Spitefully Happy

“I like to write when I feel spiteful; it's like having a good sneeze”
D.H. Lawrence


Um...so according to Mr. Lawrence, this blog is my "sneeze" of sorts.I suppose writing is like sneezing...because sneezing and venting both serve as a terrific release, sort of like dancing it out. Okay-so here goes the illusive point...This is not the bubbling over with fiery red volcanic smokey, lava-like-spite I am addressing here. Rather than possessing full blown spite,in order to get the picture let's toss in just a pinch of stubborn...maybe a handful or twelve-full of hardheadedness (yes I know that is JUST like stubborn)...you catch my drift. So to call a spade a spade, a duck a duck, or a spite a spite-as the case may be...my MO is NOT vengeance but rather,to pull out all the stops to slyly, persuasively and if need be-ferociously prove my point of view when it is in regards to something I feel strongly about...or to disprove someone else's (only when absolutely necessary-as it is a bull in a china shop, stifling, maniacal point of view that attempts to stomp out all those in its oppressive path))...thus bringing the Napoleonic position to its' timely end with a Die-Hard style vengeance. Yippee ki-yay...you know the rest...tic-tic-tic-tic boom.

In this case, my obstinate nature is being applied to happiness and the spite that is created when I believe someone is trying to steal my happiness or the joy of someone else away. Optimism, or at least guarded optimism is crucial to me...and not always easily sought,found or maintained. Still, I believe that aside from extreme cases, "You're as happy as you decide to be".And I CHOOSE to be happy, giddy even (not in the in your face, "are you for real?" irritating sort of happy, but the subtly, quietly giddy extra foam, double shot in your latte brand of happy)-and I want you to be shiny with me...pretty please? Life is so much more deliciously worth the living that way,la vida dulce...as life was intended to be.

Unfortunately there are Gloomy Gus fun thieving-types (aka the previously mentioned dinnerware crushing oxen) out there who do not see things in quite the same sunny way that we do. They skulk and lurk around like ragey little storm clouds-thundering and rumbling. And they will not be satisfied to merely rain out their own pathetically sad parades, so they turn on yours. They derive immense pleasure (in the form of misery loves company) from raining on your pretty little parade as well. They view it as a petty victory of darkness over light. They want to get your goat...so don't let them have it. Hold tight to your goat and don't let go-so what if you get a little wet. You're wash and wear.

So as far as the sun robbing ways of the wet blankets go...I won't stand for it and neither should you. Put your stiletto strapped or work book clad tootsie down (your choice) and stand firm. But through the kind of action that silently screams volumes and/or razor sharp words if absolutely necessary, I tell them to "Pedal their pessimism elsewhere-I have no place to put it. Sulk and skulk don't go with my decor." Miserable doesn't fit between the beta bowl and the bust of Shakespeare.

*DISCLAIMER* This is not to claim that I never have dark,angst riddled Alanis-type moments where I want to lull around in despair while wearing too much black...but just for a few. That gets old lightning fast(ka-chow).

SO when those crabby clouds invade my space, they're forced to navigate my mile wide stubborn streak to get at my bliss-no one has ever made it across to the other side. You see, my day can find trouble all on it's own- I certainly don't need any assistance from the Oscar department.

And so we arrive at the destination spite. When there is the sense that someone is trying to tie their twelve ton attitude to my little red wagon-I revolt with unchecked, bubbly jubilation. Even if I "have to fake it til I make it"-which I often do. The more the monsters growl and snarl, the more I laugh and sing...maybe even toss in some *jazz hands*for flair. Nothing squashes doom and gloom like razzle dazzle. Eventually, though these trolls rarely change...they are sent packing...grumbling and rachus shmachus-ing to themselves, red faced and fuming. Try it-it really does work. And it is a win-win. You feel better and the nasty nay saying gnomes are sent packing. Sparkle is once again restored to pleasant-ville.

So there. My joy can beat up their glaring, unpleasant half empty and so can yours.

Heaps of coal, getting more bees with honey, what have you...Adios Angry Amos.

Aaa-chooo...

*Smiley Sigh* What do ya' know D.H.-I do feel better-thanks.

You?