Entitlement and the Pursuit of Happiness

I am almost ashamed to say it, but I have favorites among my pets.
Granted, they take turns most often, since one or two of them are usually bugging the crap out of me... but I have my baby... who ironically was never supposed to be part of our 'pride'.
Those that know the story know that I ended up with a pregnant mama cat and a daughter begging to keep one of the litter. Thinking I knew a bit about genetics, I promised her we'd keep the white one. He was the last one born in a litter of four... his brothers and sisters were black or mottled. He was pure white, with crystal blue eyes. A genetic freak. And a Mama's Boy.

He is Spartacus.

OR... as I refer to him (in my kitten voice) 'Sparkle-Berry Brown'. (His gay stage name.)
He is a titled cat. He is the Prince of Precious, the Earl of Snuggles, and the Marquis of Muffins.
Often, I like to just watch him... as he investigates the best spot in the room to take a nap or takes great pains to wash his face. He is the kind of cat who starts to purr before you even touch him, but will run if I have ear drops anywhere in arms' reach. He seems to know intent, if that's possible. (Which, for animals, I think it is.)

As I watched him drool while kneading a pillow, it struck me that cats... or any animal, really... need no permission to pursue their own happiness. They just do. Whether it's chasing flies or napping in the sunny spot, animals need no excuse... no justification for what they do. It is understood. They simply choose to 'be'.

As humans, we are not guaranteed the unalienable right to happiness itself. We are guaranteed the right to 'pursue' happiness. (Within certain legal and socially acceptable parameters, of course.)
And yet, I'm struck by how incorrect that may be. By simply being given the free will to 'pursue' happiness, aren't we already guaranteed that it's available to us?
Here's where I'm going with this...
It's a choice.
To 'pursue'... is a choice. To be happy is a choice. To be angry is a choice. In the end, any decision stems from the same vessel.

I hear both sides of the coin from those who don't believe they deserve to be happy... and those who believe that they are entitled to happiness. I believe it's neither. And both. It's a choice. Neither is something that comes from any external force. It is solely and completely 100% internal.

I've lived most of my life as a reactionary person. Happy because something caused me to be happy or angry because someone or something made me so... But where I find peace nowadays is in simply choosing to be happy. Not for any reason other than just to 'be'. Not only does it put the responsibility back on me, but it removes the ability of anyone/anything else to alter my 'state of being'.

I don't think my pampered gay cat ever questions whether he deserves to be happy or whether he needs to be angry... I think he just 'is'... and that seems like a very unapologetic, peaceful existence to me. It just feels right.

There is hope in this world. There is peace. There is happiness. There is love.
I do believe in Gandhi's observation that we have to be the change we want to see in the world.
Not because we are entitled or deserving, but because it is part of the fundamental purpose of being. We are responsible for our own actions and reactions. We are responsible for our own pursuits. Responsible for our own anger. And our own happiness.

And on that note, I leave some words from Osho:

"Take hold of your own life.
See that the whole existence is celebrating.
These trees are not serious, these birds are not serious.
The rivers and the oceans are wild,
and everywhere there is fun,
everywhere there is joy and delight.
Watch existence,
listen to the existence and become part of it."
— Osho

Welcome to the Neighborhood!

Well, we're moved!

I vaguely remember an epic 24-hour packing session followed by two days of moving, a day of cleaning (all while teaching full-time during the day) and another 24-hours full of "Where's my... ?" and "Have you seen the box with the...?"

I was teaching the teen Shakespeare workshop with PT's Summer Camp program that week, and admittedly, I did not expect the kids to be so dang good! I let them design their own program for the final performance on Friday and they chose 'Death by Shakespeare' which was a montage of 6 scenes depicting epic Shakespearean deaths. Romeo and Juliet, Caesar, the MacDuff family, Desdemona, etc. My introduction did not appropriately prepare the parents and other students for what they were about to see... and so a performance that had begun with adorable little 7-year-olds singing and dancing to Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious ended with Titus and Lavinia slitting the throats of her tormentors followed by the double suicide of Romeo and Juliet.
In retrospect, I should have pushed for the vignettes from Midsummer...

This week has proven to be more family-friendly as we've dumped the heavy content of Shakespeare and taken on 'Mastering the Monologue' and audition prep. I've got an extremely talented and enthusiastic group of 20 kids workin' their tails off when they could be on their couches sleeping, watching TV or playing video games; so I respect them all for being there every day.

In other news, the Jeep waited until the last load of goods had been delivered to the new place and promptly decided that it didn't want to start again. It has done the same thing before... and has responded at times to jumpstarting... and last Memorial Day, after my step-dad assisted in taking out the starter to have it checked, the thing started back up just fine. I just don't know what to make of it. Could be that the neutral safety switch is gummed up. Could be electrical. Could be my solenoid. I just don't know.
So... I'm hoping to have it towed to the house today.
Thankfully, my mom loaned me her Prius, so that has been getting me to and from work every day until I can get The Beast back up and running.

Luckily, I'm in the glamorous part of Mesa that is just a stone's throw from a bunch of mechanic shops... and I suspect that at least one of the three drunks who live across the street is handy with a socket set on a vehicle.

I went to the nearest Wal-Mart with Jason and as soon as we walked in, he broke out the Che... "Oh what a circus, oh what a show!..."
Oh yes... downtown Mesa has all the adventure and excitement of downtown Phoenix... but without the culture, food and arts. (And I don't mean ALL of Mesa... it does have it's venues and restaurants... but my little corner is pretty desolate except for the Bookman's and the Atomic Comics.)

The commute into Phoenix is shorter by a good chunk and the commute to Chandler is a short jaunt at best, so I'm happy with the location. Now I just have to start making the new place look and feel like 'home'... which isn't helped by the stacks of boxes waiting their rightful places in storage or unpacked in one of the rooms.
Meh... I'll get to the rest of it this weekend... in addition to tinkering with the Jeep.

In the meantime, I've got a class to teach and a show to put on!

OMG. Srsly? WTF? FML...FTW.

Camp starts tomorrow.

What is camp, you ask? Phoenix Theatre's youth summer camp.
This week, I'll be teaching about 20 teens how to read, interpret and perform Shakespeare. (We hope.)

That's where I'll be from 8-5 each day... with my evenings spent frantically packing up for the big move. Yup. Moving day is Thursday. Final walk-thru of the old place is Friday.

Can we say overwhelmed?

I'm both excited and nervous for camp this week. Excited because I get to immerse myself in The Bard once again. Nervous because the whole thing culminates in a performance on Friday... and four days is not a lot of time for some of his loftier offerings.

In the meantime, I've had 'Movin' Right Along' (as sung by Kermit and Fozzie) running on a continuous loop in my head each time another box gets packed. Which also tells me that I need to have my Pandora more readily available while I'm working.

I have no idea how we're going to make it all happen. Movers are being hired (it's not like I have the luxury of time to make multiple trips or load it all up with the help of my dearest friends)... and we're talking a 4-bedroom house with multiple large furniture sets. Now, I'm a buff li'l scrapper, but I honestly don't want to put my poor old body through that. And there's no way I could do it all in the span of an evening after work. So... movers it is. Hallelujah.

But that doesn't change the fact that I still have to clean out the old place (and shampoo the carpets) as well as try to get the new place in at least functional order before I leave the kids to fend for themselves all day without me (which really just means making sure the TV/cable/Playstation is hooked up).

OMG. I just realized how boring and... *gasp* responsible this blog sounds. As if I'm a grown-up who is bound by agendas and schedules and obligations.

Ew!!

Okay, well on that note, I'm gonna go chug a forty and pass out in the living room with my band and the two homies we met at the Circle K.
Not really. I'm gonna brush my teeth and scoot the dog off of my side of the bed and crash like the old fart I am.

Hoping that by the end of the week, we'll all be happy campers!