The Elusivity/Elasticity of Happiness

OK, so I'm not even going to go into what happiness is. I'll leave that to the experts. Suffice it to say we know it when we feel it.
But here's a burning question. Why are so many people somewhat miserable, somewhat often? I have a crackpot theory, and it goes way back to our founding fathers. Why did these otherwise really smart guys go with Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness. That implies we Amuricans will never achieve it, only be doomed to the bloody pursuit ad infinitum. Why couldn't they just say we're entitled to Life, Liberty and Happiness and not qualify it? They jinxed us.
Whatever the theories are, lot's of people are unhappy. Often with good reason. But really, we are our best sources of happiness, or not. We can't count on a new car, or a trip to the Mall of America. Sometimes all we want to do is stay in bed all day. Sometimes I do. But inevitably, after a while, I get up, eat an egg (Jane Austen's Mr Woodhouse says eggs are not unwholesome), talk to my dogs for awhile, then get back to the world.
Sometimes I don't want to go. I feel exhausted, sweaty, feverish. But I desperately want to go. I am sick to death of my mum's obsessively clean house, the pristine neighborhood where there aren't any real people outside, only landscapers roaring around on the Chemlawned expanses. I want to see people, feel connected. So I force myself to just do it.
Here's the assignment. The one I call Back to the World. Go to a place where there are people. Bring your notebook. Sit in a cafe, or on a park bench, or the mall foodcourt if need be, and cultivate your senses. Use them all. Notice what people say to each other(or themselves). How do they use language? Write them down, word for word. Their conversations may be quirky or amusing or dull, but notice.Describe the people who walk by. Their clothes and hair and dogs. Smell the pizza in the air. Is it veggie or pepperoni? How do the clouds move across the sky?

Alright, now I'm in the cafe. (I am drawing as well as writing, but stupidly haven't yet figured out how to let you see them) Here's a guy who came in. His hair is pretty outrageously curly. I wrecked his eye -- it looks like he's wearing an eye patch. Oh, well.
Then there's this guy, who has all kinds of lines in his face when he smiles. He's not bad looking in real life, but my drawing makes him look ghoulish. I am still terrible at drawing people, but that's not the point. I'm absorbed and entertained. And my bad drawings make me laugh, and laughter is good for the soul.
Here's a guy with a cap, and a big wad of food in his cheek. He reminds me of an old boyfriend who had this theory of eating. He took the biggest bite of food he could manage to stuff in his mouth, wadded it up in his cheek, and then chewed methodically, bit by bit, swallowing when each bit was mush. He had to chew like forty times for each bit, and each wad took about five minutes. He was the slowest eater I've ever known...
This exercise always makes me happy. I am usually uplifted or armed with some fresh absurdity by my observations
There are all kinds of people in the world, with interesting or silly habits and thoughts. You are only one of them. While you're busy observing and noticing, someone may be observing you, too. We can all be part of making each other's day, making one another's story.