Be the Reason Someone Smiles

I apologize for not writing recently. I’ve been struggling with happiness, no less. Well, I should put some clarity on that: I’ve been confronting other emotional baggage that has affected my happiness. Stress, sleeplessness, and unhappiness have initiated a bitter battle of cause and effect.

 

Happiness Only Real When Shared

In Into the Wild, a movie based on Jon Krakauer’s book by the same title, Christopher McCandless concludes, “Happiness only real when shared.” McCandless set out on a wilderness expedition into Alaska, living off the land and carrying with him random objects to either help him survive or document his journey. His odyssey was one of self discovery and enlightenment, as, prior to departing for Alaska, he had given up traditional societal norms by donating his savings and destroying his identification documents, among others.

 

The American Dream: Happiness ‘n Stuff

We live in a society in which we’re judged based on our stuff. Your clothes. The finest jewelry. That extra inch on your big-screen TV, because 51 inches is just inadequate. The sweet ride parked in your garage, all blinged out, from hood ornament to rims. A sprawling house on a palatial estate. A summer cottage in the woods.

 

Happiness and the Sense of Home

If home isn’t where the heart is, it is where one’s sense of belonging exists. Granted, there are exceptions to not every rule but most. Some people, from the girl who resents her parents for forcing her small-town residence to the male who doesn’t get along with his father to the starving musician needing an escape to Hollywood, may hate their homes and will do everything in their power to get away.

 

The Unhappiness Rut

I feel as if I must explain. My previous post sent shockwaves across my audience, “Oooh, did you hear? Cory is depressed.” That’s not the case. I’m sure I suffer from a certain amount of depression — I won’t deny it — but this isn’t about a clinical diagnosis and how I can cure chronic sadness with a drug. Depression is a very real and serious mental illness, and I lack the academic authority on such a matter. Unhappiness and depression are not interchangeable terms and cannot be treated as synonymous (certainly, depression can be an element standing in the way of one’s search for happiness).

 

The Year in Review (and What’s Next)

A little more than a year has passed since I moved back home. And just under a year since I started this blog. Many have asked if I’m glad to have started writing again. Meanwhile, I continually berate myself, “Are you glad you chose to move back?”

 

Beer for Breakfast

Summer vacation in our household never equated to big trips. Going “out of state” meant, just ever-so slightly, crossing over the Wisconsin border into neighboring Illinois or Minnesota. My sister and I were robbed of Disney World and never experienced sand and surf until high school, that same trip being the first time we touched our toes in a body of water that wasn’t a murky, freshwater Wisconsin lake.

 

The Orange Hat

I don’t get to the cemetery as much as I’d like. I’m not proud of it, and I wish I made a more-conscious effort. I can make excuses that life is busy or I’m always tired, but the fact of the matter is that my dad’s body lies in the ground only 15 minutes away. Perhaps that will be a new goal of mine.

 

No More Hiding Under the Bed

I recently had an opportunity to reconnect with a friend from my college years. During one of our conversations, she explained the beauty in my ability to forgive my father, which got me thinking.

 

Smashed

I haven’t blogged in awhile. As much as writing is my joy and therapeutic outlet, it has a tendency to occasionally burn me out, spurring periodic breaks lest my passion also become a dull, monotonous chore. Taking a short leave of absence enabled me to catch up on my movie watching, particularly a new release titled Smashed.

 

Why I Drink

I drink, not to prove a point. But I occasionally get asked how it is that I can bear to drink alcohol considering all the pain and suffering it has brought to my life.

 

The Field of Dreams

In my youth, I was privileged to attend a parochial grade school. When adolescence reared its ugly head (let’s be honest, puberty was ugly), I was again blessed with an opportunity to receive a parochial education, this time for four years in high school. After high school, I continued the tradition of private schooling by applying, and promptly being accepted, to a small liberal-arts college, founded on Lutheran theology like the two schools before it.

 

Living in the Wake of Death

My dad had this running joke that no one would ever attend his funeral. It was mostly sarcasm, but within every sarcastic comment is a small morsel of truth. The truth in this situation is the unspoken reality that he had been coming up short his entire life and, therefore, making life difficult for those who loved him.

As luck would have it, something was stirring high in the atmosphere, setting in motion a snowstorm of events beyond our control. It would be a near showstopper, holding the Wisconsin highways hostage and making sure that my father’s joke came true.

 

When It All Came Crashing Down, Part III: Life in the Aftermath

In the days following a death, there is no time to grieve. An obituary needs writing. The casket needs selecting. Funeral preparations need making. And a host of other laundry-list items too many to count. For that reason, the reality of what had just occurred — death — hits everyone at different times and in different ways.

 

When It All Came Crashing Down, Part II

Being away at college, I had learned of my father’s passing when my family phoned with the alarming news. In the aftermath of that sobering call, I had so many questions. What had happened to my father? Was it accidental? Was he alone? And a hundred others.