Used, abused, recycled and reused, happiness is one of those words we’ve assigned to classify a ridiculously indescribable emotion. Think about it. How does happiness feel? Call me Nostradamus, but chances are you tried to use “happy” in your description.

“Being happy” has become a luxury in America, ranking right up there with owning the largest Louis Vuitton bag on the market, or getting laid by Victoria Beckham.

ABC’s 20/20 recently covered the age-old ‘happy question,’ characterizing America as the land of happy hours and happy meals. The truth is, everyone wants to be happy; it’s a human desire and a never-ending quest.

Even among college students, happiness ranks above health and money. As if that’s not enough of a head-scratcher, could it be possible that in a country so boastful of its capitalist upbringing, this so-called happy factor could be, at most, a mirage? In a want-more, need-more society, is happiness even really attainable?

I, myself, have taken happiness out to play once in a while, slowed time at moments in my life and said, “Wow, I am really truly happy. This is it,” only to recall other times where I’ve taken happiness out with the trash, tossed it angrily away sure that there is no way it could possibly exist. With war, hunger, poverty, heartbreak and good ol’ Bush, believing in happiness can seem as foolish as a flying unicorn.

But, never-fail, there was always a point where I’d amble out reluctantly and dig through the litter, resurfacing the happiness I’d hopelessly tossed, like a homeless man realizing he’d thrown away his last scrap.

In my pursuit for happiness, I’ve done what any Journalism major word do – a bit of research. According to most experts (is an expert on happiness inherently happy?), happiness revolves around whomever one revolves around; in other words, the people around you.

Studies by ABC, NBC and other corporate-owned media outlets show that socializing may equal joy. This could be why so many people think entering a marriage will be the ultimate blissful moment, and for many it is. But in order to play the oh-so beloved role of Devil’s Advocate, I’ll mutter only two words – divorce rate. Many believe that having children will bring happiness into their lives. In fact, studies have shown that children really make little impact negatively or positively on a parent’s sense of happiness.

Other experts claim that it is the little things that make us happy, the things we all seem to seek when unhappy – puppies, chocolate, sex. Amidst one of the biggest sexual revolutions of all time, sex has been emphasized as a more than effective mood-booster, the key to true happiness, according to some. WebMD actually reported that regular sex is better for one’s happiness than money. Street-walkers nationwide rejoice – “and they said money can’t buy happiness.”

There are countless other studies that show simply acting happy can cause happiness. The question arises, isn’t that just faking it? Americans everywhere have been paying hard-earned dollars to participate in laughing classes. These classes don’t employ chocolate, puppies or even drugs or booze (which admittedly would make a lot more sense to many), but simply the exercise of a deep thunderous belly laugh.

If all this is true, it seems like the key to happiness lies in being super social, super sexual, and smiling like a madwoman. Does this mean that for a monk living in solitude, happiness is not possible? What about the woman with no friends or family but her pet Chihuahua, who recently left Dr. Phil baffled on his own show, unsure about how to treat someone who seemed and claimed to be extremely happy? The irony of it all lies in the probability that, if such a person existed that claimed to be wholeheartedly happy, one who walked around with a gleaming smile as permanent as a tattoo, it would only be days before they’d be exiled to some sort of psychiatrist. The same way that Dr. Phil treated his dog-loving guest like a ticking time bomb, society would likely cast her off like a broken appliance in need of fixing, all because she was happy.

As much as happiness can be poked, prodded, diagnosed and prescribed, it is not something that can be measure or classified. Something ably measured needs to be tangible or finite; happiness is neither. It is a mortal emotion that is overemphasized in our country as necessity.

It is only human nature to feel sorrow, dissatisfaction or simply indifference. To be completely and unconditionally happy is clearly an unrealistic state. Because of this, in America, happiness has become more of a marketing ploy than a genuine emotion. My only question is – who does that make happy?

Solmaaz Yazdiha is a Collegian columnist. She can be reached at [email protected].