You’re looking at a photo of my profile. My chin rests on not my own hands, but the hands of a friend. In the background, another friend looks on, laughing.
I’m a true-blue introvert, but there are times when I can’t resist hamming it up. I’ve never been at ease with the idea or practice of selfies either, so if you’re going to visit this blog, you’d better get used to things like snapshots of my head glued to a paint stick, or nestled within the hairy arms of a stranger or friend. (Not that I’m suggesting Dan’s arms are too hairy. They are supple. Like I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter, which you shouldn't eat under any circumstance.)
And while you're at it, prepare for loads of bad clipart, too. (For good clipart, visit your local craft store. Just not Hobby Lobby. Because, well, they’re a bunch of sanctimonious, macrame-ing pricks.)
The point is, I try not to take things too seriously, or maybe even when I am taking things too seriously, I make every attempt to pause. Then mock myself. Then laugh. I find laughter has a way of soothing, even if the giggles are fleeting or sometimes wildly inappropriate.
Given the state of our nation, and in three painfully short days, the imminent doom of the planet, it’s becoming more difficult to locate the funny bone or pinpoint the silver lining. Despite our present and (insert sobbing) future reality, I’ve decided I’ve no choice but to keep panicking and snarking on.
"Be more positive!"
Somebody I know said optimism was their New Year’s Resolution for 2017. I’m sad to say I can’t remember who. If you’re the awesome “who,” and you happen to be reading this, don’t be shy. Speak up. Shout it from the rooftop or your cubicle near-ish the rooftop. Because if nothing else, your goal impacted and motivated me, a gal who typically resolves to avoid resolutions.
If Obama can embody hope, so can I. Or I can at least believe I can. For around four-thousand three-hundred and twenty minutes ... or two-hundred fifty-nine thousand two-hundred seconds. (Thanks, Google. And oh, Thank You, Obama. No joke.)
Laughter probably isn’t more curative than penicillin, but I’m going to do my best to deliver frequent doses of it here anyway. If I fail, I figure I fail striking my best pose: be-smirked.
And be-smirked is so much better than besmirched. (Really. Look it up.)
|Here you go. You're welcome.|