James vs Happiness Nazis

Happiness Nazis.  I am sure that you know one or two.  As soon as you dare consider dribbling out a tiny bit of dissatisfaction about your life, they are onto you telling you what percentage of the world’s population do not have clean drinking water.

Wonderful.  So now I have a guilt trip on top of being miserable.

The thing is though.  I want to be a Happiness Nazi.  Or at least share the Happiness Nazi’s constant joy of life.  The guarantee that every day will be a happy, sunshine-filled day of smiles and joy.

How do they do it?

There isn’t a clear pattern.  Some seem to have found spiritual salvation in religion.  Others love every day of their job.  Some are married or in strong relationships.  Others are just good at hiding their bad moods.  I clearly don’t qualify for any of these.

Or they have babies.  Fuck that.  Practice would be nice though.

I don’t want to get rid of such emotions as anger and frustration, as they are fairly easy to channel into positive reactions.  But I wish I could have an instant miserable off-switch.

Thankfully it doesn’t happen very often, maybe once every 2-3 months, lasts a couple of days and then it is all life is sunshine again.  Or at least sunshine with fair weather cloud.  Though I am hating the sunshine being in this hot office.  That really doesn’t help my mood.

There isn’t a single reason why I have woken up unhappy.  Nothing has changed.  There is no rational reason why I was happy last week, but not this week.  I know, totally irrational.  Stick your swastika smiley up your arse.

I do need a rest.  I spend all week working, with 2.5 hours travelling every day, then the weekend arrives and I spend most of it studying.  Not quite sure if going to Ibiza in 2 weeks qualifies as rest.  And as soon as I get back I will be house-hunting and then in August moving house.  Oh joy.  At least last time I moved house I didn’t fuck up so maybe I have worked out how to do it now.

But like there isn’t a particular reason for being miserable, there isn’t a particular fix.  Does Michael Gove mind sentences that start with the word “but”?

Tomorrow I will write a this-is-why-i-am-happy-again blog post.  Probably.

It will be filled with pictures of gravy and beer.  And maybe some tits.

I do have a plan for tonight.  It doesn’t involve studying.  Or cleaning my room, or ironing or any other inane bullshit.  Actually most of the plan is bullshit but it’s my kind of bullshit.

For now dear Happiness Nazis – Fuck off and let me be a miserable bastard.

And if that fails, I get paid on Friday so I will go buy some ecstacy and a hooker.

Or maybe some holiday clothes.

By the way, if I ever shave off my mullet, I am considering growing a Hitler tash to replace it.

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