Is your happy too loud?

An important question if you think about. Which I have been lately--ever since I saw We Bought a Zoo.

In the story, 7-year-old Rosie can't sleep because the neighbors are always partying at the top of their lungs. Oh, and also because her mother recently died.

In one scene her dad tries to help her fall asleep. They're looking out the window watching the neighbors dance and laugh, and Rosie makes the most profound observation in the history of the world: Their happy is too loud.

Ain't that just the truth? When the volume on your sad goes up, suddenly everyone puts their happy on surround sound.

Why can't happy people just plug their headphones in once in a while?

I only say this because I live in Happy Valley. If I lived in Death Valley I would say, why can't the sad people push mute once in a while? And if I lived in Silicon Valley I would say, why can't the perfect people stop pumping up the volume on their implants?

(Wait, did I take that out of context?)

It's about balance, peeps. That's alls I'm sayin'.

(Wait, did you take that out of context?)

Balance your happy with your sad. And if you don't have your own sad, borrow someone else's. Believe me, there's plenty to go around. I've been borrowing other people's sad for the past several weeks and it works like a charm to take your happy down a few decibels.

You can borrow from the sad I'm borrowing if you want. I wouldn't mind some help carrying it.

Never mind. I probably shouldn't be lending out things that aren't mine. And anyway, we keep our sad on the down-low here in Utah. I think it's a Mormon thing.

Or is it?

I sometimes worry that Mormons are trying to corner the market on happiness, and maybe that's why Utah is the most depressed state (not to mention the most stressed state). Think about it logically; not only is it capitalistic, it's also depressing (and stressful) to be as happy as a clam all the time (even if you think you're shaping pearls).

Dang oxymormons.

Take me, for instance. I'm a Mormon. Oh yes I am. and if you want to study a Mormon I'm a living specimen. (Not like a bug-pinned-wriggling-to-the-wall specimen, but a religious specimen.)

Feel free to study me. To do as I'm doing. Then follow, follow me.

As a child I learned that no one likes a frowny face. So I changed it to a smile. I quickly turned it upside down, then smiled all the while.

But then I started getting cavities.

Not from smiling, from watching other people smile. Which is the reason I started blogging. My teeth were practically falling out of my mouth from hearing about everyone's wonderful husbands and wonderful lives and wonderful children, and I realized someone needed to step up and help fight the tooth decay.

(You're welcome. And don't forget to floss.)

It was easy to fight tooth decay when I lived in Hawaii because everyone's happy was way too loud, but then so was their sad, and their mad and their bad. I once witnessed a man beat his grandson up at ward camp for smoking pakalolo and laying on top of his girlfriend in the bushes.

During testimony meetings it wasn't uncommon to hear people get up and say they wished they could leave their spouses, or stop screaming at their children. Of course no one ever did leave their spouses or stop screaming at their children.

They were just sayin'.

I've never heard anyone in Happy Valley say they wish they could leave their spouses or stop screaming at their children, but then they do stop screaming at their children, and oh my, do they ever leave their spouses! Do. They. Ever. Seen it with my very own eyes.

Also seen way too many people here leave their lives, or try to leave their lives--as in shuffle off this mortal coil of their own volition--although I've never heard them say they wanted to.

But then maybe I wasn't listening because my happy was too loud.