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Don’t Have to Be Happy

I feel like our cultural places a huge importance on being happy all the damn time. It’s exhausting. I’m sure that there are people out there who can accomplish this. They are just naturally happy, and even when things go wrong they eventually bounce back to happy without much work. I really want to believe that people like this exist. However, I am not one of those people. In fact, I would say I go for days at a time without being truly happy. My status quo is not set at happy, it’s set at content. Or satisfied. When I’m not actively depressed that is where I hang out. I pop up into happy, but it is truly work to maintain happy.

For years I did that work. I tried my damnedest to maintain happy at all costs. Because of that, I often went from happy to flat out exhausted, followed by depressed because I failed at my endeavor. It’s only been a recent epiphany of mine that there is nothing wrong with being content or satisfied. There is nothing wrong with visiting the land of happy, but not setting up camp there. It’s like vacationing at Disneyland, but booking the Holiday Inn a mile away to save some money. It’s not the same, but there’s also nothing wrong with it. Ironically, it’s actually better in some ways because it removes the stress of an over-expenditure, allowing you to enjoy your time there more.

Heart Brain

This is what I have come realize, and I’ve embraced it. It works for me. However, I’ve discovered that there are still certain situations where I forget this. My birthday was this past weekend and I had a great time celebrating with friends. I had brunch with some friends, then later in the day met up with a different group to grab dinner and then go see a movie. Brunch was great. Dinner was a hoot. The movie, not so much. In fact, I hated it. And it came close to causing me a panic attack.

#1 – It was my birthday, and apparently my epiphany does not hold true on birthdays. If it’s your birthday, you are to be happy and like everything all damn day. No matter what!

#2 – I’m the one who chose the movie, so why in the world did I choose a movie that I hated? Clearly I am a moron who does not deserve to be happy.

#3 – See #1

Instant recipe for a panic attack! In my defense, I truly did think I would like the movie, but honestly, that is so far beside the point! Because I had set this insane requirement that I be happy with everything all day, instead of merely being disappointed that I didn’t like the movie, I practically had a mental breakdown, ruining the entire day. Now that makes sense! Looking back now, I can see that this is what happened. At the time, all I knew is that I was really upset, and all I wanted to do was go home before anyone caught on to how upset I was. If I wasn’t actually happy about everything, I wanted to at least maintain the illusion that I was. I didn’t succeed.

People caught on to the fact that I was not happy with the movie. So I failed on that front completely. However, I think it’s a good thing that I failed. Because while everyone was bummed that I didn’t like my birthday movie, the world didn’t end. It didn’t take away from the fun we’d had earlier that evening and it didn’t damper the big hugs that everyone gave me upon leaving. I was not happy for my entire birthday, and that was perfectly okay. It is okay if you aren’t happy all of the time. Even on your birthday.

Ending the Pity Party?

In a recent conversation, I found myself talking about pity parties. Namely, that I needed to stop throwing them for myself. In my defense, I have been dealing with chronic illness for over two years, my first overseas trip in a decade was plagued by illness – including fevers so high it made wearing a coat in England in January frivolous – and a broken little toe that may require surgery. So I’ve got some crap going on that warrants the occasional pity party. That being said, I do my best to stay positive. Please see previous blog post.

Pity Train

That means, that when I do throw myself a pity party, it’s not a long drawn-out affair. Generally, I give myself about an hour. For one hour I am allowed to bemoan all of the ills that have befallen me. All of things in life that are unfair, all of the times that I’ve gotten the fuzzy end of the lollipop and all of the opportunities that I miss out on because of all of the crap mentioned above. In essence, I get to be in a surly, shitty-ass, nothing-will-appease-me, stay-back-or-I-will-end-you sort of mood. At the end of the hour, I shake it off, let it go and move on with my day.

It’s quite refreshing, and lately has become more and more a necessity to maintain my mental health. Which I’ve been looking at as a problem. The inner dialogue looks something like this: “Why do I need this so much lately? What’s wrong with me? Why am I such a whiner? Buck up and get over it!”

Complaint Department

That’s a great inner monologue, right? Very healthy. This is what I was bemoaning in my recent conversation, when my whole view on the matter got turned upside down. My therapist (I try to only whine about stuff like this to people whom I pay to listen) posited an alternative way to look at it – “What was wrong with throwing yourself an hour-long pity party every week? Or even every day? That’s healthier than bottling it all up inside.”

What? How in the hell could feeling sorry for myself every day for an hour possibly be good for me? Think of all of the other things that I could be doing in that time. An hour a day. That’s seven hours a week. 28 – 31 hours a month. 365 hours a year. Why in the world would I spend over 15 days a year purposefully feeling sorry for myself? That’s ludicrous! Then she asked two more questions:

“Name the happiest child you know.”

I gave the name of a friend’s child.

“Ask that child’s parents if there is a time every day that the kid is impossible to deal with.”

Hyde Gif

She intended this to be homework, but as it so happened, this child’s mother and I had recently talked about this very thing. Like clockwork, this child goes from happy and bubbly to inconsolable every day around 4:00. Doesn’t matter where they are or what they’re doing, nothing will please this kid. Something that was a piece of cake at 10:00 that morning, will cause a complete breakdown at 4:00. Then after an hour or so, he’s back to his happy self. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Apparently this is something that well-adjusted children do. They store up all of their injustices and frustrations throughout the day, and then let them out all at once. They throw themselves a daily pity-party, and are happier for the rest of the day because of it. Huh? That actually makes a fair bit of sense. I still haven’t been able to wrap my head around it completely – probably because I’ve spent my whole life being told not to feel sorry for myself – but this might be worth trying. Who knows?



Do What You Can, When You Can

Over the years I have gotten pretty good about accepting the limitations placed on me because of medical issues. My diet is extremely limited, so I’ve learned to eat before going to group gatherings, to carry food with me, and to cook just about anything using substitutes for the foods I can’t eat. I figure it out and despite limitation continue to enjoy food. I’ve learned to work around injuries when exercising. Tendonitis in my ankle flares up, I do Pilates instead. Costochondritis (rib inflammation) flares up, drop the Pilates and embrace long walks. Break the living shit out of my toe, let’s do some leg lifts. I adjust, I modify, I keep moving.


My mental illnesses are a bit trickier, because they can’t always be planned for. But where I can, I plan. If I have a day filled with crowded spaces and constant interactions with people, I make sure I have a nice quiet evening at my house planned for that night. I have a light on a timer in my bedroom that turns on every morning to help simulate the sunrise. I keep lavender on my night stand to take if dreams wake me in the night, and I have gaba in my purse to take if I’m out and about and start to feel panicky. I accept my limitations and I work around them.

At least on my good days I do. On my bad days, I feel like I’m being betrayed by my body. I feel like there is some sort of conspiracy to prevent me from doing anything useful, or anything at all for that matter. Then I spiral down into self-pity and resentment and my depression kicks in and all I want to do sleep all day. But if I sleep all day, then I wake up and feel even worse, because then I REALLY didn’t get anything done. It’s a vicious cycle, and can feel never ending. At least that’s how it’s felt lately. So I’m adopting a new mantra. Okay, it’s not new at all, it’s actually well-worn, but I’m pulling it out of the closet and dusting it off.

What you can

I’ve been repeating this to myself a lot lately. When I feel like I’m not writing enough, creating enough, or moving forward in my career. When my dogs are bouncing off the walls with energy and I just want to take them on a nice long walk, but have to remind myself to let my foot heal so I don’t have to have surgery. And especially when I look at everything the current administration is doing and I want to take action, protest and make my voice heard, but some days the thought of even making phone calls is overwhelming. It is on these days that I am now saying to myself – Do what I can, when I can. That is enough.

That is enough.



Do Good

A couple of weeks ago, I came across a quote from Abraham Lincoln that really resonated with me. Okay, some argue that he didn’t say it at all, while others say that he was repeating what he had heard someone else say, and wasn’t actually speaking for himself. The semantics of its origin don’t really interest me, because for me it isn’t the speaker that makes the words powerful, it’s the sentiment behind them. So Abraham Lincoln or Joe Blow on the corner, or whoever else, I still like the quote.


“When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad.” How true are those words? They’ve really stuck with me. Then the other day I was in a bad mood, and just generally feeling emotionally crappy, when I realized that it had all stemmed from one thing. A couple of months ago we had this series of passive aggressive notes left in the restroom at work. They cracked me up, I wrote a blog post about it. Shortly thereafter, the notes stopped. Until last week, when a new one cropped up. The tone of said note, basically accused the women on my floor of not knowing how to properly flush toilets and leaving messes behind for those who came after.

Now don’t get me wrong, I hate walking into a stall and being confronted by the business of the last person that used it. Gross! However, the specific stall that this note was left in is a bit persnickety. If you don’t hold the handle down FOREVER it doesn’t flush completely. So if somebody doesn’t know this, it’s going to leave something behind. It has nothing to do with the person, it has to do with the toilet. For whatever reason, this note put a burr in my saddle, so I grabbed a pen and fixed the note so that it asked people to hold down the handle for several seconds instead of accusing full-grown women of not knowing how to flush. I may have been a little worked up and gotten a little snarky as well. I’ll admit it. Well this triggered somebody else (I don’t know if it was the original poster, or someone new) to respond back.


The next thing I know, I’m in a horrible mood, all because of this stupid note! Adding my own commentary to the note was out of character and I realized why it was out of character. That kind of passive aggressive bullshit makes me feel like crap. Which explains why my modus operandi is much more confrontational. When my neighbor’s set up a BBQ under my window and filled my apartment with smoke, I went downstairs and talked with them. When I heard through the grapevine that one of my coworkers was bitching to a supervisor about something that I did, I went to that coworker and asked him to please come to me if he had an issue with something that I had done. I don’t beat around the bush. If I want something I ask for it. If something bothers me, I bring it up. If I’m mad at you, trust me, you will know it because I will have told you that I am mad and why. That’s just how I work.

So sneaking around in a locked stall to leave a passive aggressive response on a passive aggressive note left me feeling like crap. Especially when I realized that there was nothing that I could do about it, short of leaving a note of apology to an unnamed person. While this thought did occur to me, I decided that I didn’t want to make myself a target to whomever had left the original note. So I didn’t do it, and just continued to sit and feel like crap for the rest of the day.


Now flash forward a couple of days, and I’m sitting at a bar waiting for my order and the bartender who helped me was swamped. She was running around like a crazy person. She had run out of things but was too busy to do a restock and the food orders for the customers around the bar kept coming out wrong. So she was swamped and a bunch of people were pissed at her. My food finally came out, and it was wrong. She apologized profusely and said that they would get it fixed ASAP. I told her no big deal, but then as she’s walking away, the guy next to me made a snide remark about the service. This poor woman’s entire body stiffened at this, because he had said it loud enough for her to hear, and the next time that she came over to our side of the bar, she had this obvious look of dread. I tried to catch her attention to smile, let her know that it was fine, but she just kept her head down, until the guy next to me left.

Which happened to coincide with my food coming back out, and being correct this time around. She was obviously relieved by this, and I started to chat with her whenever she came over by me to make a drink. By the time I left, I’d gotten her to laugh at a joke and actually smile. I felt great. I could have so easily been the guy next to me. I had stopped to get a quick bite to eat, so having to wait 10 minutes for them to remake my food was not in my plans. But instead of getting upset and expressing my displeasure to this women, I chose to sit back, watch the baseball game on TV and not worry about a 10 minute delay. I chose to do good, so I felt good. Go figure. Consider that a lesson learned . . . or reiterated I guess.



A Sea of Self-Loathing Tears

I feel like it’s a pretty universal truth that comparing yourself to others is the death of happiness. That being said, it’s hard not to compare and contrast your life to your neighbors, your coworkers, and your family and friends. It’s really damn hard on the bad days, when the self-doubt starts creeping in, to not look at your BFF, and think, “Damn! She’s got everything together, I suck.”

That’s damaging enough, but what I think is even worse, is comparing and judging yourself against the outliers. The novelist who hit the NY Times bestseller list at the age of 17. The entrepreneur who made a million dollars before their 25th birthday. You might as well pack up the shop and go home, because that comparison is going to wind up creating a sea of self-loathing tears.


Outliers are out there for a reason. They either have some amazing gift in their field, or just happened to be in the right place at the right time with the right idea. Or quite frankly a combination of the two. I’m not saying, there isn’t a good amount of work involved as well, but that hard work and determination met with some luck somewhere along the line. How else do you explain two people who work their asses off and one does okay, while the other one is a huge success? There’s got to be some sort of luck/right-place-at-the-right time thrown in there. So what good could possibly come from making that comparison? None.

Now I’m not saying that I’m crying myself to sleep at night because I’m not a Christopher Paolini. Far from it, I have a healthy respect for myself and the work that I’ve done. However, lately I’ve noticed that I’ve been making some pretty major comparisons without even realizing it. In talking to people about my search for an agent, I have lost track of how many times I’ve said, “Stephen King was rejected over a hundred times, before he was signed.” Which seems innocuous enough, it’s a way to set the bar for my own experience. But then it hit me. What happens when I hit 100 or 150 rejections? I’m already half way there, so those are plausible numbers. If you add to the count the number of agents who have ignored my query letter, I’m already there. What happens to my comparison then? If I surpass Stephen King’s number and still don’t have an agent, does that mean that I’m a failure? Does that mean that I’m nothing special, just one of the average masses?


Honestly, I don’t think it means anything. The world in which he was sending out queries is so completely changed from the world in which I am it’s like trying to compare apples to water buffaloes. There is no relevant comparison possible! Which brings me back to my first thought. Even if I step away from the outlier league and look at friends, coworkers and acquaintances, I have to come to the same conclusion. THERE IS NO RELEVANT COMPARISON. Each person has their own set of gifts and hurdles that they bring to the table. Clearly, those with only a handful of hurdles are going to get further faster. Clearly, those who realize immediately what their gifts are and how to use them are going to get further faster. Those who have a couple hundred hurdles and have had to devote a good part of their life to clearing them before they could even look at their gifts, well it’s no frickin’ wonder they’re just now showing up. Contrary to popular belief, they are not late to the party. They are not behind or a late-bloomer. They are simply running their race, the best that they can.

I think it’s high time that we realize that we each have our own race to run, and cut ourselves some slack when we don’t arrive at the same milestones at the same time as those around us. Myself included.



New-Age-Hippy-Dippy-Mumbo-Jumbo Crap

I was never one that believed in the power of the universe/earth/person to heal and be centered. Yoga, meditation, chakras, The Secret, good vibes/energy, karma, chanting, etc all fell under the category of New-Age-Mumbo-Jumbo-Hippy-Dippy Crap. I realize that some of that is actually very old and not new-age, hence the ‘mumbo-jumbo’ or ‘hippy-dippy’ classifications. I thought it was ridiculous and therefore discounted all of it, and quite frankly anyone who practiced it. I didn’t believe in it, so it couldn’t possibly be beneficial. For those who don’t know me well, this is not because of a strict adherence or belief in a western religion. I didn’t believe in any of those either. I was what you would call a consummate non-believer.


As I have gotten older, my non-believer status has definitely been disturbed. Mostly due to the fact that my Western medicine doctors have prescribed for me yoga and meditation. Out of all of the drugs on the market to treat every ailment under the sun, my doctors prescribed this. (As it turns out, I have very good doctors.) I grumbled and bitched, but eventually I tried it. I spent my first yoga class, thinking, “This is stupid. I hate yoga.” But I did it. I also meditated, and for a good long while those sessions were spent with me telling my brain to, “Shut up already, I’m meditating here!” Needless to say, neither of these activities were especially useful at the beginning. I thought it was stupid and so it was stupid.

Then something curious happened. The more I did it, the less stupid it felt and the less stupid it felt, the more my anxiety went away. As my anxiety went away, the nightmares decreased, and as the nightmares decreased, I actually started to get some sleep. Let me tell you, sleep is a glorious thing! I didn’t necessarily increase the amount that I did yoga or meditated, but I stopped thinking of it as stupid. I acknowledged the benefits of each practice. Then I started to practice gratitude, I sent my wants and desires out into the universe and learned about the chakras. All of mine were blocked, go figure. I even made myself a chakra balancing necklace with a representative stone for each chakra. Funny coincidence, the two stones that represent my most blocked Chakras are the two stones I have always been drawn to – the majority of my jewelry contains either peridots or garnets. I’m thinking coincidence isn’t the right word there.

In other words, I’ve gone from a non-believer to a meditating-chakra-balancing-good-vibe-heal-thyself-yogi who is more curious as to what you’re grateful for than what you do for a living. I’m still not entirely sure how this complete reversal took place, it kind of snuck up on me, but I’m much happier and healthier now that it has. Hit me up if you want a chakra balancing necklace/charm. I have no idea if it actually works, but it makes me feel better. So there ya go. Okay, I lied. It’s not a complete reversal. I still dislike yoga. Namaste.

Okay, I like this part.

Okay, I like this part.

Waiting for the Shoe to Drop

A friend and I got into a conversation the other day that has lingered with me. We were discussing how both of us have trouble relaxing and simply enjoying life when things are going well. Those moments when you realize that there are no crises, no fires to be put out, and all of your plates are spinning happily along. Neither of us are able to truly enjoy those moments because we are waiting for the other shoe to drop. We are waiting for a catastrophe to descend. Which is a pretty bleak outlook on life. And it’s not that either of us are pessimists, or suffer from anxiety. Far from it.

What we do have in common is that both of us had troubled childhoods where we were required to deal with situations way above our maturity level. And deal with these situations on a regular basis. Carefree is not an adjective used to describe either of our pasts. So it’s not that we are pessimists, it’s that our experience tells us that the other shoe WILL drop. Moments of peace and simplicity were often masks for something bubbling up under the surface that would blow at any moment. Therefore, neither of us trust ‘good times.’ In our experience, good times generally end badly. It’s not anxiety, it’s what life has taught us.

Charlie Brown

So the question becomes, how do you reteach yourself that good can be just that – good? Nothing more, nothing hiding underneath. In essence, how do you teach yourself to enjoy being happy? I feel silly even typing that. Who doesn’t enjoy being happy? I’ve come to realize that the answer to that question is, me. Being happy makes me uneasy. I’m sure many other people as well, after all, no human experience exists in a vacuum. So how does one go about the re-teaching process? I’m not really sure, but I came up with some ideas.

  1. Stop actively watching for the shoe to drop. One will drop eventually, but I don’t need to expend energy anticipating and planning for it. I have plenty of tools at my disposable for dealing with it, when it happens. No prep needed.
  2. Find things and do them simply because they are good for me and make me happy. They need hold no other benefit.
  3. Repeat, “I am allowed to be happy and I deserve good things,” on a regular basis.

In fact, I might just write that last one on my mirror at home.

Good things

By Gemma Correll

A Tale of Two Days

Every so often I am reminded of how far I have come. How much more positive and mentally healthy I am. I had one of those stark reminders this weekend. My Saturday went to pot before I had even finished my first cup of coffee. Yet, by the end of the day, everything had managed to come around in my favor. Whoo! Even so, if I had had this day 7 or 8 years ago, the exact same sequence of events, it would have been a drastically different day.

Two Days

I don’t know about you, but I prefer present day Kat’s view on things.


Surround Yourself with Honey

While at a dinner party this past weekend, a friend and I got talking about the basic principle that you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. In essence you can get more by being nice instead of an asshole. Then this turned to our observations that here in LA that when you treat some people with respect – namely those in the customer service industry – they are taken aback because the gesture is so completely unfamiliar to them. Both of us found this mind-boggling. I mean we’ve both seen it enough that we weren’t blown away by its existence, but just by the sheer fact that there are so many people out there who operate on a daily basis with such vitriol. Neither of us could understand that. I still don’t. Life is so much better when you surround yourself and work with kind people.


Then as if the universe were sending me a test, I woke up the next morning and checked my email to find a rather disquieting message. Before heading out to the dinner party the day before I had sent several messages to publicists to try to get a better idea of what a publicity campaign for a book launch would not only look like, but cost. At first I was thrilled to see that I already had a response from the publicist that had looked the most promising to me. However, when I opened the email, I found this first paragraph:

“You’ve told me absolutely nothing about your novel other than its historical fiction due out in October. So I visited your website and there’s nothing there either. There’s really nothing to chat about at this point. It’s like sending a resume with no information about your job history and wanting to talk to an employer about hiring you. Maybe I missed something on your website but I looked around and could not find a link about your book. If your book is due out in October, now is the time to be contacting reviewers and bloggers. So not only should you be hiring a publicist now, your blog/website should have a lot of information about your book.”

Right off the bat, I had several concerns.

  1. I have no idea how she meant it, but it came across to me as confrontational, which I did not appreciate.
  2. The resume bit – last I checked I was looking to HIRE someone to fulfill a service for ME. I wasn’t aware that I needed to sharpen up my interview skills and prove myself worthy.
  3. If I’m looking to hire a publicist, then one might assume that I don’t know enough about publicity to run my own campaign. Therefore, how would I know that I already need info about the book on my website and that I need to be connecting with reviewers right now?
  4. “So not only should you be hiring a publicist now,” – that’s what I’m trying to do lady. Maybe give me some props for knowing that much?

Needless to say, I did not respond right away. To be completely honest, the email made me upset and I needed to cool down. Then an odd thing happened. I started to explain away and excuse her behavior. Maybe I should have included more information about my book in my initial email? Maybe finding a good publicist is competitive and I do need to compete for their business? Maybe I should have done more research on publicity before reaching out? Maybe I’m the one that screwed up in the exchange and her reaction was totally justified, after all according to her website she’s really good? Wait, what? I was actually thinking this shit! This person first made me upset, and then I made myself feel like I deserved it.

WT Actual F

How the hell did that happen? Wasn’t I just talking about how I didn’t understand behavior like this? Wasn’t I just talking about how I didn’t have room in my life for people that treated me this way? Aha! That’s when I had an epiphany. There are other publicists in the world, I don’t have to work with this woman if I don’t want to. I especially don’t have to pay her money to work with her. I don’t care how good she is, I don’t want to work with someone, or have them representing me, if they feel treating people in that way is acceptable. Not just acceptable, but a legitimate way to conduct business. No thank you. I can still learn from her – build out a page on my website for my book is now firmly on my to-do list – but I do not have to work with her.

It took me about a day and a half to figure this out, and shortly thereafter I received another email from her that was much less confrontational and asked question about my book and actually told me a little bit about what she does. In other words, this should have been the first email she had sent, and had I not had the epiphany, I probably would have written her back and had we wound up working together, the entire experience probably would have been like those first two emails, over and over again. Instead, I responded back to her that I had decided to go a different way with my publicity needs, and I thanked her for her time. Done and done and holy crap did I feel better afterwards.jerk whisperer

Not two hours later, I received an email from one of the other publicists I had contacted. Mind you, with the exact same minimal information as I had provided to this first lady. This new publicist’s email was warm and inviting, thanking me for my interest in their firm. She provided an attachment that detailed different book publicity packages that they offer and said that she looked forward to speaking with me and possibly reading my material in the future. Huh? The exact same information with two polar-opposite responses. Yep, I definitely made the right choice. Thank you universe for that affirmation. Needless to say, I’m talking with this second firm.

Surround yourself with honey, people. Life is too short for vinegar. Not to mention, vinegar has sulfites and I’m allergic to that shit.

Blows My Mind

I have this co-worker who constantly complains about people leaving the kitchen “A Mess!” This can be anything from leaving the microwave door open, to leaving things on the counter, to spilling/dripping something on the counter/floor and leaving it there. There are two things about this that cracks me up. First, he’s not the one that has to clean it up. I am. Despite this, he’s the one that bitches about it, and he’s generally bitching about it to me. Good times, right! The second thing, is that he is guilty of doing all of these things himself. It cracks me up! I know that when people don’t like something about their own personalities, they usually nit-pick and hate it when other people do the same thing, but this is a little extreme.


Yesterday I was eating my lunch in the kitchen when he came in to prepare his own and then returned to his office. He left the microwave door open, paper towels on the counter and the sink dripping. I can understand overlooking one of them, but all three? I put everything right, but I really wanted to leave it as is to see if he would complain about it later. Then I started to wonder if he walks into his own kitchen at home – he lives alone – and starts bitching about the fact that the microwave is open and there’s crap left out everywhere? He isn’t crazy or anything, but part of me thinks that he does. I really don’t think that this guy is happy unless he has something to bitch about.

As much as his behavior cracks me up, it also blows my mind. I really don’t understand how people can go through life focusing on solely the negative things. I don’t get it. This guy will consistently bitch about something he has to do for 5-10 minutes, and then I’ll suggest a solution that nets the same outcome, without having to do the action he didn’t like. Guess what? He will immediately say that he doesn’t really mind, he’s happy to do it and then he goes off and does whatever it is he was bitching about. Which begs the question – IF YOU DON’T MIND AND YOU’RE HAPPY TO DO IT, WHY ARE YOU BITCHING IN THE FIRST PLACE?!?!


Either it’s no big deal and you’re happy to do it, or it’s so horrible it’s worthy of complaining about. It can’t be both! Unless of course, you are simply complaining because that is the only way that you know how to interact with the world. That is a sad statement. I don’t know why, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about that, and paying close attention to my own reactions to things. I don’t think I really complain all that much – unless of course you include the thoughts in my head for the first hour or so after my alarm goes off. Although really that’s more whining than it is complaining and frankly I think it’s justified. If my body wanted to get up that early I wouldn’t need the alarm! At any rate, it might come across as naïve or sappy, but I’d rather go through life as Little Miss Mary Sunshine than a bitchy storm cloud.