No need for a title (or: Do they sell these lines anywhere?)

The weird thing about getting what you want (and want so badly) is that there's always something else you have to give up. You have to let go of one thing, to make room for another. We are never completely happy, and it makes us even unhappier when we try to come up with ways to be happy. (Hmm. Three HAPPYs there, in the last sentence).
Why am I so fond of parenthetical statements? A few years back at a poetry class, one of my poems was on the hot seat and my professor, poet and scholar Chingbee Cruz (her first book is out, by the way), commented that I had a penchant for asides (in parentheses) and that I liked to quantify things. Why is this? she asked (all I could give for an answer was a shrug).
Yeah, yeah. I know I didn't have to enclose the last sentence in parentheses. But what the heck.
There's something so cute (and quirky) about smugness and sarcasm enclosed between two parallel lines curving toward each other (look closely-- don't they seem STILL moving closer together?) CLOSELY and CLOSER. (Hmm. Same root words.)
Just a curious question: Why in the world would a band call themselves DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE? (If there's anyone out there who can give me an answer, please raise your hand. Thanks.)
I started this entry with a somber tone, and I had every intention of sustaining the seriousness to the end. But somehow, I shifted, somewhere along the way (or somewhere in the FIRST paragraph, would you believe it was THAT early).
I jumped.
Yeah, I did. (Try it, it's nice.)
It seemed trite to continue in the way I began. I mean, happiness? How many people have written about finding JOY and FULFILLMENT (did I spell that right?) and CONTENTMENT and all those BIG words pointing at approximately the same meaning that we all keep hoping would turn into something tangible, but remain abstract, anyway? (Long sentence, that one.) We turn ourselves upside-down, and our minds inside-out, and still, we remain just about right, somewhere. And that makes us restless, makes us wonder: is this all there is to it? (Am I back at where I started?)