In the grand design, happiness has a purpose. Yeah, much as I hate to break it to you, your "creator" has no interest in your self actualization. The only reason giddiness is in the recipe is to serve as the carrot on the stick. That's right- you the mule.
"Happy" exists to keep you on the treadmill. You get a better grade, you study harder. You get a raise, you stay later at the office. That pretty girl in algebra smiles at you, you start to bathe on a better schedule.
Now, I gotta' say, I get tired of being a fly in evolution's ointment. Eccentricity doesn't pay well and it won't get you into a pirate krewe! Just kidding- the job has the same prestige as hillbilly philosopher. Failed Lothario.
With too much caboose and little locomotive left, it doesn't really matter.
The fact is, I'm too happy. I never wasted much time struggling with the illusion that a gold record would make me whole. Oh, I always lusted for the unobtainable princess. For decades they seemed to have ended up in my arms. By the time they figured out the bounds of their misjudgment, I knew that it was never meant to be. Do I need to mention that I'm the end of my hereditary line?
As you know, I'm way too good at sad, too. That's another blog.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
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