Go with the Flow(chart)

Three things

"To me, there are three things we all should do every day. We should do this every day of our lives.

Number one is laugh. You should laugh every day. 
Number two is think. You should spend some time in thought.
And number three is you should have your emotions moved to tears, could be happiness or joy.

But think about it. If you laugh, you think and you cry, that's a full day. That's a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week, you're going to have something special."

~Jim Valvano

Food Poisoning, Nothing Makes Me Happier

Remember how I said I had a bout of inspiration at the job fair?

Well, I also had a bout of stupidity.

Thursday night Ryan and I had gone to Subway to take advantage of FebruARY at Subway. I got a foot-long tuna sandwich. Thursday night, I only ate half of it and kept the rest of it for lunch on Friday. Brilliant, right? Saving myself from spending more money on buying lunch.

Only problem was that I kind of forgot about the whole fact that my 6-inch tuna sub was going to be sitting in the sun for three hours while I was in the career fair.

And yet... I still ate it. And despite having a case of mild heartburn earlier in the day, I was feeling bold enough to eat hot wings for dinner Friday night.

Enter: bout of stupidity.

And one full night of miserable food poisoning hell.

After a weekend where I sounded more like a dinosaur in pain than a human being, it's hard to find something to be happy about.

But, I have to say this weekend made me truly thankful to have Ryan in my life. He put up with my crying, moaning, more crying, and the velociraptor mating sounds that came out of my mouth during each session in the bathroom. He even walked out on a Team America movie session to take me home -- which proves his love right there. He fed me, tucked me in, wiped away my tears, rubbed my back, pulled over on the side of the road, fixed my shoes, brought me medicine, and made me feel beautiful even when I looked and felt like a hot mess.

For that, I am truly thankful -- for nobody makes me happier.

Hunchback of San Diego

Pretend this post is from Friday.

Now wait, I take that back. This IS Friday, you're just pretending that it's not.

Good, now that we've gotten that cleared up.

Friday:

I finally got my career counselor butt in gear and visited my first career fair in San Diego. I call it a bout of inspiration and a renewed passion in my job, but after after my blog from tomorrow, you'll probably call it a bout of stupidity. But that's a whole other story...

Anyways, I left home bright and early and made my way out to Poway for the Congressman's Job and Resource Fair. (Note: I never saw a Congressman and this Congressman-hosted Congressman event. Congressman.) Despite not needing a job, I was dressed to impress, as the flyer suggested I should be. For anybody who knows me, they know I'm not a skirt or heels kind of gal. And yet, I was wearing both. And, I was wearing panty hose. Like I said, dressed to impress.

There wasn't much traffic on the way there and it was a pretty peaceful drive.

So I wasn't prepared for what I saw pulling into the parking lot. Cars. And lots of them. Okay, yes smartass, I was prepared to see cars in the parking lot. But I was not prepared to see how many cars there were in the parking lot. Cars along the street. Cars parking in the red zone.

Then my eyes drifted to the line that had congregated out front. I felt like I was jumping into the line for Space Mountain. In heels. I couldn't believe just how many people were there for this job fair. Thousands, easily.

In the end, the line went faster than I expected and I was able to get in the doors.

So I walked up to table after table. Of course, the conversation always started the same way, "Hi! What's your name? What kind of job are you looking for?" (Imagine someone saying that in an incredibly fake, I'll-never-talk-to-you-again kind of voice.)

I can't imagine being a person there looking for a job when none of those hiring managers could pick you out of a police line-up in an hour.

But when I introduced myself -- told them that I was not there to find a job -- and described what I do and what the YWCA does, the glazed-over expression faded from their eyes. I was able to have some good conversations with some companies who sounded like they wanted to help the residents at the YWCA. Many of them told me to give them a call when one of YWCA clients applied to a job with their company.

In the end, I was able to make what I hope are some really great connections with hiring managers at Home Depot, Lowes, SeaWorld, the Zoo, and Hilton. But only time will tell.

While this alone was a rewarding feeling (I hope, if it all comes out to play), there was one feeling I felt above all else: grateful.

Grateful I had a job. Grateful I wasn't there among the throngs of people, desperate for any kind of employment. Grateful I wasn't just a number.

Anyways, it was a successful outing and I left the fair feeling complete.

Almost.

Everybody knows those awesome kitchy giveaways at job fairs. The keychains. The pens. The multi-colored highlighters. Well, as I was in the parking lot, making my long trek back to my car, I remembered the kitchy handout I really wanted from the job fair. A bag clip. Yep, the one thing I could not bear to leave without was a bag clip -- a plastic contraption that keeps your Doritos crunchy and delicious. Talk about greed.

I made a 180 and walked straight back into the fair, making a bee-line for the table with the chip clips. I nabbed one off the table and ducked my head, doing one last round to pick up the swag before heading home.

As I had made up my mind that I was too greedy for my own good and should get the hell out of here, I was startled by someone grabbing my arm.

It was an older woman who was standing in line to talk to someone at a booth. She had grabbed my shoulder.

She looked at me and said, "Oh, honey. You need to have more confidence than that. Stand up straighter and put your shoulders back. I saw you walking around earlier and I just knew. Look, you're never going to make an impression when you don't have the confidence in yourself."

She thought I was looking for a job. Of course she did, we were at a job fair. Wasn't everyone.

Should I tell her I didn't need a job? No, that seems like a bad idea. No. Just agree.


So I just smiled at her and said with as much graciousness as I could muster, "Thank you so much for the guidance."

And then I turned and walked away, trying to get to the door as soon as possible. But not before one last blast of humiliation. Another woman, who had obviously just heard the exchange between me and this other woman gave me a pitying look and said, "Oh yeah! And I like your glasses!!!"

And that's how I became the Hunchback of San Diego. In heels. And a skirt. And glasses.

But thank god I have a job.

How I Re-Met My Mother

It is safe to say as a twenty-something, I don't make much money. Add the fact that I work for a non-profit and live in San Diego -- it's safe to say that I'm piss poor.

One of the upsides of being poor is the absence of television. Last year as a Jesuit Volunteer (cough, Phoenix blog, cough), we didn't get many channels on our converter box, although we spent a considerable amount of time becoming addicted to trashy dramas like Without a Trace and Criminal Minds on Ion television. Positively entertaining.

This year, our pickings are even slimmer. Ryan and I attempted to hook up the television to the wall jack, but we managed to only pick-up channels in Espanol. 

Thank lord for streaming Netflix. Since moving to San Diego, Ryan and I have conquered Arrested Development and 30 Rock. Our latest obsession is How I Met Your Mother. I highly recommend it, if you have the means. Despite it being a clear rip-off of Friends, it's a clever show.

We've crushed 5 seasons of HIMYM and we're well into Season 6. Last night we watched an episode called "Last Words" that aired in January 2011.

For the most part, HIMYM is a light-hearted -- and rather raunchy -- comedy.

"Last Words" was the first episode that's touched on a dramatic topic. In the episode, the father of Marshall, one of the main characters, suddenly passes away from a heart attack. This alone makes for an emotional episode, but as part of the father's funeral, the family decides they want to all contribute to his eulogy by describing the last words their father shared with them individually.

Every family member has a profound, tear-jerking story. Marshall's father taught one of his grandkids how to ice skate. Marshall's father told his wife that he loved her and thought she was beautiful.

And poor Marshall is left with his dad's last words of, "Marshall, watch Crocodile Dundee 3" and a mysterious voicemail that Marshall is too nervous to listen to.

Without giving away the ending, I have to say that it was a touching episode that quite literally makes you think of the last words you exchanged with everyone you love.

As I sat there thinking of my parents, family and close friends, I was sad to realize that I couldn't remember my last words to any of them. It wasn't that my words were a disappointment -- instead, it was a disappointment that they didn't stand out, that I couldn't remember.

So... I realize that this is a Happiness Blog, so I can't sit here and cry over a sappy HIMYM episode. So I'll end it at this. At the end of the episode, it was too late in the night to call everyone I needed to. So my family (including my mother) woke up to "I love you" texts.

Yes, I realize that it's lame and more than a little cheesy. But, hey, life is really short. Let your loved ones know what you mean to them. Happiness is nothing without having anyone to share it with. And I'm incredibly thankful to have so many people who not only make me happy, but who share in my happiness.

And to you, dear Readers, I leave you with these last words, compliments of Marshall.

"I really, really, really love you guys. I'm going to go drop a deuce."

Happy Days

Blogs are a place to confess. So it seems only fitting that I should start this blog out with one. Alright, I confess -- this blog was meant to be my New Year's Resolution. Of course, like every other resolution made December 31, it never came to fruition. And, of course, like every other resolution, it nagged at me in the back of my mind. Here it is, February 22nd, and I'm finally launching my 2012 Self Betterment Campaign.


"Why now," you ask?


Good question, I'm glad you asked. When this blog didn't launch on January 1st, I did what any self-respecting Catholic would do. I waited until the start of Lent. That's right, Lent -- that glorious time of year when Christians decide we want to do just a little bit better -- but only for 40 days, before we return to our regularly scheduled programming of pigging out on chocolate, candy, soda, etc. Except, if everything goes according to plan and the world doesn't explode in December like the Mayans predict, this blog will be active long past those 40 days. One year is the target date -- with one post per day (unlike my Phoenix blog, which like everything else in the desert, died painfully).

In other words, February 22, 2013, I'm coming for you.

This blog also stands out from my other previous failed attempts because it has a definitive goal: I'm finding my own happiness. Hence the title of this blog and these handsome chaps below.

That's right, my goal this year is to discover the shortcut to happiness, even if that shortcut takes me all year to find. I'm making my own 366 "happy days."

I know what you're saying, "Britt, you're a pretty happy person. Why are you looking for happiness?"

Again, good question, I'm glad you asked.

I agree, I am a pretty happy person overall and believe I get joy out of life. However, more often than not, I find myself dwelling on the things that cause me pain, anger or frustration, instead of the aspects of my life that make me happy. I know this is the human tendency, but part of me wonders if there's a way to change that.

More than anything, I'm searching for the answer to that age-old question of "What Truly Makes Me Happy?" For me, that's finding some direction in this crazy thing called life.

As some of you might know, I work for the YWCA, which provides housing, counseling and job services to homeless families and women in San Diego. As the Career Counselor, I help our clients work on resumes, cover letters, interviews and their job search so they can reach the goal of ultimately becoming employed and self-sufficient so they can leave the shelter environment.

When a new client comes in for their first meeting with me, she is desperate. She doesn't care what job she finds. She wants a job, any job -- which is how our clients wind up working in the crappiest of crappy jobs. Reamed out a telemarketer lately? Yeah, our ladies are on the receiving end of your rants. Needless to say, these aren't jobs our ladies can keep for very long.

To get our ladies out of this "any job" mentality, one of the first questions I ask a new client is "What is it you really want to do because it makes you happy? What is your dream job?"

When they give me the "any job" response, I follow up with another question. "If you went to bed tonight and magically woke up tomorrow fully clothed and styled to walk into your dream job, what kind of business would you walk through the doors of?"

This is a question most of our ladies have never been asked before, and it takes them a moment to really consider what their dream job is. But usually they come up with something that is anything but "any job." One lady wants to be a baker, one lady wants to work with underprivileged teens as a mentor, one lady wants to work in a chemistry lab.

I'll be honest, the responses are profound.

The goal is for them to consider what jobs would make them want to get out of bed in the morning, or to get them to think of their ultimate career goal. That way, we can work on getting them a position that aims them in the right direction, even if it's only just a stepping stone towards their dream.

Yet, in the back of my mind, I know I'm a hypocrite. I ask my ladies this question, expecting them to pour out their life hopes and dreams. At the same time, I know I could not answer this question myself. What doors would I walk through? I have absolutely no idea.

I know there are things that bring me joy. I enjoy working at non-profits and helping people that have been written off by everyone else. I enjoy writing. I wouldn't be writing this blog if I didn't. In fact, I always saw myself becoming a reporter. But the thing is, I'm not sure that I want to be a reporter anymore. Journalism is a cut-throat industry, especially these days. That's just not me.

So here I am, asking myself the question. "What is it you really want to do because it makes you happy?"

Through my upcoming blog posts, I'm hoping to find the answer. Even if I can't, I'm hoping that I can at least reflect upon the aspects of my life that bring me happiness and job. Maybe I'll even find a new passion by trying out new activities. Maybe I'll find a new favorite food joint by stumbling into a restaurant.

Reader: I'm hoping you get something out of this blog too. Maybe it's reminding yourself that your job isn't all that bad, even when you come home complaining about that 2-hour staff meeting. Maybe it's recommending a new place to eat or a random/weird activity you heard about and are too freaked out to try yourself, so you recommend it to me to try first and review it. Maybe it's just enjoying the ramblings of a lost twenty-something year old.

The possibilities are really endless and I'm not really sure what kind of form this blog is going to take, but I'm hoping each day serves as a stepping stone of my own, guiding me towards the shortcut to happiness.