Home is where the heart is.

For me, that means Mesa Verde 107, and to a lesser extent, UCSD in general. I will be the first to say that this sounds cheesy, but I honestly can't even begin to imagine what my life would be like without the past almost-two years I've spent here. The people I've met, the friends I've made, the experiences I've lived through... I'm certain that they've all worked together to drastically change me from the naive person that walked onto this campus all those months ago. And today, when I came face to face with the possibility of almost losing this home of mine, I was seriously, seriously, scared. The funny thing is that I wasn't so much scared about what I would tell my parents, I was worried and scared about having to find another place to live (that's IF my parents would still let me stay at UCSD in the first place- doubtful) First of all, I'd be homeless. That's scary just to even think about. Second of all, I'd have to deal with the stress of finding a new place to live in the middle of the year, when everyone already has their living arrangements in perfect order for spring quarter. I doubt anyone would tolerate someone trying to throw a monkey wrench into their lives like that. And third of all, I'd miss my friends too much. I know I'd still see them all the time, and that it would only be for a quarter, but things would still change. Where would I go? I can imagine myself now: sitting in some room, living with God-knows-who doing God-knows-what. Studying? I pray it never comes down to that. And it makes me sad to think about it, but I could imagine a situation where I start to slowly drift away. I'd miss an inside joke here, a story there, and bam! I'd find myself out of the loop through no fault of anyone's except the mere fact that it'd be harder for me to be there for them. and maybe my fault for putting myself in that situation in the first place. I know I'm being overdramatic and taking an unlikely situation to the extreme, but it's still a sad situation to think about. 

Which is why I am ECSTATIC that my meeting with the Dean today went well. I mean, she's under the impression that I'm this hardcore, raging alcoholic and she's making me see a therapist for who knows how long, but I'd easily pick this over the alternative- "termination" of my housing contract. I know it wouldn't really be a big deal if I had to leave and that we only have a quarter left on campus, but I'm determined to make this quarter count. And I'm also happy that I get to stay on campus. I mean, what would I do without my friends? They're pretty much all I live for at school. 

And it's these friends I have made that make staying here so worthwhile. I don't think I'd give a flying fuck either way about what happened to me if it wasn't for them. And it makes me realize just how lucky I am to have made such good friends like the ones I have... the kind of friend who comes over to shoot the shit after class and convinces you that there's no reason to be self conscious about yourself (or the brazilian wax she talked you into getting)... the kind of friend who spends an hour teaching you how to play the piano and doesn't give up because of frustration or disgust or a combination of both... or even the kind of friend who you argue with ALL the time but know that you love them to death and wouldn't have it any other way. 

I didn't mean to have this be such a cheesy, "omg-i-love-my-friends" kind of thing. I didn't start out with the intention of writing about my friends, but I think inspiration hit me. That, and I don't remember what I had originally planned to talk about. I guess I'm just happy. Happy that I had a good day today. Happy that I get to stay on campus. and happy that I have a reason for making me want to stay. 

Don't worry. Be happy... Yeah. Easier said than done.

I wish it was simple to be a happy person. Or to even lead a happy life. I'm not referring to the kind of "happy" where the sun always shines, birds always sing and every single detail of your life falls into place perfectly. Sorry, Elle Woods. Not everyone can live their lives being legally blonde. No, I'm talking about the kind of person who, at the end of the day, has no regrets about their actions. The kind of person who doesn't have to wonder about how many people they hurt, or how many other people's dreams they had to step on to reach their own. Who feels certain that they did their best to live up to their own code of ethics and morals, regardless of which faith (if any) they follow, and doesn't feel that they compromised themselves for others. It should be easy, shouldn't it? To be a happy person. To enjoy life to it's fullest extent, the way it should be enjoyed... Then why does it seem like being happy is the hardest thing to be?

From the moment you enter this world kicking and screaming, society immediately lays down the rules it expects you to follow and the ideas it expects you to believe. And when you boil all these rules, expectations, and ideas down to their basest levels, what you're left staring at is society's definition for happiness. Money, cars, huge houses, hot sex, the hottest arm candy of the week... this is what society tells us will make us happy, will make our lives complete and perfect and fulfilling. But are these things really all they're cut out to be? Yes, I'll admit that they make your life easier and maybe even more enjoyable on occasion, but I can't admit that easier necessarily means happier. Couple the ongoing brainwashing you're exposed to from birth with the expectations that society, parents, friends, religion etc. constantly heap upon you, how the hell are you supposed to know what makes you happy? 

I think some people are lucky enough to find something or someone that helps them to make sense of the chaotic world that we find ourselves living in. Whether it's drawing, playing an instrument, writing poetry, finding yourself between the covers of a book, or even being in the company of the person you love, the feeling you get from that is the closest I think I can come to describing happiness. When you feel the most at home in your own skin, when all the exterior noise quiets down to that perfect silence where you experience emotions and feelings ten times as poignantly as you normally would, I think that's what completes you. But what if you never find that one thing that makes you feel complete? 

And if even if you are lucky enough to find something or other that does make you happy, regardless of whether it falls within the parameters society defines or not, to what extent do you have the right to pursue it? What if the only way you could truly be happy meant that someone else had to be unhappy? Who has the greater right? And what if being happy hurts the people you love around you? What's the greater sin: A life of happiness at the expense of those you care about or a miserable existence where everyone you love is enjoying life? 

I seem to find myself always asking the same questions, and never getting the answer I'm looking for. I'm starting to think that there is no such thing as true happiness... Just weary resignation. And a sad acceptance of an existence that sometimes doesn't seem worth going through all this shit for. 

Love.

Love. I know I use the word a lot (almost to the point where it becomes overbearing), and I'll admit I use it for people who I don't really feel the sentiment for. But for the people that do matter, I hope that they know I really do mean it. And that I'm not just throwing it out there for conformity's sake.