Or, Better living through Chemistry
Like any 'normal' human, I know about saddness. Two or three days ago I learned about the saddness, unsung, of the Christian Holocaust during the CCCP's existence. I have witnessed, seen and photographed, poverty so grinding that to weep would have been insulting; it was either drop dead in mortal consternation or pretend it was just another day at the 'office.' (Email me if you'd like to know about this particular 'office.')
I was once handed a six month old Down Syndrome baby and asked for advice on how to cure her. That's not actually correct, but the truth sounds too weird. I wasn't asked for advice, I was asked to effect a cure. Pretty rugged stuff, huh?
But just now, not three minutes ago (I type very quickly) I almost wept because of the saddness, the tragedy, the hideous awfulness of dealing with someone with no sense of humor. Zip, zero, nada, naught. A yawning void where others bubble, in differring amounts, with light-hearted amusement, good cheer, and yes, even happiness. (I don't just bubble, I overflow, I cascade, I erupt (in both sexual and non-sexual modes) happiness. Hey, it's all in our genetic chemistry and the Bell Curve.)
I called an office to confirm an appointment tomorrow. When I was put through to my contact, with whom I've previously spoken and who was supposed to have called back 55 minutes before I called her, I said, "Pearl, wazzup!" I said it in a light hearted, song in my heart voice, way. Her response was, "Huh?" And it was heart-felt. I apologized and explained that since it was almost the end of the work day, I'd allowed a little levity to intrude, and that I'd been mimicking that standard greeting of today's youth, and a certain brand of beer drinkers. Again, the light hearted voice. I'm huge on light-heartedness!
But she reacted as if I'd been reading some Dow Jones closing market prices for October 13, 1929. Or maybe she thought I was reading names off the Vietnam Memorial. That would have explained how lifeless and devoid of cheer she sounded.
We went on to finish our business, and never once did she show even a spark of good cheer. Not a shred of bubbleliness, and just the barest spark of being alive....
When I put the phone down, the soul-sapping saddness of Pearl's life was cut off and I could feel the hole she'd torn into my soul, through which she'd been robbingme of my life force, begin to heal. Wow, talk about closure!
There is no way in Hell that anyone like that would EVER read a blog, so I think it's safe to say that you and I are safe from her, and her kind, here. All hail the WWW.
And did you know that numbered URLs are all the number of the Beast? Says so in the Bible!
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4 comments:
NSH is a sad affliction and you should not make light of this woman's malady. This disease is closely related to LOAFB, for which there is a pill now (for those of us who are subjected to these people.)
Everything has an initial now. I'm in the dark as to what it all means.
I'm old enough that it was okay to acknowledge that a person was disagreeable, whether she had pms, or he had what we used to call a bad temper (anger management issues), or everybody had both. Now we can be grateful that there are pills to eliminate all that, but sorting out the meds can cause multi-tasking disorder.
In the meantime, what exactly are we allowed to make light of?
Your Nibship, I love the dichotomy of science seeking a pill for those who hate to take pills.
Fair Hope, the only limit I recognize when it comes to making light is whether or not it will get me punched in the mouth. So you can imagine my delight with the internet.
Yo! Bananas man! Amen to your last comment.
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