Humor

Laughter

When I started writing here, I was in a pretty dark place.  I really needed an outlet for my emotions, and the written word has always served as a relief for me.  This was a medium to talk myself through the crisis of the day, and even laugh at how trivial or ridiculous my “crises” are.  Ultimately, writing was supposed to be the place I went when I needed to laugh at myself, and I wanted other’s to laugh with me.  Or at me.  Whatever.  We don’t have to delve into the semantics of humor right now.   Point being, writing was therapeutic because I could always crack a smile by the end of the story.  And let’s be honest, I’m fucking hilarious.  That and things like shattered glass doors and bald tires and three feet of grass in the back yard need to be laughed at.  Because they are all a part of life.  And because life needs to be laughed at.  Essentially, this small corner of the internet was the perfect vehicle to remind me not to take everything so seriously. 

What happened to the laughter?

I laugh a lot.  I have been counseled in the workplace on several occasions about laughing too much and too loud and too often.  But usually, those counseling sessions end in laughter.  Again.  There’s all that biological data on how laughter is releases endorphins and makes you feel better and it really is the “best medicine.”  That’s not bullshit.  We all want to surround ourselves with people who make us smile, and with people who we can make smile in return.  Laughter saves us from ourselves.  It saves us from being too serious or self-involved.  Laughter saves lives.  So, what happened to mine?  And what happened to my humor?  Where did all that go?  It’s gotta be somewhere.  Because you don’t just go from being hilarious to being devoid of all humor.  You just don’t.  So, where is my laughter?  Anyone? 

“Keep your head up…It’s all going to work out.”

I love clichés.  Even though I was taught, in no less than 20 college English and Communications classes, that they have absolutely no literary or academic value, I think that they serve a purpose.  They are very reflective of reality. They wouldn’t be cliché if they weren’t.  With all of that said, I have heard every cliché for staying positive recently.  “You have to keep beating the pavement, Angela.”  “You aren’t the first person this has ever happened to.”  “If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll only make you stronger.”  And my new personal favorite:  “It’ll all be alright in the end.  If it isn’t alright, it’s not the end.”  Now, on the receiving end, I FUCKING hate cliché.  They make me want to scream profanities at the people I love so dearly who are trying vehemently to help keep me from drowning in my own self-pity.   That’s why I don’t scream at them.  Because they love me despite all of my wallowing and hopelessness.  And, truth be told, I need that.  I need people to tell me to “get back on the horse” or “you aren’t a quitter” or “if anyone can do this, you can.”  If I didn’t hear it, I might actually give up.  Or I might forget that there are people I love who need me as much as I need them.  And hearing cliché is better than hearing the despair and helplessness in the voices of the people I love the most when they have to tell me “I really don’t know what to say.”    

So, why did the chicken cross the road?

To get to the other side.  After all, the grass is greener over there.  See, that was joke and cliché all rolled into one captivatingly witty remark.  You may now marvel at my knack for the written word and my gift for restating that which has already been said.  But seriously, that’s all I’ve got right now.  It’s really bumming me out.  I’m not funny.  I don’t laugh a lot.  I just kind of sit here and think about how I’m probably a contender for most pitiful existence ever.  But that’s kinda not how I roll.  And it makes me feel really uncomfortable.  And it’s very unbecoming.  Actually, it’s pretty pathetic.  And more importantly, it’s interfering with my life as a comedic genius.  So, as my eternal quest for inner peas continues, I’m just going to do less.  Think less.  Worry less.  But I’m also going to do more.  Laugh more.  Love more.  Because as my mom likes to remind me daily “worrying won’t get you anywhere, Angela.  Usually, it’s followed up by some quote about love and laughter being our most precious gifts.    

I think I’ve exhausted the clichés for this evening.  More to follow…accompanied only by laughter.