Man, how do peppy people do it? I was struck by this thought, because I finished the book I was listening to in the car and have been listening to the radio all week. Take radio hosts Eric and Kathy. Those guys are *always* funny. Granted, their show is only (only?) four hours or so, but that's a long time to be "on" if you can’t poop or some moron without insurance rear ends you at a stoplight. Note, I’m not talking about death, divorce or illness here. That's a whole different class of emotional anxiety. I'm talking about all the annoying shit that rolls downhill on the same day that your garage door got frozen to the pavement and the cat puked on your pillow.
Makes me realize how much I could NOT make it in radio, stand-up, motivational speaking, or even driving an ice cream truck. Actually I worked at the local Dairy Queen in high school, and it was hell, so it's not like this is any great revelation, come to think of it. (Though people can be real assholes when it comes to their junk food, so I think my occasional surly attitude was justified. "I got your sprinkles right here, pal, now move along!")
But seriously, how do some people stay chipper all the time? Is my psyche that flawed that a boss' snotty email or a friend's slight puts me into a bit of a funk? I know, I know, happiness has to come from within. Blah blah blah. That just seems a little ridiculous for our species though. If that were the case, we wouldn't need people like Ellen or Gloria Estefan. Just how, exactly, do I get me a piece of that perpetual perkiness? Just a little piece. So when life gives me lemons I can make a Harvey Wallbanger too.
Driving to work (while trying to ignore the *oblivious* idiot in front of me who was traveling a good 7 m.p.h. below the speed limit -- during rush hour – and totally screwed up any opportunity to turn left on a yellow light), I started tallying a list of all the professions that would *not* be right for me. The list was pretty long. Things like customer service of any kind and airline stewardess are kind of obvious. But I'm pretty sure counselor (camp or otherwise), sales rep, and possibly even mom might be a mistake.
On the other hand, circus clown (if I could be sad sometimes), sommelier (because I *can* be a people person when I drink) or personal trainer (isn't a little gruffness expected?) I think I could handle. It's just a little disconcerting to take stock of your mid-life options and realize you’re disqualified from so many. And does one accept, try and change, or just take a nap?
I'm always up for a nap. And thankful reflection toward The Big Out There for putting these happy people in our midst. The cute Hispanic boy who cashiers in the cafeteria where I work and always smiles and cuts me a deal on the soup because I bring my own bowl; Ira Glass; my favorite Chinese coworker, even if I don't know what the hell she's saying half the time; Santa and certainly Dolly Parton.
('Course, too much of a good thing would get annoying. Which is why we also need the wry, the sarcastic, and the observant people out there like David Sedaris; Dooce, my best friend Linda; Addi; and sarcastic gay guys who judge. I'm hoping to find or fit into the balance of it all. I think that's going to be important in the end.)
Addendum:
Maybe sad clowns should be illegal. Oh, they may be some form of art, metaphorically expressive, whatever, but what do they really offer to a civil society? They are creepy and make people uncomfortable. Am I right? Yet we don't allow other stuff that makes us uncomfortble, do we. Pot is still illegal, because lawmakers fear that unleashing legal (and taxable!) weed would somehow be worse than 3 kegs at a frat party. And, legalizing it makes people uncomfortable. Gays still can't get married because "religious people" are stupid enough to believe that their ignorance about human sexuality (not to mention Christ) justifies discrimination. And it makes people uncomfortable. So we can't have that. But we allow sad clowns to walk among us.
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