Things that make noises they shouldn't:

1. Our sighing coffee pot

I am not kidding. You fill it up and flip the switch and it begins: "Hmmm. Ho hum. Siiigh." Poor little coffee pot, you have such a hard life.

2. The squealing humidifier

Turn this baby on for a little white noise at night and you'll be treated to, "SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" for however long it feels necessary. Decibel levels do vary, just to keep you on your toes.

3. Starbuck's take-away coffee cups

Get down to those last few drops of coffee and try to suck out the extra frothy milk and your cup will surely protest. As if to say, "Oh god, please tell me you're finished! It's just foam, for heaven's sake!" the little cup let's out this reserved little cry.

4. My favorite "Camelbak" water bottle

I love my water bottle. It has a nifty little feature that keeps water from coming out unless you twist it to "open" and then squeeze or suck it. So if you put it in your bag without "closing" it, it still won't get all over everything. Or, if you're running, it won't slosh everywhere but still allows you to get a quick drink. This lovely bottle, however, has a habit of clicking once you've taken your sip. This is my preferred bedside companion since I'm known to knock over water glasses whilst groping for them sleepily in the middle of the night; but the damn thing freaks me out all the time because it delays it's clicking until you're just falling asleep. Stupid bottle.

5. My coworker's shoe

I never have to guess it's her coming down the hall. Her shoe (I'm not sure whether it's the left or the right one) poofs out air rather noisily with each step. It's a shame because this is a woman who is always very posh and stylish. Unfortunately the stately effect is ruined a bit with her poofing shoe.

What can I say, it's been an incredibly slow Friday :-)

How Satisfied Are You?

"You've got to stop telling people how much you hate your job," Rachel told me as we were preparing to go our separate ways after lunching by the fountain.

"I don't ever say it to anyone at the office, Rachel. For them, even when they prompt me with a, 'I don't know how you do it,' or a 'You must be so bored out there,' I simply smile and say that while, yes, I get a tad bored, I'm paying my dues and I get to read lots of books. I'll be busy soon enough."

"Ah. I guess that's why I hear about it so much, then."

I smiled. "I think D wants to shake me at this point."

"At least you have people to remind you that you need to find something you like about it," Rachel smiled back.

"I get to read lots of books," I replied, which is true and can be quite enjoyable...when the books is good.

We made our lunch plans for the next day and set off in opposite directions; her back to the museum basement, me back up to my desk with a view from the 27th floor.

She's right, of course. I do need to keep looking for the positive with this job. Otherwise I'll be consumed by my own bad attitude and absolutely no one will want to be around me. I'd prefer to be a positive person, but my upbringing has conditioned me to always look for the negative.

I took an optimism test recently where if your score was between 12 and 25 you were considered optimistic; though at a 25 you were damn near hysterical. D took it too. I asked his score but he wanted to know mine before he'd tell me. I can't say as I was surprised. Before we got together he asked me one question that has always stuck with me, "Do you consider yourself an optimist?"

The truth is, I am. I'm just very good at coming off as Eeyore. Most of the time the negative things I point out, or my tendency to phrase things in a more negative manner, is for the irony of it all. It's my way of joking; "biting sarcasm" I suppose. But the reality is that I've never doubted that good things will happen for me. I expect to get into law school, do quite well, land a job and make a better than decent living. I expect to get married to a man I love. I expect to have friends. I expect to enjoy myself. I'm also a bit anal retentive and thus will over plan for possible tragedies or negative outcomes and I think that sometimes takes over and I start to worry (ok, I don't think that happens, I know it happens).

I told D I scored a 20. He scoffed and told me he expected it to be a 13 or something. He scored a 22. No surprise there. He's the happiest person I know. He tells jokes and giggles in his sleep, for crying out loud!

All of this leads me to my attempt to be happy with my here and now. Or maybe not happy, but satisfied. Striving for happiness seems counterproductive. I want satisfaction. Satisfaction is something you actually can work towards. I think that you know what will be satisfying at particular moments. Sometimes it's as simple as that ice cream cone you've been craving all week; or watching your favorite TV show on Wednesday nights; coming home and getting your long awaited hug; snuggling up under your covers and sleeping in; going for a walk on a beautiful day; getting the bathroom clean and the dishes put away. Yes, satisfaction is worth striving for because often with satisfaction comes happiness. But striving for happiness is futile, in my opinion. The more you try to be happy the more frustrated you'll be when you think that maybe you aren't (because happiness is completely subjective and often even the individual will not know whether s/he is truly "happy").

I feel satisfied at work when I've helped someone out. It could be by setting up the conference room they need ASAP, opening client/matters, picking up a dropped pen, anything really. I feel satisfied when I have a good book with me (this is more difficult to come by than you may think. There's a lot of books that do not captivate and can become a chore to read for 8 hours a day). Yes, my job is not ideal but I know this is not my career and it is certainly not my life. I think it's important to take the time to remember that everyday, especially when you have people yelling at you from all directions... :-)

Moody

It started with a "late" night (11:30pm arrival home on a Tuesday constitutes late in my world) at Cirque du Soleil with my girlfriends. The show was fun and all of us were glad we'd been able to work it into our schedules. We'd had dinner beforehand and I was happy to just have gotten a little bit of time in with the two of them (B is moving in a matter of weeks and I'm afraid I'll cease to function properly).

The show ended and Maria (a martyr when it comes to the "who's driving this time" game) set us on our way. "Philadelphia is a pretty city," B said as we cruised down 16th toward Center City. I had to agree. I like Philly quite a bit. It's the perfect size; easily walkable but with lots of neighborhoods, hidden gems, great restaurants (where you don't need to call a month in advance for a reservation...except maybe Le Bec Fin), lots of parks, and beautiful old buildings (and some pretty neat new ones). Even though I grew up here, went to school here, hope to attend law school here, and work here, I have no desire to leave. I can picture myself using Philly as my home base for a long time.

I felt happy about the evening I'd just had as I drove home from B and Mo's house, thankfully not hitting all my usual traffic lights. It was a little after 11:30pm when I wandered up to my room, took off my make-up, brushed my teeth and turned out my light as I got into bed. Too bad I was wide awake. I closed my eyes and thought happy thoughts; I got into my most comfortable position and started "clearing my mind and paying close attention to my breath" (the method recommended by yogis everywhere). Nothing was working. I peaked at the clock: 12:04am. Damn. I'd already made up my mind not to get to up to jog the next day, but that still only left me with a little over 6 hours to sleep.

Eventually I did fall asleep and I cursed my alarm as it softly lulled me awake (after I'd naturally woken up at 5:30 and cursed my incredibly accurate internal rhythms). I rolled out of bed, showered, dressed and headed downstairs. The tea kettle was already on and softly whistling. "I figured you'd be tired so I put the kettle on for your tea," my mom said as I looked at the kettle. Instead of expressing how grateful I was in an appropriate manner I grunted at her and brooded through breakfast.

By the time I got to work I knew that everything and everyone was going to piss me off. And lo and behold, they did! My bank/credit card company pissed me off; my coworkers pissed me off; anyone who called pissed me off; simply being pissed me off. After a little reviving lunch-time walk during which Rachel and I both expressed our sadness over no longer being in school, I had an idea. I started to wonder if anyone had ever studied the effects of acute sleep deprivation on mood. Calling back my psychological research skills I logged onto Temple's library's site and started looking.

There was only one article that matched exactly what I was looking for and I couldn't find the full text. Fortunately the abstract let me know what I was wondering: even just a few hours of lost sleep with depress one's affect the following day. It is exacerbated if the individual is stressed/anxious (which I am). Bingo. Not getting enough sleep had made me a complete sour-puss and I was glad I wasn't seeing anyone I liked that day. Interestingly, I found three other articles that piqued my interest: one on the effect of face-to-pillow contact on mood (this is the one I'm most excited about reading. The abstract says that if you sleep in a position where you have maximum facial exposure to the pillow--i.e. on your stomach or side--you tend to be in a worse mood than the person who has minimal facial exposure to the pillow--i.e. the back sleeper), the second article was about mothers who share a bed with their baby and mood (mother's who share beds with their babies tend to have worse moods than those who sleep separately), and the third was about the effect of bringing home work (or working late) on one's relationship.

If I didn't fully know it before this exercise confirmed it: I am definitely a nerd. Researching psychology articles lifted my mood the way nothing else seemed able to. Now I'm even more impatient to get back to school (and try to sleep more on my back and make sure I get enough sleep at night and not bring home work. The sleep on the back thing is going to be hard...)!

A Happy Moment

"What are you doing?"

"Petting the rabbits," I said, stroking the three rabbit furs on the footstool at the end of the bed.

"That's a great look. I think you should stay like that for a minute."

I complied, happily, lazily petting the furs, looking at each one. My favorite was the white one with the black spots. It was softer than the others and the white was brilliant. I watched him walk over and slide onto the bed next to me, brushing light kisses against my skin. I don't think I've ever felt so happy.