very subjective question. People are different. So what makes people happy should, by and large, be different. Then you have the question of degrees of happiness. How much enjoyment does one need to derive to meet the happiness threshold? Again, this is a subjective test. And again emphasising the subjective nature of this exercise, it is more likely than not that one thing from which someone derives a huge amount of enjoyment from may only provide minor entertainment for another.

It would appear to me, therefore, that the term “happiness” is used as a catchphrase to capture all experiences and things that are “good”. The happiness I derive from eating a cookie differs from the happiness I might derive from, well, doing a good deed. I might be “sated” by eating a cookie. And I might feel “altruistic” for having done a good deed. And both could be considered as classes of happiness.

Therefore, maybe I do derive happiness from other aspects of life. However, due to the more minor nature of those aspects, or my ability to relabel them with a different adjective may lie at the heart of my original premise that I could only think of one thing that made me happy.

But, maybe I was right originally…

And now back to the start. Perhaps, if you know me well enough, you would have worked out that the above discussion on happiness was merely an entrée. The key to all this discussion, is, of course, the theme that once upon a time, “I enjoyed doing things for other people”. Emphasis on the past tense.

On Saturday, I attended a friend’s surprise birthday party. I spent the afternoon making a card and engraving a golden pen for her. I didn’t mind spending several hours thinking about how I would make the card, purchasing the materials, and then putting it together. Even though I’m used to thinking in 6 minute intervals, I didn’t mind. And I didn’t mind because I knew that she would really and truly appreciate it. And she did. So the moral of that story is that as long as I know someone will appreciate something I do, then I’m more than happy to do it.

The trouble then, of course, is that not everyone is as appreciative of things which you might feel they ought to be. Once you combine this factor with my earlier discussion of deriving my own personal happiness from that of others, then the very real opportunity that things might start breaking (or at least not function properly). At the bare minimum, you know there are going to be problems.

Now, my mother always told me that there was no such thing as a free lunch. And indeed there isn’t. Nothing in life is free. There’s always a price tag. Sometimes that might be a low price, and other times it might be a high price. I largely think you could get by on a reasonable price with me. I have enough friends that I can always find someone I haven’t caught up with for a while. I usually put a lot of effort into things, and it’s nice to at least have a little reciprocation. As is human nature, I will get frustrated when this doesn’t happen. After all, a friendship is something that you have to nurture. It’s not like a TV, which you switch on and off at your leisure. And so there will come a time when I think that I have wasted an investment; it’s time to cut my losses and wave goodbye. At the very least, the level of friendship will fall. In my opinion, that’s not a good idea. Usually my close friends are very close, and I like to make things happen for them. Like British Lions rugby tickets (which were sold out in 20 minutes), or U2 tickets (which were sold out in 10 minutes), or jobs, or lunch, or beer, or corporate box tickets, or movies, or music, or whatever tickles your fancy. Hell, I’m only 24. Give me a few more years and I’ll be able to work even more magic.

And so what I’m saying is that I seem to have knack for making things happen if I really want them to. I’ll know someone who knows someone who can help you out. Or get you something you need. Or get you where you want to go. You’d be silly to mess with the lion, especially a nice one, wouldn’t you think? And not only that, but I like people who think. I value friendship as much as the next person. What I don’t value are people who come along for the ride. And yes, those people stand out pretty easily. So what I am saying is that I’d rather focus the development on those friends now when I have relatively less, than in ten years time when more people will want to come to the party, and I’ll have more trouble working out the good guys from the bad guys. Stick with me for the ride, and I promise you it’ll be worth it.

Have we come full circle? Almost, yes. My discussion commenced with the notion that I enjoyed doing things for people. I don’t know if I do any more. For the most part, I’ve felt that these days I’m being taken advantage of. It’s not a nice feeling. It makes me sad, because it may mean that I change how I behave with close friends and people who deserve better. So a small few stuff things up for the majority. And here we come to the crux of tonight’s issue. What is the point of being nice, and/or making the effort? Why do this when no good ever seems to come from it (at this point I now move on from a generic comment to one directed at those who are not close friends). And so right now, I’m caught between wanting to be nice and thinking about just changing up my personality; who I am. And the latter is proving difficult, much more difficult than I am. I said to a close friend of mine the other day “I don’t know why I bother. Maybe I should stop being so nice and just turn into a nasty person instead – or at least, a person who just doesn’t care. Well, nasty is ver extreme - maybe more neutral. Sometimes I find that the act of doing something which I expect to make me happy to actually make me sad. And that is a sad thing, when you expect to be happy and then you are sad. And so now I am faced with the question of what to do – should I compromise who I am? I like to be nice; I really do just wonder why we bother sometimes.

They say what goes around comes around. All I can say to that is that it is a long time coming. They also say that good things take time. All I can say is that it must be something really good, because I'm fast giving up.

And so these days, for the most, I hear nothing but the sound of one hand clapping.

Ally him well, else thou disturbest a formidable lion that lies waiting beneath.

Not M

Epic III

Once upon a time, there was a guy I knew who had a thing for a girl he knew from uni back in first year. Anyway, they ended up going to a ball one night – he mostly because she was going. She turned up later, totally drunk, and spent the night making rude and abusive comments to everyone. Lovely, huh? Later, he checked in with her to make sure she was ok, kept an eye on her, got her a taxi home. That night he won a voucher to a girl’s boutique store, and a bottle of women’s perfume which he obviously couldn’t use – he had been pretty lucky in that sense that night. He gave them both to her, wishing her all the best, and thinking that the next day would be interesting. It certainly was, she never spoke to him again – ignored him totally forever after. It got him down for a long time, a really long time. Probably over a year. He never did work out why she acted that way after. I heard that this girl went on to work in an investment bank – she was a pretty smart cookie. He asked me about it once, in a moment of self-doubt. I told him I thought it was probably because she was so embarrassed by the whole night, her fault rather than his. He was a pretty nice guy, after all. I knew the girl as well, and when I thought about it later, she was a pretty horrible sort of person. Don't know what drew him to her in the first place. What a waste of over a year of someone’s life – dwelling on something that wasn’t his fault. Poor guy.

Epic II

‘Twas a time of youth and energy, unbound. Our young knight traveled far across water, for he bore the colours of his country upon his sleeve and its banner fluttering brightly in the breeze. And thar he sought all that was good and right in lessons to take back to his people, for he was their sole representative. He was zealous and enthusiastic, as I suppose all young man once were, and it was upon the city where the Treasury lies at the top, opposite a street of Eagles, majestically overlooking the river. And it was there that he chanced upon a young lady bearing not colours of a nation, for she did not hold that high office, but rather, those of a principality where operas are sung in shells, the bridge stretches into the horizon, and Olympians strive. But ‘twas not this initial chancing that led to more, for on the final night that all who had traveled far and wide were to feast and dance, the youth espied the young lady Midnight – for that was her phone and the colour of her hair – in a state of unwell. Thus he ventured forth, whereupon Midnight was carried outside to fresh air at her request. And the young lady, undoubtedly much to her embarrassment, proceeded to vomit repeatedly, before being carried up several flights of stairs by our youth, in seek of further female assistance. But ultimately, our fellow carried the young lady half way across the city for the banquet was held in a most desolate location, and it was well that Midnight was a slight girl, for had she been generously proportioned, the youth and his arms would have had much difficulty. And eventually the two were able to locate their quarters, whereupon Midnight was promptly dispatched to sleep. And it was determined that the young woman from the principality of operas sung in shells had received a most dastardly spiking in her drink, rendering her senseless and incapable of motion. Thus the authorities were sent for, whereupon the suspect was noted and registered against a national criminal database, for this most unsavoury character was thought to have engaged in similar behaviour in the few days prior. And our knave stood watch ‘til the sun rose in the dawn, ensuring that young Midnight would be packed and ready, at least, to mount her flying steed homeward bound. And thus done, the knight attended to his own belongings, mounted his own flying steed, and proudly bore his own colours home.

Our young knight was bemused and alarmed by this situation, for the administering of additional potions to alcohol was indeed worrisome. But he trusted that young Midnight would arrive safely, and be tended upon by those close to her in her principality, for this is what usually happens. And as his noble upbringing taught him, he made sure that she was recovering and well, and thus he thought the tale would end.

But it was not to be, as the two began to talk by way of telephonic device traversing the sea and sky and mountains. And messages were sent, and things were well. And soon, it was Midnight’s birthday. And the knave, being the artful and creative fellow that he was, proceeded to produce the most wonderful piece of art, where a dozen works of art featuring the young lady were carefully drafted and prepared, drawn, inked and coloured. And so, many weeks after he had commenced his project, the knave held 12 beautifully crafted pictures. And these he bound carefully into a folio, again carefully adorned with art and colour to be a true thing of beauty. The folio was tightly bound in a specialist and customised container whereupon it was dispatched to Midnight at haste.

The element of surprise was lost, however, with Midnight’s mother, who apparently had a habit of opening all of the household’s mail as I am told is as much a traditional or cultural part to her life. Thus an unexpected factor was introduced. And it transpired that while Midnight bore the colours of her principality, the expected senatorial colours (such as were borne by our prince and many of the others in attendance at the banquet and festivities) were in fact equestrian bordering on the other side, though this mattered not an iota to the prince. For his view on such matters was that those of the senatorials were much more difficult to please unless they had been normalised, such as he had been by virtue of his breeding.

The gift, which was to be described as the best gift ever received by the President of her principality, was stored away. And soon the messages would slow, the telephonic devices would ring less. And so the prince mounted his flying steed once again, setting forth yonder beyond the sea, to seek with his own eyes what the future held. And the knight knew of what skills he had, and would yet to acquire, for he had long been deemed a champion by those that knew him and those that knew him less so, for his apparent qualities shew that the future would welcome him with open arms as his ventured forth in whatever adventure he chose. And armed with this confidence and knowledge, the prince took upon himself to the serious contemplation of transferring principalities from that in which he was prince to that where he was unknown. But this decision was never made, for upon dismounting at his destination, all became clear in an instant, his sanity returned. And he thought that he had learned that equites with tendencies in the opposite direction should be avoided and those of the senate should stay together. For those others would not and did not understand what the future held and what he would one day wield. This was a lesson he thought he had learnt, but as we shall soon see, it is a mistake he had made in his past and one that he would make again, and again, and again in the future – each slightly different but again each based on this false premise as his hope and dreams battled those thoughts of his head.

And so our prince returned home, embarking on a journey that would one day take him to the pinnacle. And at that pinnacle, he would be known and envied and recognized, but by then it would be far too late.