Conservation of Happiness

My marriage caused the death of both my grandmothers. I was on television during college, and it killed my grandfather. And now, it seems, I have passed on my curse to my niece. And her power is much stronger than mine; she has lost three great-grandparents before turning one.

The restaurant where my husband and I shared our first date burned down. Pretty much every company I’ve ever worked for no longer exists – and I’ve worked for eight different companies since graduating college, so it’s more than mere coincidence and bad decisions; it’s a trend, a curse, dare I say a superpower?

Oh what a formidable foe we would be if my niece and I could harness this negative energy. I long ago came up with the principle of Conservation of Happiness. Similar to the Conservation of Energy principle I learned about in Physics classes, this principle states that there is a finite amount of happiness in this world. If one person has too much happiness, it is balanced by taking away happiness from someone else.

This theory was never taught to me directly, but it was the natural explanation for the way I was raised. I was led to believe that if I had too much fun, it would be at some expense. My school years were for studying, I was told; they were not to be spent dating or going to dances and parties. Later, when I was a social outcast because I never dated or went to dances or parties, I wondered why. I dutifully accepted that it wasn’t right to want to have too much fun. Concerts? Oh no. But I would give my friends money to get me concert t-shirts when they went. That was fun. And by wearing them at school the next day I could see others in the same t-shirts and feel a sense of camaraderie.

Finally, in college, I broke out. I lived for me. My motto became “What good is life after death if you have no life before death?” It was great. I was accountable to nobody but myself. Right and wrong were up to me. I went to a bar every Thursday night and drank and danced (incidentally, that place is now a restaurant. But I’m not taking blame for its demise; what is the lifespan of any bar anyhow?). I minored in Theater (with a major in biochemistry, pre-med). Life was great. I met a guy, and we went to a Chinese restaurant for our first date. My theater class filmed three Saturday morning educational commercials. I was on television.

And then we got the call twelve hours after my first television appearance. The trans-Atlantic flight probably caused the delay. My mother became fatherless because I thought it would be cool to be a star. Never mind that these commercials aired at 7:30 in the morning, were seen by nobody, and were so bad as to be embarrassing. In my heart, I was being selfish. And it would not go unnoticed or unpunished.

I have to believe there is a greater power out there than man. Perhaps there is no God, which may simply be a human construct invented to make people act civilly toward one another and find solace when everyone around them was dying young of the Bubonic Plague. People like the mystical. People like stories. People like to feel self-important. But mostly, people are afraid – of change, of the unknown, of death. Why did a massive tsunami kill 150,000 people? Why did the major networks think it noteworthy to mention that 16 Americans died? Is it any wonder that the rest of the world hates us?

But anyhow, back to me. I had a boyfriend. And eventually, we decided to get married. My parents eventually agreed. Then, two weeks before the big day, we got a call. My mom’s mom had died.

“You must be mistaken,” my father yelled into the phone, “it is my mother who is sick.”

But no, there was no mistake. My mother’s mother died. We decided we’d go ahead with the wedding. Then, five days later, another call came. This time my father’s mother suffered from my selfishness.

So now what? How do we keep from killing off the ones we love? If we could somehow harness this power, evil everywhere could be conquered. Perhaps my niece and I are the next incarnate of Vishnu (ok, probably just my niece since I’m pretty sure I’d have to believe in religion to be God incarnate). Maybe my focus is supposed to be companies. If I were to take a job for Microsoft, they would come crumbling down. If I took a job for the U.S. Government… you get the drift. If, on the other hand, we tracked down Osama or his Al Qaida minions, converted to Islam to become part of their posse, and became secret spies, we could end terrorism.

Or maybe I need to stop watching ‘Alias’ and ‘Law and Order: Criminal Intent.’