Follow the Fortune Cookie

Day One: What Makes Me Happy

"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" 
The Prompt: What makes you happy?
The Music: "Sunny" ~ Bobby Hebb

         Happiness. There are several things that make me happy, but the list below are the things that first pop into my mind. Much of this is strange. I would be lying if it wasn't. The truth is rarely normal. (I convince myself of this every morning.) If any of this should be delusional, feel free to keep the delusion going for my sake. (Or burst my bubble if that makes you happy.)

The Obvious.

          My family.
         The members of my family are as crazy as they are numerous. Among all of my five brothers and three brothers, I have never known a true moment of peace. They are rowdy, impatient, demanding, and loud. They are the best people to go to the movies with as well as a night of hockey to yell at refs. We can argue over a bowl of popcorn and blatantly cheat at board games, yet still end the night on a good note. Add in parents, nieces, cousins, family friends, and grandparents, and you've got yourself one of the weirdest bunch of people to come together. They are the ones that know you the best, especially at your worst. It is why I love them - every complex, loving, vexing one of them.

          My friends.
         The few that I have been able to hold onto over years of moving are the true salt of the earth. They are the random acts that fill my life. I can depend on them for drunken texts, a good laugh walking the streets at three o'clock at night, essentialist conversations about Harry Porter over pizzas, and making fun of book titles in the middle of a bookstore right before closing.

          My guy.
         What can I say? He is one of the truest men I've been encountered in my life. He is my best friend. He is my partner-in-crime. He is the person who laughs with me the most, and listens when I don't make a lick of sense. When the nights of insomnia hit the hardest, I can call him and bother him to not end. I cannot imagine my life to the end of its days without him.

          Words.
         Both written and read. Give me a book, a blog, a movie, a television show, a song. Give me a play, a conversation, a quote, a poem, a speech, a declaration, a campfire. Give me any one of these, and I'll be a happy girl.

          A piece of dark chocolate.
         I would give over state secrets for chocolate. True story. (No, not really. At least, not yet.)


The Not-So Obvious.

          A walk in the rain.
         Nothing clears the mind faster than taking a walk in the rain. Now that I live in the Pacific Northwest, this happens more often. In fact, I did this the other day. Cleared my head right up. Gave me a cold, too, but the trade off isn't so bad.

          A good mystery.
         This cuts down on how much I yell at the television screen.

          A hockey game in my hometown.
         This increases how much I yell in the stands. Usually at the ref. Occasionally, at the drunk woman behind me, who feels the need to kick the back of my seat because I remind her of the girl who pestered her throughout junior high. True story.

          An unexpected laugh.
         Both joyful, and if I should accidentally snort, embarrassing.

          A piece of music that moves me to weeping.
         I blame Yo-Yo Ma for this. My mother blames our Irish-ness. Go figure.

          A night game of baseball.
         There is a moment when you stand in the outfield, between the smell of freshly cut grass and the sun slowing fades in the horizon, that I could take on the world. It ended up that my team would usually lose the game, but for that moment, I would collectively join the delusion of my fellow players that maybe, just maybe we could beat the inevitable loss.

          Crossing something off a list.
         I feel like Monica from "Friends" with the checks on a list. There is something immensely satisfying about drawing a large line through something I've completed.


The Completely Oblivious to Anyone but Me.

         I'm kind of a twisted person. I hate being underestimated because of my age/sex/race/stature/etc... However, I am filled with a perverse sense of joy when I can prove a person who feels I will never amount to anything wrong. Apologies are can come in a pack a dozen, and have lost great deal of value over the years. It is the expression their face and the tone in their voice when they realize I've shattered whatever concept they have of me in their minds. It thrills me to no end.

For your viewing and listening pleasure.