An imaginary conversation between odd ducks

It made me a little sad to read that you found me intimidating.

Not you. Singing with you. You know I don’t find you a bit intimidating.

That might not be the most flattering thing you ever said.

You can’t be sad that I find you intimidating and also annoyed that I don’t. It’s incongruent. Incongruous. In-something.

I can be any way I want to be. It’s my prerogative as an odd duck.

Most of the people I love are odd ducks.

You are way more social than I am. Or maybe you just like people more.

Which says more about how unsocial you are than how social I am. Although you are really not all that unsocial.

I socialize all the time.

Me too. It makes me tired, though.

Introverts.

It’d be weird to be an extrovert. To actually need to be around people all the time. How would I ever get any reading or writing done?

You’d have to stay up all night. And I wouldn’t have any time for music.

Nope. Only golf and parties with the beautiful people.

You think I would party with the beautiful people?

Wouldn’t you?

Just my friends.

So. Consider what you just said there.

What? Oh, please. Don’t fish for compliments.

I like compliments.

I like that you just admit that you like compliments.

Anyyyyway. All I meant was that you are such a great musician that I just didn’t want to be horrible so I was a little nervous. I am NOT a great musician. And shut up. I’m not fishing for a compliment.

And I am not going to provide one.

Thank you. I am sorry I hurt your feelings.

It’s OK. You didn’t say anything that should have hurt my feelings.

Even so. I will attempt to atone in some way. I am terrible at apologies.

You are?

How many have you ever gotten from me?

I don’t know. None? Have you done a lot of things to me requiring apologies that I am unaware of?

Maybe. You should do some sleuthing and find out.

Is there a timeframe I should be looking at?

I don’t remember. We haven’t known each other that long. Only 35 years or so. You should be able to come up with something I owe you an apology for, and I would really like to get all of my atonement done at one time.

I’ll be sure to text you immediately. I wouldn’t want to cut into your atonement efficiency rating.

No. That would suck. I appreciate your willingness to help.

I’m not just anyone, you know. I am an exceptional human being.

You never could be just anyone.
Thank you for not trying to be!

An imaginary conversation about last words

I probably think about what happened more than I should.

About what?

I have last words on my mind. You know there was that thing last week. That really shitty thing that someone said to me.

Why are you thinking about it at all? It was shitty.

Right. It was. It was a kick in the guts, for sure.

It’s not like you weren’t expecting it.

What??? I absolutely wasn’t expecting it.

Why not?

Because he hasn’t ever said anything awful before…

He’s done shitty things all along.

Well. No.

Yes.

Disagree.

You’re nuts. Or more masochistic than you should be.

No.

Yes.

This was different.

No it wasn’t. You displeased the king, and he let you know.

No.

Yes.

He misinterpreted what I said. Or just assumed intent that I didn’t have.

Because he is a dick.

No.

Yes.

NO. He isn’t.

He said you make him sick. On what planet would that ever be OK??

None. None. None. But..

Seriously? What excuse could there possibly be?

I don’t want that to be the last thing we ever say to each other. That would suck.

He sucks.

No.

Yes.

No. Really. No. I don’t know why, but I don’t believe it. There is some reason.

No there isn’t. He is a cocksucker. Don’t overthink it. Judge by his actions.

But…

What! He has been a dick all along. Why are you making excuses for it?

I don’t know. Because. Because it seems like there must be something I don’t know.

You don’t know that he is a dick.

No.

Yes.

I don’t think he is. I know he is acting like one. It’s really pretty indisputable based on his actions.

So why are you still thinking about it?

Because it is important to me. I can’t stand the thought that the last words that we will ever say to each other are so awful.

But that is what he said. You can’t argue that.

No. I can’t. But did he mean it?

Why are you so sure he didn’t?

I am not. I don’t trust him. He has been unkind to me. He’s stood me up more than once. He has just disappeared for weeks at a time. He has acted like I am his own personal consolation prize…

So why are you giving it any thought at all?

Because. I don’t know. Because I really, really want to believe that he cares.

You have no basis for that. At all.

No, I don’t. Except for what he says, and I admit that I can’t trust him. But still. It is what I believe.

I don’t get it.

Me either. No one else gets these second, third, twentieth chances. No one.

Rightfully so.

Maybe. I don’t know. It’s what I think though.

Why is there even a scrap of doubt in your head about this?

Because I knew him when he used to be a Real Boy. And the Real Boy would never do anything to hurt me. Not on purpose. It isn’t my head. It’s my heart.

That was a long time ago.

I know. Still. I worry that the Real Boy is in there.

He doesn’t worry about you. Not even one tiny bit.

It sure doesn’t feel like he does. Still. There is something there, and it is really important to me.

There is NOT.

I just can’t bring myself to believe it, but I probably need to.

Definitely.

All I know is that those would suck as last words.

He should never have said them.

But he did. The words are out there now.

He can’t take them back.

And he won’t apologize. He thinks I deserve it.

He is a dick.

No. He just plays one on TV.

If he cared about you, he would be more empathetic.

Empathetic is not one of his attributes.

That’s an understatement.

Look–I don’t think I can explain it. Even to myself. What he said was completely unacceptable. Completely. I can forgive it, but not accept it…but I hate that those words would be the end. There has to be some more gracious way. Some way to salvage something. This is important.

Only to you.

I hope not. I don’t think so. I hope it isn’t all in my head.

You are just going to end up getting hurt.

I already am hurt. I would rather be hurt than find out later that there was some reason for all of this shit.

You are grasping at straws. Let it go.

I am. I am, but I need to know that I am letting go for the right reasons.

On getting out of the happiness mafia

I can’t tell one from the other
I find you, or you find me?
There was a time before we were born
If someone asks, this is where I’ll be,
–Talking Heads/This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody)

The Modern American World really wants us all to be happy. All the time. It all started with Prozac. Just being as happy as you were naturally wasn’t enough. You had to be blissful. Constantly blissful. Eternally smiling.

At first it was a minor barrage of anti-depressant “ask your doctor” commercials. Nothing against anti-depressants, I am pretty sure they may have gotten me through a year that I might not have come out of alive, but I do have a bit of ire about commercials for drugs. That’s a rant for another day.

Anyway, that is how I remember the start of it. What this article on Brainpickings.org refers to as the modern happiness industrial complex. There is a lot of pressure on people to be perpetually blissful. Pressure that until very recently did not exist.

People had other things to deal with. Getting the crops planted. Feeding the livestock. Burying their children and spouses who kept dying of inconveniently incurable diseases. Big stuff. Sometimes people were happy, I am sure, but mostly I am guessing they were tired. And hungry. Like they are in the parts of the world that are still un-Modern.

Given the choice, wouldn’t we all choose happy over sad? Most of us would, sure. Being happy is..happy. Who doesn’t like happy?

But what happens when you force feed yourself happiness to the exclusion of all other feelings? I think maybe, just maybe, you become less authentic.
What started as drug companies trying to create a new market for their product has become a nearly inescapable onslaught of happiness porn. The Internet seems to consist of equal parts cat videos and articles on how to be happy.

But maybe it is a trap, or at least not the right goal. There’s nothing wrong with happiness, but maybe what we need is to live an authentic life with all of the human emotions. Happiness, contentment, sadness, anger, melancholy. People who claim to be happy all the time? I don’t find them very believable. It seems like they are either suppressing their other emotions or just denying that they have them. I also suspect most of them aren’t really happy, either.

I could be wrong about all of this, of course. I’ve been known to be wrong about pretty much everything. On the other hand, I am mostly happy. Not always. There are some sad, difficult things going on right now. I probably spend a little more time crying and being overly introspective than usual. Still, I laugh a lot. I smile a lot. I enjoy most of every day. I love people. It isn’t perfect. Nothing ever is.

You have to find the thing that works for you.
It might not be a positive affirmation.
It might not be being in the moment
It might include being over analytical.
It might include some large doses of trash reading when your brain is tired.
Sometimes you might want to do some singing.
You might want to acknowledge that happiness won’t be there every second.
You might want to just tell the happiness mafia to fuck off.

It’s your happiness.
Do it however you want.

And what is so bad about melancholy anyway?

Where would most of the great movies, books and music be without the emotional drama of sadness, anger and betrayal? Not that I want any more betrayal in my life, please–but a cup of coffee and some bittersweet thoughts with a fire going and rain hitting the window? That’s not a bad thing. I like to think that periods of solitary melancholy let me recharge my happiness.

Or maybe I am deluded and I am doing it all wrong.

If I am, then I am doing it all wrong in a way that mostly suits me.
I can write out the worst of it, and laugh at almost all of it. Sometimes through tears if I have to.

Anyway, it’s Winter in Oregon.

It would be unnatural to have a sunny disposition all the time in the gray, cloudy, soggy Willamette Valley. I am blending in with my surroundings.

My laugh always gives me away though.