Tuesday, July 03, 2012


For such a sour, dour fella, I am one optimistic sumbitch.

I haven't always been this way — in fact, the c'mon-get-happy side of me didn't really emerge until last summer, when I became a stupid boy. And even though I've done my level best to kill that part of me, the happy boy refuses to die. He insists on trying to regain control of my life.

But I'm not stupid and I'm not a sap. The layer of cold inside me is deeper today than it was yesterday, especially after my pissed-off screed brought an equally pissy response.

Because instead of not saying what was on my mind, I let fly right back — and I was not kind. Nearly 12 hours after the fact and I'm still upset.

Not for saying what was on my mind — that was the only sane thing to do (it's not something I would have done without my new interior coat of ice, and definitely not something I would have dared to do before the stroke, so yay, stroke).

I'm upset because the stupid, happy boy inside me hates to bicker with the sunshine, with someone who understands me so well, perhaps too well.

I shouldn't be upset at being angry. Maybe I should just let the ice keep building layers over my heart. That would kill the stupid, happy boy for good. It would serve him right, trying to caper and scamper inside me.

But the optimist keeps winning the argument. Instead of Daucus carota I see Queen Anne's Lace. The few friends I have (left) are adamant that I should focus on the noxious weed and how it's bad for my environment. I just see the flower, the beauty in the weeds. 


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

see the flower all you want. it's not going to grow in your garden---just rocks there.