I remember when I first moved to Atlanta I spent many weekends in complete anonymity. I didn’t really know many people and I would drink coffee and read magazines and watch people like they couldn’t see me. I would go to bars alone and drink, or go to the mall occasionally and just walk through it, never buying anything.
I am a nostalgic person and so those days seem peaceful to me now. I guess they were in a lonely sort of way. Of course those were also the days of 60 hour work weeks, which I positively hated.
I don’t think I am able to accurately judge how happy I was in the past. That book I just read (Stumbling on Happiness) says none of us are. I have such fond memories of travel, and alot of times it was the best thing ever for sure….but I guess the best times were actually living abroad doing something.
The physical act of traveling was so often not “happy”. It involved waiting, and being hot (or cold) and uncomfortable. It involved the stress of never knowing where you are and what you’re about to get into. When things went bad there was little comfort as you were by yourself and doing it all voluntarily. Did I mention it involved alot of waiting and/or sitting on moving vehicles/boat/planes/whatever.
I just guess I am really nostalgic. So the point, if there is one, is that I did “stuff” all weekend and never really sat down for a minute alone with my thoughts….except for right now for an hour before bed.
One hour. That ain’t shit….not that being alone with your thoughts is all its cracked up to be.
I should’ve ironed clothes or played video games….then I could’ve avoided the sad nostalgic reflection altogether.
I think I’ll go get a beer and remind myself that we are all incapable of comparing our present happiness with the past.
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