The Ramblings Of A Tired Brain.
Getting into a deeply contemplative state of mind at 4:00 A.M., with no sleep while in a nasty mood is not great for the soul. That's when one might start doubting whether one even has a soul, and if one does have a soul, does it more resemble that of Nelson Mandela or Saddam Hussein?
I'm funny, ask anyone. I keep people laughing, have always tried to, sometimes more successfully than others. Laughing people don't generally want to hurt the person making them laugh. At least not at the moment they are laughing. It appears that "being funny" comes naturally to me. Not so much.
What I am is a sarcastic bitch who gets lucky. People seem to be drawn to entertainers, regardless of real talent. Loud, outgoing people get attention, and people want to be a part of that energy. I'm not so much funny as observant, not so much comical as caustic. People put up with my brand of "humour" because it appears to be cloaked in cotton, iron fist in velvet glove style. I'm short, fat and harmless-looking, those almost mean things I say must be funny. Nobody wants to be a killjoy, everyone wants to be seen as having a sense of humour, right?
During healthier, brighter times, I do tend to see the potential for humour in almost every situation I encounter. That's not necessarily a good thing, because good day or bad, my fine-tuned sarcastic wit is just a way of being "acceptably" aggressive.
I know this is a problem, but there is little I can do to change this behaviour, short of becoming an elective mute. I've tried, but sarcasm is second nature, and people laugh which is very rewarding.
I've reached the conclusion that I'm not a terribly likeable human being. Not a bolt of self-awareness that is especially welcome as I hit middle age.....
I'm funny, ask anyone. I keep people laughing, have always tried to, sometimes more successfully than others. Laughing people don't generally want to hurt the person making them laugh. At least not at the moment they are laughing. It appears that "being funny" comes naturally to me. Not so much.
What I am is a sarcastic bitch who gets lucky. People seem to be drawn to entertainers, regardless of real talent. Loud, outgoing people get attention, and people want to be a part of that energy. I'm not so much funny as observant, not so much comical as caustic. People put up with my brand of "humour" because it appears to be cloaked in cotton, iron fist in velvet glove style. I'm short, fat and harmless-looking, those almost mean things I say must be funny. Nobody wants to be a killjoy, everyone wants to be seen as having a sense of humour, right?
During healthier, brighter times, I do tend to see the potential for humour in almost every situation I encounter. That's not necessarily a good thing, because good day or bad, my fine-tuned sarcastic wit is just a way of being "acceptably" aggressive.
I know this is a problem, but there is little I can do to change this behaviour, short of becoming an elective mute. I've tried, but sarcasm is second nature, and people laugh which is very rewarding.
I've reached the conclusion that I'm not a terribly likeable human being. Not a bolt of self-awareness that is especially welcome as I hit middle age.....
posted by Alphamutt at 5:18 AM
1 Comments:
Well, this just proves that you can only find so much truth at 4 am :)
The thing is, you don't get to decide if you're likeable - the people who know you get to decide that for themselves. You can make your own decision about it, sure, but that doesn't make it a truth, it's just your opinion.
The reality is that you're highly likeable - not just likeable, but very lovable. Sarcasm is only funny if there is truth in it. It's only funny when it's grounded in intelligent commentary. Your type of humour makes people laugh because it gives us relief - it's a momentary break in the overwhelming flood of commercialism, political lies, tragedy, news stories that would never have happened if not for intolerance, greed or bigotry. Some of us seek truth because it hurts much less than all the BS. When we find those rare people that talk sense, it's a ray of light, a breath of air, something to strengthen us in the storm.
At 4 am on a bad night, the best judge of who you are is the nature of the people that care about you.
Post a Comment
<< Home