I was reading on the BBC News website a report which included a graph showing people's happiness levels through out their life times. The graph is, conveniently enough, smile-shaped; it begins at a high point when people were in their teens, curves downwards to a low point indicating that most people were at their most miserable at around forty, and then curves back up as people became steadily happier again.
I have only one question: What the hell kind of teenagers were they interviewing for this? Seriously, aren't teenagers supposed to be lurking in their darkened bedrooms listening to dirge-like music and writing lots of whiny entries in their diaries about how nobody understands them and life is totally unfair.
I know I did, very briefly.
To be honest I was always terrible at diary keeping, because I only ever seemed to actually write an entry when I was feeling mopey; and I never really did anything, so they were pretty dull too. I think I mainly kept a diary as an excuse to buy the note books, because I covet lovely fresh notepads so much that I would otherwise just buy them and never do anything with them for fear of spoiling them**. Don't worry though, you can rest assured that there will be no Cringe type shenanigans here, because I destroyed my teenage diaries a few years ago when I was about to move house and couldn't bear to pack them. I do not regret doing so for a moment, they were awfully self-indulgent records of events that I realised later I really had no need to be reminded of. It's sort of a pity there wasn't someway I could have just bleached out all the writing and kept the notebooks, but in the end I had to go with old fashioned ripping out of pages and I think there was also some burning of particularly awful bits.
Personally I think my happiness graph would be pretty level, and I would even say it's probably improved as I've grown older and understood myself better. I'm much clearer these days about what I consider fun, and so that means I actually have more fun then I used to. I definitely know I would not want to be a teenager again.
The mere thought...
shudder.
**I've tried to ween myself off buying blank note books, but if I see a particularly nice one and I can justify it somehow, then it's mine. The last note book I bought was a tiny Sara Fanelli note pad from the Tate Britain gift shop. I'd long since stopped keeping a diary, so what was the excuse for buying this one? Well I'd just read one of those books about personal finance that recommend you note down everything you spend to keep track of where all your money actually went, so that way you could budget more effectively. it's a very sensible idea, but I really should have known that my money-out ledger would end up reading:
- This note pad: 1 pound 50 pence
- No Further Entries
Actually I don't think that's true, I think the second entry would have been a cup of tea and a slice of cake in the Tate Britain tea room, don't you? That sounds much more likely to me. Point being though, that I didn't keep track of my spending for very long and I don't know where that note pad is right now. Pity; it was super cute, with a little bit of red elastic to keep it closed, it was a really good little note pad.
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