A Day Without Joy?

Yesterday, I heard so many utter the question, "Is it Friday yet?" I smiled, pretended to laugh, all the while feeling pained by this oh so common cliche. Later in the day, I watched a movie and a man questioned a woman's choice to work where she did. A sketchy, brothel-type place, where it appeared as though the women simply entertained, platonically I assume. She responded that the job brought her happiness, each and every day, because she got to do the things she loved, to sing and dance. I thought about the man's saga, one which saw him give up his calling, because he no longer had a love for it. He lived a much simpler life, caring for his son and running a tiny store. He had happiness, but the only joy was his love for his son. The woman had a love for others, but also had something for herself. It's an important distinction.

Yesterday, I was sick. I don't get sick often and I've been handling this slight cold, but yesterday, for all intent and purposes, I was ill. I had no fever, but I also had very little voice and even less energy. This was before work. Is it Monday yet? The children bring me a minuscule paycheck, but they bring me joy. I am often frustrated by them, angered at their selfishness, irritated by their lack of cleanliness, and surprised by their words and hitting. This aggravation is not out of a desire to not be there, it's out of love. While I'm sure their parents wish they'd stay this age forever, I long for the day when they don't have to be told. Oddly, in my line of work, I rarely, if ever, see the finished product of their childhoods. Mondays, despite aches and pains, often self-inflicted, bring me joy.

I have been thinking a lot recently, about a lot of people. Those I am in contact with daily and those who I view through the lens of what they choose to show on Facebook. I often remind myself that this sad, joyless existence, is what they choose to expose. If this is the best they can muster, do they even achieve minimal happiness? I think of my hard-working parent friends and how their children bring them joy daily. Sure, there are headaches, lack of sleep, and the usual frustrations, but their joy is with them each and every day. That is something I envy. I wonder how many people out there live without joy. This is not to be confused with depression, anxiety, or sadness, but the lack of a single thing which brings them a warmth and makes them whole. I see one person, every day, chasing their self-proclaimed dream, doing what they profess love for, and gaining nothing that even resembles a glimmer of contentment, let alone, happiness, and far removed from anything joyful. The complaints, about life, people, pets, their own self, yet all the while projecting this narcissistic pride in even the smallest accomplishments. All the while, surrounded by the most mundane daily expectations, left undone, unkempt, and unresolved. There is some order in chaos, but there is also a necessary order in achieving joy. Simply setting an alarm and meeting the occasional deadline at midnight of the evening before, is not it. One needs to want to create happiness out of their daily tasks or simply change those tasks to those which give them joy. And if one starts to believe that this level of happiness is contingent on other things, such as money, power, or other's praise, the chance they can achieve this is very slight. I speak only for myself and what brings m joy, but as long as their are young people, who see me and smile, just because I'm there, I will have joy each and every day of my life.