Susie is no good at the important things

I've realised over the last little while just how bad I am at being a person. People talk about being a good person, and so many people try. But I think before I start trying to be a good person, I should try and sort out some of the basics, that it seems like everyone is able to pick up apart from me.

I'm bad at enjoying myself. I'm bad at liking people, no matter how nice they are. I'm bad at being patient with those people I don't like, which somehow ends up being the majority. I'm bad at trying, bad at putting effort into things, whether for someone elses benefit or indeed my own. I'm bad at staying calm. I'm bad at controlling myself. I'm bad at not being selfish. I'm bad at being grateful for everything that I have. And I'm bad at loving the right people the right amount.

Susie is not just feeling sorry for herself. Susie is seriously in need of some change.

Susie is not worth it

It seems that I've quite happily neglected this blog as much as I did my old one. I’m not sure why I bothered making this new one anyway. Today in German Frau Chaudhri was talking about people who plan to do things and think and remember and sort things out in their heads, but never actually get round to doing them. I guess I’m one of those people. I’ve actually had quite a lot to say over the last little while; I’ve half written blogs and then not bothered posting them, then thought about it days later when it’s no longer relevant. I guess I’m just not reliable enough for this sort of thing; never quite motivated enough, even to do something which is purely for my own good and enjoyment.

Susie is never going to get anywhere in life unless she stops being so damn lazy.

I was thinking the other day, as I was walking home on my own, about whether or not I’m actually happy. I mean, when I’m with people, I have a good laugh, I enjoy their company, and all that jazz. But when it’s just me, and I get to thinking, and I don’t have anything to laugh about – I really do find it difficult to find anything to be happy about.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m unhappy; there’s nothing I can think of which makes me particularly displeased with my life – well, in any meaningful capacity anyway. But at the same time, I’m not sure there’s anything which I can think about and know that it makes me happy.

The other day a few of us went to Zoë’s; we all sat around the table and played 21 truths (only for part of the day, that’s not all we did) – it was good fun. Raz got the question ‘what one thing in your life makes you the most happy/you are most happy about/thankful for’ something along those lines. She quite instantly said Max, and it was clear that everyone else was thinking about their answers. And I honestly couldn’t think of anything. Had I been asked the question, I think I would have lied and said ‘my friends’. Obviously, I love my friends to pieces, they make me feel secure, and loved, and I’m glad I have them. But I don’t know if just the knowledge of having them actually makes me happy.

Susie is not sure what happy really means anymore.

Who knows, maybe happiness isn’t about having certain things which make you happy. Maybe just the lack of unhappy things is enough to constitute happiness, perhaps this vague indifference I feel at the moment is what people refer to when they say they are truly happy with their lives.
Maybe I’ll never find anything which will make me ‘truly happy’ anyway, and merely contented will be what I have to live with.

Writing this has annoyed me, because it’s made me sound and feel like a bit of an emo. I know that my life isn’t bad my any means. But sometimes, I just think it must surely be my turn for something truly wonderful to come along, that I will know makes me happy.