Listen...

Do you want to know a secret? Do you promise not to tell?

Those of you who are die-hard Beatles fans like myself will know that this is the beginning of one of their earliest songs. The Beatles and their wonderful wonderful music are not the topic of this post, however. But, as is often the case, lyrics were popping up in my mind as I sat down to write this. The topic of this post is something that drives humanity, is on all of our minds nearly every day and the lack of it can bring some to their ultimate demise. I've been thinking about it a lot lately and the topic is happiness.

John, Paul, George and Ringo told us nearly half a century ago that happiness is a warm gun. Now, while this metaphor can mean a number of things (some of them more or less obvious), none of these are really what I'm talking about. The happiness of which they sang seemed to me more of a temporary experience. No, the happiness that I'm thinking of is more a state of being.

I was in Starbucks this Saturday evening, post-shift, and one of my favorite customers was sitting in the cafe. As I was getting ready to go, he called me over and asked if I would mind if he asked me a serious question. Of course, I sat down and said, "what's up?" Then, this grown man, probably in his late fifties or early sixties, asked me, "Kelsey, why are you always so happy? I've never seen you not happy, and I'm curious as to your secret."

I've had this question posed to me before.

Never, however, has it been from someone I respect so much- someone who I see as older and wiser beyond my few years. I was blown away. I do spend time thinking about happiness, and I told him this. I wasn't exactly sure at first how to articulate my response, but I did my best to give an explanation for myself.

Happiness is a choice. Of course I have bad days. But if you choose to see each day as a gift, then there is no reason to be anything but happy. I cry sometimes. Sometimes I feel sad. Some days I feel downright depressed. But that doesn't change the fact that overall I am a happy person. I am thankful for all of the good fortune I've had in my life and I suppose this shows. And above all, what I want to do most with this gift of a life I've been given is to make the lives of those around me better however I can.

Having people like this gentleman in Starbucks notice makes it easier to keep on the way I have been, even when discouraging moments come along. It makes me feel like no matter my failures and mistakes, I can still see a purpose for my existence.

Clifford Geertz once said that, "one of the most significant facts about us may be that we all begin with the natural equipment to live a thousand kinds of life but end up having lived only one." I feel like living with that knowledge can make anyone want to make the most of what they've got. Choosing to be happy is just the way I want to spend mine.

Venti Nonfat Caramel Macchiato

I started a job as a barista at Starbucks a couple of months ago. I figured, what the hell. I love coffee, I might as well be getting it for free while I finish writing my Master's dissertation. Plus, they promised to pay me at least minimum wage.

I've actually really enjoyed my time at Starbucks so far. It's a funny sort of environment/cult that one becomes a part of once they start working at a franchise. Recently, my dreams have consisted of fast and furious rushes in the drive-thru during which I make drink after drink at 6am, knowing full well that I wasn't scheduled to be in until 2 that afternoon. My favorite part, though, is the customers.

I work in a town nearby my hometown, so I know a few people who come through the store, but not a lot. However, since there are so many "regulars" at my Starbucks, I have made some new acquaintances. Some of these individuals I now know by name. Countless others, though, I know by drink.

Just two days ago, I was wandering slightly aimlessly around Target (just down the road from my Starbucks) and saw Venti Nonfat Caramel Macchiato. Now, of course, this is not this woman's Christian name. Rather, it is her drink. Nearly every day I see this woman, speak with her, smile at her, ask about her health and her day, but have yet to learn her name. Instead, I know it is her as soon as she pulls up to the speaker and tells me she wants a venti-sized nonfat caramel macchiato. Therefore, when I saw this woman doing her shopping around Target, I immediately said her drink in my head. No speaker, headset or window separated us. I was no longer donning my lovely green apron, splattered with mocha sauce. However, I still identified her as her coffee beverage. I'm sure if she'd seen me, she would've said, "There's Kelsey, the barista."

Now, I don't necessarily want to be identified as my transient profession of glorified coffee jerk. Conversely, though, I am pretty sure there is much more to these people than the Starbucks drinks they order every day. I mean, Tall Quad Ristretto 2-Pump No Whip Mocha doesn't really identify with his drink on a personal level. Maybe he does, given its complexity, but I doubt it. More boring orders like Venti Unsweetened Iced Green Tea in a Personal Cup are probably not necessarily more boring people, but who knows? I do know that I love chatting with Venti Mocha Frappuccino with Mocha Drizzle, but don't care too much for the low grumblings of Unsweetened Venti Iced Coffee with Light 2% Milk. However, Venti Iced Coffee, Sweet but no Milk is one of the most adorable little Asian men I've ever encountered. It makes me think of the whole theory that pet owners start to look like their pets, or vice versa. Does that really hold true?

Photographs and Memories

I've been thinking a lot lately about photographs. Recently I had the chance to use an old 35mm film camera to snap a few shots, and so I got to wondering about the change in photography in the past 15-20 years. Photography has changed, yes. The way in which one actually executes the taking of a photograph is dramatically different now that digital cameras exist. Instantly, we can see the results of our efforts on a tiny screen built into the camera itself. This, of course, transforms the boundaries set by older, less-technologically advanced equipment.

The change in how photographs are taken is not really what has occupied my mind these days, though. Rather, it is about how many photographs now exist due to the existence of digital cameras. And, along with this, wondering how many photographs may exist of one person in his or her lifetime- many of which he or she may never be aware.

To illustrate this, I did a little observation of my own digital photography collection. As a case study, I chose to look into three sets of photographs, all taken in Paris, France at three separate times. Within these photos, I looked for shots I had taken of individuals that to this day remain anonymous.

The first one was taken in October of 2008 and is of a young gentleman reading on the lawn near the Eiffel Tower.

Apparently deep in thought, he seems to be a part of the natural scenery of this particular green space. I do not know him. I do not know what he was reading that day three years ago. And, he will never know that this image of him exists.

In June of 2011, I traveled again to Paris and took this shot of a

man walking past the entrance to the Metro near Notre Dame. This time, the photograph is of an individual in motion. He could be walking to work, home, university classes or a fashion show for all I know. However, as it is, I have this snapshot of a moment in his life. It is highly likely that he and I will never meet.

Finally, I went to Paris again just about two weeks ago. Many more photographs were taken.

The one I chose to look at for this little rabbit hole I've taken us down is of an older man sitting on a bench in Pont Neuf. To me, it seemed like he was waiting on someone. As time went on, however, it became clear that either that individual never arrived or he had just been doing a bit of, well, nothing. Which, to be honest, is what Luke and I were doing sitting in that same park, but under a tree when I shot this.

Many people do not like being photographed. Old Order Amish and some Mennonites forbid photographs being taken of themselves, citing the Second Commandment as their reason. However, it is nearly impossible to imagine a world now without the hundreds upon thousands of images on the Internet that people post purposely, not to mention anonymous photographs such as the ones in this post. The concept of space has changed since the storage of electronic files. It makes me wonder if some sort of e-landfill will have to be created to take all of the unwanted clutter leftover after this generation is gone. How many photographs will exist of children who were born in the time of digital photography by the time they are on their deathbeds? I'm waxing a bit morbid, but just sayin' is all.

Meh, some food for thought.