Laughter Is Life

Four months without a single post. Oops. Well, I'm writing now, so that's what counts, right?

My life isn't very exciting right now. I work 40 hours a week. I'm doing a sprint triathlon September 7th, so I either get up insanely early to workout, or I get up less insanely early and workout after work. Of course somewhere in there I have to eat, clean, play with my nieces. Oh yeah, and I've been told doctors recommend about 8 hours of sleep a night. Hmmm... and since I'm car-less, I walk or bike most places. Does anyone else think there aren't quite enough hours in the day? I sure do. Gracious me, if there were even two extra hours..!! I could do everything, be everywhere.

I would be superwoman.

Well maybe not. I enjoy watching my TV shows too much. If probably waste those extra hours watching just one more episode of Ugly Betty. Maybe it's a good thing there are only 24 hours a day.

I recently spent 9 days on the Westside. It was delightful. Saw people I haven't seen in a couple years, saw my dog, went to the Seattle Aquarium (I never went in the three years I lived there...), rode the new-ish Ferris wheel on the boardwalk (I'm not a fan of heights, so that was an interesting ride), wandered around pike place market, and drove a stick shift car up some of Seattle's fun hills (by fun I mean I was terrified I was going to roll all the way back down the hill before the clutch engaged. Pullman hills in no way compare to Seattle hills, for the record). Many things went wrong with the trip. Rides bailed, people were working when I was free, train tickets require you to sell a kidney to buy, I realized I have a pathetic amount of willpower when it comes to working out on vacation, and I drove through the majority of Seattle rush hour traffic. That's just a few of the straws on the camel's back.

But the best part of the trip? I realized something about myself. Halfway through the trip I decided that everything falling apart was kind of...hilarious. I mean really, very few things about the trip happened at all how it was originally planned. I was very frustrated for the first half, but finally I made the realization that I had two choices: be frustrated and cry, or enjoy the comedy that my life had become. As I detest crying, I obviously chose the latter option.

The point of that ramble is that I find myself faced with that choice a lot. Laugh or cry. Laugh or yell. Laugh or hide in shame. And 97% of the time, I choose to laugh. You live longer (scientific fact!), you feel less awkward, and life always looks brighter. I think God blessed me with the gift of laughter, I mean, face it, I laugh a lot. Laughing is fun. And sometimes people laugh with me, and sometimes they laugh at me, but either way I'm prolonging their life, so that's a good thing, right? Oops, I'm rambling again. My point is I think that happiness and contentment in life is, at least in part, a choice. You can't control the weather, the overtime you have to work, your relationship status, your friends, your family, your car breaking, etc etc. What you can control is how you react to it. Laughter won't solve all your problems, but I firmly believe it will help you deal with them.