I’m a pretty happy person, at least from my view. Of course some days are happier than others like finding a parking space at every errand stop. Or finding a super cute, super flattering top on SALE. Sometimes, I think things are just meant to be on those days. I never thought about topping a great day; I wouldn’t know how to amp up the luck. If I did, well I would want for nothing.

A group of friends decided to read The Happiness Project. Gretchen Rubin, the author, says she’s a happy person but felt there was room for improvement. Every month for a year, she focused on something, i.e. de-cluttering, exercising more and sleeping more. I can always de-clutter. I do feel freer with clear countertops and empty corner spaces, where all the piles collect. I just hate doing it every day as she suggests. I hate it like I hate peas. I’m happier if I ignore the piles. Exercise, I discovered the happiness of endorphins a long time ago. Sleeping, I love naps! It took me a long time to understand my mom’s fascination with daily siestas. Siesta was one of the few Spanish words my mom knew. Spain seems like a fine place to live for nap-o-philes. I would be very happy there.

Two for one: First selfie. First JLo shoe–tried didn’t buy. Happy. Happy.

One interesting goal Gretchen mentioned got me really going. She suggested trying new activities, getting out of your comfort zone. She says new endeavors force your brain to work in new ways and make you a more creative person. The light bulb blinked on in my head. I was feeling more creative just thinking about it. I decided if an unusual opportunity presented itself, like a lucky penny, I needed to do it.

A very wise friend suggested I try getting one of my essays on a show called The Moth. Regular people stand up and tell a true story on a given topic, to a live audience and are rated, ten being the best. My friend suggested I tell the story about the last week I spent with my dad before he passed. It’s an upbeat, sweet story. She would not let this go; she nudged me for 18 months.

I saw this as an opportunity to try a new thing so I could be a happier and more creative person. It was one of those “meant to be” days where everything fell into place. The show always sells out and I was able to get tickets. A buddy from my hometown was willing to ride BART with me to The City; I wouldn’t have to walk the streets at night, by myself. My hair appointment was scheduled for the same day. It was meant to be, the Moth and me, or so it seemed.

As I practiced, I was learning it’s very difficult to memorize an essay. I also had to cut the essay down by two-thirds. I practiced and practiced in my outdoor office, THE GREAT WHITE BUS, my SUV. How could I rehearse with so many teen judges in the background? I was determined to do a new thing well so I could be happier.

On show night, my friend and I got off at 16th and Mission in San Francico, a mostly industrial area near the freeway. We walked through homeless encampments, trying to look inconspicuous, the only two blonde women on the street. On the next block a Hispanic lady with a ponytail in gray sweat pants and green sweatshirt approached me. I thought she had a question. Instead she came right at me, separating me from my friend. She didn’t stop until her pointer finger landed forcefully and squarely on my cheek for a couple of good jabs. My hand reached for her shoulder and gently pushed her away, “Get away from me!” I demanded. I kept walking, my friend followed close by my side.

The crazy lady cried out despicable names in Spanish. I don’t know what she said but I could tell by the emphasis she put on certain words, they were “bad.” The crazy lady was clearly looking for a fight. I was working too hard at being happier, I didn’t have enough anger to fight back. She was 50 lbs. heavier. She would win. I passed on this “new” opportunity.

My stage. Tried to be happy.

As we entered the theater I headed to the stage to put my name in the hat to tell a story. Then I waited and waited. As I listened to the storytellers before me, I was getting worried. My story was not set up like their stories. Maybe my name would not be called. Just being in a seedy theater on a Tuesday night is new for me. I could be happy enough. A couple of other storytellers got lost in their performance. Their failure boosted my confidence.

Then it was my turn, name number seven, “Francie Low.” I had a cheap seat so it took awhile to get to the stage. For some reason, my hands seemed really comfy in my jean pockets while I stood in front of the microphone. I NEVER keep my hands in my pockets. I was trying to remember all the tips my 15 year-old gave me before I left. He’s done countless presentations at school recently. He said, “I don’t know if you have a gift for public speaking, but I’ll tell you what to do.” I hung on his every word. I focused on a single person. He told me to just remember points, not full sentences. “Keep talking!” was his last bit of advice. I only had five minutes. I was not going to burn up time with pauses.

I write funny things so I’m used to getting laughs here and there in my small groups. I wasn’t getting many giggles. I guess talking about the last week with your dad is not exactly cheery. I plugged along and got nice applause afterward. My score was right in the middle, about 8.6. Other scores were lower so I was glad I didn’t completely tank.

“Bachelorette Bash” is a new color for me. Happy.

I don’t think this new experience made me happier, more like relieved it’s over. I definitely learned a lot. I learned I do not want to BE Ellen DeGeneres. I just want to be ON Ellen DeGeneres. I have A LOT more respect for entertainers, politicians, preachers and teachers. I also learned I don’t have to try BIG new things to be happy. I can try little things like a pretty new toe polish, something without an audience. Or I can do what a friend told me she learned from a happiness class:

1. Write down three things I am thankful for each day in a journal.
2. Write about one positive experience each day.
3. Email or tell someone what they mean to me or thank them for something.

Rules: Each thing must not repeat. The brain changes structure after 21 days.

I’ll start right now: Thank you for reading my blog. It truly means a lot. I know you have choices and I’m grateful you choose me.