Context for this post:
What follows is an imaginative embellishment of the intense discomfort that trips me up when–having tried too hard–I succeeded only in making a (real or imagined) fool of myself.
Well hello, Whiskers…
Oh-oh, why today of all days…why here, why now?! This is not good, not good at all…I mean, me being me, it was bound to happen… but I kept telling myself that, by the time it did, we’d be the kind of friends who could say anything to each other….
Oh, shoot…that didn’t come out right….I’m not saying you ever have to fear saying the wrong thing! You couldn’t possibly! You’re utterly fantastic…a natural…and I gladly hang on your every word…melody….photo… painting…sketch…video…graffiti…street art…and, comic strip!
It’s just that, as I’ve (perhaps, too gently) warned you before, I’m a work in progress; so, although I’d give my right arm to put my best foot forward, what chance do I have now that I’ve stuck said foot in my mouth (homing-pigeon-toes, Achilles heel and all)!!!!
Although, if I’m being honest, I’m a seasoned hopper (practice makes perfect) and could have mitigated this humiliating (meet and) feet if I hadn’t tried to kick myself after the fact.
And–in much the same way one thinks of a clever response long after it serves any useful purpose–it occurs to me that I should carry a cream pie at all times.
That way, when I fall on my face, I could do so with Pee-Wee Herman (“I meant to do that”) panache….astounding one and all with my unrivalled gift for hilarity–while breaking the ice and my fall, simultaneously.
But, then I remember why I never do…I mean, how does one unobtrusively carry a cream pie without making a (Three Stoog-esque) spectacle of oneself?
Secondly, who am I trying to kid? Today, I’m having a hard time laughing with myself, never mind at myself.
But, just now, as I hear a wheedling tone creeping into my whine, one of my all-time heroes wrings a bell and I remember to suck it up…
Oh, Sponge Bob, such a darling! I mean, if anyone has a right to be self-absorbed, it’s he…yet, that yellow fellow is one of the world’s irrepressible optimists…
And, so are you, my friend; because, despite being led down this rocky road, you’re still here (‘such a saint 🙂 )!
So, the least I can do is help you understand where I went wrong, right?
(Warning: Here comes an obscure–M.C. Hammer–rap reference).
“Break it down…oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh…Stop, Hammer (out a metaphor) Time”.
Rather than getting bogged down in the marsh, I choose to be mellow. I’ll visit the pineapple under the sea, soak up the wisdom of smarty (Square) pants, and let my opening faux pas roll off my back like water off a duck’s…
Oops…okay, it’s clear I’ve missed the boat, and I’m treading in dangerous waters. But having learned my lesson, I’m reminded that when you find yourself digging a hole, stop digging…
So, given our newly-achieved comfort level, I’m going to choose transparency over trying too hard in that embarrassingly-vulnerable way of mine…and, to that end, here comes a Random Blurt Alert…
Truth is, I couldn’t find an organic way to playfully insert crackers and chocolate into the narrative….and, let’s face it, marsh was a stretch at best.…
Hey, wait…I confused Rocky Road (chocolate and marshmallow) with S’mores (chocolate, marshmallows and Graham crackers)—so, I only missed the mark by half…
Nope, gotta take that back, I forgot one of the ingredients…ah, nuts!
In retrospect, however, there is an upside. This drawn-out misstep definitely ushers, “Hello Whiskers”, into the merciful, rip-the-Band-Aid-off, category…painful but quick.
Not to minimize it, mind you! My astoundingly aaaaawkward (*uttered in falsetto*) salutation couldn’t be met with anything less than bewilder-ness—as in, “I am utterly lost…which garden path(ology) is Truly leading us down this time?”
However, in keeping with your generous spirit, might I suggest an alternate route…oh, say…“That Truly, comically quizzical as ever. 🙂 Surely there’s method in her rad-ness. I wonder what’s on her mind today.”
And—flashing a smile befitting the Cheshire cat auditioning for a toothpaste commercial—my response is, “I’m glad you ask”!
Ever happy to see you, I wanted, as is my custom, to greet you with a pet name….and, while alternative classics denote affection, Lassie is gender specific—as is Rex.
And, if I opened with, “Hello, Lucky”, my warm regard could easily be misconstrued as arrogance….Whiskers was a humble attempt to respectfully cover all bases…
And, yes…given the context, I needed to make the shift from pet name, in the literal sense, to that of–term of endearment–but, my thought process was arrested before I could do a game-changing 180.
You see, since I was late for our weekly get together, I worried that, feeling let down, you might’ve gone off me. So, when you did show up, I was caught off guard and trapped in a prison of my own making.
With only a moment to think, I wasted precious time visiting the What-If-?-Department stored in my head–where all manner of wears (on me) can be found…nothing rational, mind you…
But I couldn’t find the time to trust the clanging bells, sirens, and flashing-Lite-Brite warnings meant to steer me clear of the —- What-If-Stevie-Nicks-Stevie-Wonder?—-section.
Given another second for a second thought, I could’ve rejected the close-shave-ludicrosities found there; but, in a pinch(ed nerve), they become Einsteinian.
And, granted, when it comes to mental acrobatics, I am more limber than most (was there ever a more dubious distinction?); but, we are all susceptible to contorted thoughts under duress, aren’t we?
(If you could see me now, I’m giving you an imploringly-sheepish look—and, am counting on your desire to see the best in others….Although, under the circumstances, I suspect this expectation is further evidence of irrationality…)
But, fingers crossed–if I see a like, I’ll know you found a way to see me through my foggy thinking…(*sigh*).
And, is there any way you could hang in for one last…er…point?
Yeh?!? Wow…okay….but, just give me a minute to think, please.
(If my new friends haven’t seen “Hook” (Robin William’s version…where the inside joke is that Toodles has lost his marbles…a word-play/euphemism for losing his mind and happy thoughts), and “Hello Good Bye” (Canadian TV show where airport comings and goings are captured), I’m sunk!)
As I was saying, when panicked…well, quite uncomfortable will do…my mind becomes an airport. Shakily, I call out, “Toodles, Marbles”. And, I wave at my wits end–while my mind wanders off in a throng of confused and scattered thoughts.
However, I cling to the notion that it’s only matter of time before my mind comes to accept that–wherever we go, there we are. For, in that moment of lucidity, sanity will return to find that hope has hoisted me on its shoulders so I can be seen–flailing wrist propped up by my other hand–waving with the vigour of Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies.
So, that’s the hello of it…and here comes the goodbye….
I’ve done all I can to make the best of a bad situation…over-thinking aside, I hope what you remember is that I over-shared because I over care…and, that’s gotta count for something….
And, although my initial intention was to discuss and defend the following:
“Being positive doesn’t mean you live in Candyland. Positive people have real problems. They get angry, they challenge people and fight hard for what they believe in. Positivity is not about wearing rose colored glasses and rolling over when the going gets tough. It’s about being strong. It’s about being self-aware and accountable for your emotional state.” (collectivelyconscious.net)
I think we can all agree, Amazers, that—however clumsily—I’ve proven that optimism is not for the faint of heart…but, rather, for those who are willing to bare their souls…
God bless you; and thanks so much for being here…I’m so much better for it! 🙂
P.S. Here’s a shoutout for MOZALFA ILYAS; ILLUMINATED LITERATION; LIFESASMORGASBORD; BYINDIABLUE; GARY (Fiction Is Food); WHOIAMTODAY; CALL ME A DREAMER; DREAMS COME TRUE; ABBIE; RAISINGAGALAXY…they are absolutely wonderfully-lovely people and bloggers who were kind enough to comment on a my Bite Sizer about bawling about kindness…quite vulnerable for me to share, considering I wasn’t sure if it qualified for “too sensitive” status (I can’t stand that assessment…too sensitive…no such thing…).
They have absolutely wonderful things to share! Also, for paying me the highest compliment, I am including RESPECTABLE MARRIED WOMAN in this list.
P.P.S. The title made sense when I started writing—given that optimists are often viewed with suspicion, or as naïve, or as schmoozers etc.…but, it is so cute that–when my train of thought was derailed–I didn’t have the heart to reject it 🙂