Elusive happiness

"Happiness is not in our circumstance but in ourselves. It is not
something we see, like a rainbow, or feel, like the heat of a fire.
Happiness is something we are." ~John B. Sheerin

I think I'm normally a fairly happy, sunny person (if that can co-exist with cynicism and intelligence). But lately I've been miserable trying to figure out what will make me happy. And since I happen to know I'm not alone, maybe this will be applicable to some of you out there in cyberland as well.

I've not been able to make a large decision to save my life. My lease is up, I need a job, and I can't seem to picture ANY future that will please me. Never had this predicament before.

Cripes, I don't know. I just need to scale back, figure out a way to make my rent $800 a month without being a live-in prostitute,, find a crap job that pays the bills but doesn't suck so much of my soul that I can't write at night. And then if someone could just arrange a time-spatial anomaly for me so that I could blink and already be sorted and moved, that would be fabulous.

I know I thrive in 85 degree weather, and love living in a complex with an underused pool and a designated parking space. AND NO CRYING BABIES OR SMOKERS UNLESS THEY WANT TO DIE BY MY HAND. Being nearish the water is great, but I much prefer the San Diego bay to the LA beaches inhabited with prancing tourists and local yokels who think there are audition cameras hidden in every palm tree. Yuck.

I picked up some rental and job newspapers while in San Diego last week. Spent some time chatting with a hunky waiter who moved down from LA and bought his own condo and thought I'd be a great match for SD. Hmmmmm. I don't know, it just feels more me. More casual, Nocal vibe. Focused on the right things. Calm. Less materialistic and full of itself. But enough going on that it's not a two-star town.

Not sure if it has any irony (Charlie says I need to always live in a city with irony). But if a city is dripping with sincerity, does it need irony?

The other nice thing is, it's a small enough town that I become a hot babe again. In LA I'm ignored for the next model/actress nineteen-year-old getting off the bus, but in San Diego I get admired and asked out. A lot, judging by the last two trips this spring. Which is really important to me because Partnership is one of my values, and I've got to focus on that in my life.

Don't know if I can respect, support, believe in a man who's in LA to get rich and famous. Makes my stomach turn. I want to be with a good man who has values and focus and morals and gives back to his community and lives with small footprints. And is a nightowl who wants to knock boots two or three times a day. Hard to come by in LA.

Oh, and regarding San Diego men and their willingness to date a woman from LA? Not one of them blinked. Totally volunteered that they're in LA all the time, and assumed I'd have no problem coming down to see them (I don't. I freaking love driving that amount...find it incredibly meditative and empowering). Thought, as I do, that 120 miles was no big impediment to love.

Color me totally unimpressed by Jeremy. What a lousy excuse not to be in a spectacular relationship with me having awesome sex. More and more, I'm agreeing with Charles that he was a wuss. Time to start paying attention to what my menfolk think, and they didn't like him. Guess I need to hear why. Gee, I don't know, was it fucking and dumping me the next morning with no warning and not returning my phone calls? Yeah. He was a prince. Oh Willoughby!