Tag Archives: happiness

A Philosophy of Happiness

You don’t have to take my word for it, but I’ve been lonely enough in the past and happy enough in the present to say that someday, you’ll realize happiness is all about them, not you. That is, the only way to be happy or have a semblance of that feeling is to make everyone around you happy, or at least more positive about life than you. The ego is an empty shell, a dark cavern filled with stale air. Amusing ourselves with fanciful vacations, a cabinet full of DVDs, an altar of trophies and recognitions — the thrill fades after a while, once our brains develop enough neural networks and mature enough to realize we’re just setting ourselves up for a huge fall during the midlife crisis. The more exciting it is at the beginning, the more hollow it is in the end. Continue reading

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Some Kind of Freedom


Who cares what others think about how we think, how we speak? Why must we play along with this web of rules and standards they have set upon themselves? Why must we feel pressured for the correctness, righteousness or validity of what we have to say? Why must we tremble in our own bedrooms, afraid of their cold vengeance? Can’t we shout “We’re not part of it! I’m not part of it! I refuse to be defined by it!” Have we really been plugged into this monstrous machine of dreams and sleepwalking since the day our unknowing mothers set us free in this shackled world? Isn’t there a means for an uncontroversial escape? Is there a way to live without agreeing to the term “responsibility?” — therefore, without agreeing to any “term” at all?

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Yesterday, I saw two boys lying on the steps of a footbridge. They can’t be older than 7. They were fighting because the younger boy seemed to take up the space of the older one. All the while, we were passing before their sleeping space as hundreds of vehicles disturbed the dust on the paved roads underneath. Continue reading

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Lesson 1

The only thing you need to be happy is to be loved.
Not by an idea — or shelves of them
Or by a belief — or a set of them
Not by a lifestyle
And certainly not by a room full of thingamajigs
But by a person of flesh and blood — a piece of meat with a soul.
A person who can give you a tight, warm hug
And a long wet kiss, making you crumble to the ground, shaking
A person who shares your irrationalities
And a person who gets mad at your rationalities.

The only true smile comes from a loved face.
The only true joy comes from a loved heart. Continue reading

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Fantasy Genre

He got up from the chair and did some jumping jacks. The morning people stood up when he walked briskly in front of them and did the robot dance followed by a slick moonwalk. His boss, cussing, ran outside his office when he stood on his table and did a tapdance, then consequently screamed his name to the blank blue ceiling.

He ran as fast as he could toward the elevators, pounded the arrows until one of them broke and his palms were raw. The doors opened and he leapt inside to the shock of everyone. There’s a harrassed pretty girl inside and he winked at her saying, “Fuck yeah!”

Off to the other floor where he kicked the first monitor he saw and sent it crashing to the ground. He ruffled every hair with his excited hands. Someone tried to stop him but he turned around and bit his arm. Then he grabbed someone’s bag of chips and poured it into his mouth.

Before the guard could catch him, he escaped by pushing everyone aside, grabbed a colleague’s boob in the process shouting, “Good morning, woman!” A split second before he held the doorknob, he spat on the guard’s record book and slid down the hallway on his knees. His saliva blotted the record books’s cheap blue ink.

His feet went down the fire exit like two cars racing against each other. He tripped, fell down two staircases and busted his lip. Blood gushing out of his mouth, he discovered he left something behind. His yellow tooth was on the dirty cement as well as his troubles.

Behind him 10 people tried to catch up. He burst open the ground floor door and threw some coins at the scandalled receptionist’s head. Through the screams of terror and dread, he let out a joyous laugh, which led him to the door and to the street outside.

So he ran and he ran and he ran and he ran. He ran until he remembered he hasn’t drunk one drop of water since last night. He fell on his back, surprising pedestrians, looked up to the blue sky then wrote the name of his love in the air.

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