I seem to have quite a pattern emerging in these articles. I seem to swing from great emotional highs to incredible lows. I’ll write all about the positivity in the world and then follow up with how much I wish everything was slightly more flammable. I was trying to figure out why on my train ride in to work this morning.
When it’s hot out I feel uncomfortable and cranky, when it’s really cold out I’m irritable and cranky. When it’s 70 degrees and mild, I’m the sweetest flower you ever did smell. If I have to drive there, I’m cranky. If I have to walk there, I’m cranky. If there’s no beer, I’m cranky. If she won’t pay any attention to me, I’m cranky. Holy Christ! I’m a crank!
I’ve turned into a curmudgeon. I’m that old bitter man at the end of the block who yells at everyone for stepping on his lawn, which isn’t in that great shape anyway. And God forbid if a Frisbee lands in his yard, you’ll never see that again. (Although his Frisbee Folk Art is quite impressive) But enough about Frisbee’s!
I’ve got to remember that I’m only six months shy 35 years old. (Oh God, my life is over! Whoever will love me!?!) I’m the new 25 right? I’ve got a long life ahead of me and I should stop being such a crank. Yeah, it seems like that would be easy, but everything annoys me so very much. Seriously, I can hear your eyes scanning the screen and it’s very annoying. Can you please do that a little more quietly? Thanks.
Serious though, I am in need of an attitude adjustment. Sometimes I think the love of a good woman will provide me with the impetus to sally forth with renewed vigor and vitality. But the crank in me yells to sit down and stop shaking the boat, he’s fishing/drinking. I know he’s got a point though. No one can make me happy but me. And of course anything worth doing is never easy. So choosing to be happy is hard. It’s much easier to complain and moan about the injustices of life than to take an active role in their correction.
At the core, we must ask ourselves what would make us happy? I usually say money. Then someone says that money can’t buy happiness and then I say, shut-up. It totally can. Anyone living comfortably, with money and a job they enjoy and perhaps a sexy spouse and beautiful kids, they seem pretty god damn awful happy to me.
Actually, I still think that’s it really, “A job they enjoy”. The happiest people I know are super excited about their lives based on the type of work they are doing. Everything that falls into place afterward is gravy. If only I knew how. Then I could stop all this complaining and get on to the whole sexy spouse thing.
Oooh, what if there was a sexy patron of the arts who read my blog and decided it needed to be published and then I could write for a living and then she’d fall madly in love with me and we’d buy Greece and live life as it was meant to be lived, drunk on wine and sex.
Oh, right, realistic goals. Right. Dang it. Hey, get off my lawn!
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results-Just saying ya know
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