Dear Denille,

I understand that Americans are fond of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. On the off-chance that you have pursued happiness and caught it, I would welcome your advice.

My family is a mess. Ever since my baby sister died, things have become steadily worse. I could go into intimate detail about the causes of this, but I know that you are American and therefore time-poor. Consequently, I will be brief:

– Mum: breast cancer, double mastectomy, depression.

– Dad: thwarted ambition, loss of wife’s love (possibly), resentment of brother Brian for perceived wrongs.

– Rich Uncle Brian: materially wealthy, but emotionally poor.

– Candice (me): socially inept. Add to this list a permanent sense of loss and possible guilt because of dead sister Sky and, as you can imagine, we are not the front-runners for Australian Happy Family of the Year.

What’s more, SIGNIFICANT OTHERS are faring no better. Take my English teacher, Miss Bamford. She has an eye that is not so much lazy as a complete bludger (do you have that word in America? You should. Actually, now you do, if you didn’t before – an unexpected benefit of cross-cultural communication. What fun!). Children can be cruel. Her bludger eye causes much teasing from her students and I know this upsets her.

Then there is Douglas Benson From Another Dimension who is desperately unhappy at being stuck in this dimension with facsimile parents who are neither quantum physicists nor experimental musicians. I worry he is paying too much attention to a certain ravine. Sorry to be cryptic, but I dare say you get the general idea.

Now. The thing is this. Everyone wanders around, more or less aimlessly, in apparent acceptance of their fate. Douglas is the exception. He spends time jumping out of trees, but becomes dispirited when nothing happens except the occasional sprained ankle. No one is successfully pursuing happiness, with or without sprained ankles. I suspect happiness for us is not even a dot on the horizon, but has emigrated to foreign climes and left no forwarding address. Maybe it’s gone to America…

This must change.

I talked things over with Earth-Pig Fish last night as is my wont when momentous things are weighing me down. Or not weighing me down, which is another matter entirely. I have to tell you, Denille, that in addition to all the other troubles afflicting me, I am totally flat-chested. My breasts have either never made an appearance or they went AWOL as soon as they did (I suspect it is the former).Earth-Pig Fish did not help in any practical way, especially with the breast dilemma, but I took her repetitive mouth opening as a piscine method of showing emotional support (I am up to the letter P in my nightly reading of the dictionary. It is an interesting letter). You see, I want to pursue happiness. I want to catch it, grab it by the scruff of the neck, drag it home and force it to embrace all the people I mentioned above.

I’m just not sure how to accomplish this. But I am determined to try.

What do you think of my plan?

Your penpal,

Candice

P.S. I suppose it isn’t really a plan. A plan should… well, plan, I imagine. The pursuit of happiness is more of a goal or a wish. If you think of a plan, please let me know. In the meantime, I’ll make it up as I go along.