There are times when the best advice never seems to fit the situation. “Happiness is being Yourself” seems like such wonderful advice, but who are we? Who am I?
Am I the person who takes the time to sit and write about what is on my mind? Obviously this person filters an awful lot of things through before writing them down. Isn’t being myself supposed to be about spontaneity and spur of the moment things?
Am I the product of my environment? Or do I shape the things around me? Am I defined by my work? These are deep questions that spring to mind when I see something simple like Snoopy And The Gang. Perhaps the psychiatric help for 5 cents isn’t such a bad deal after all?