Optimism Backfires and John Selefried

In my everyday optimism I am generally happy and I generally believe everyone else is happy. However as I have stated before, this can backfire quite dramatically. For instance, one morning, on a particularly happy day. I needed to get to school early to refresh my mind with some required reading. I am very organized and leave a full 20 minutes early, quite the accomplishment for me! My husband is extra happy and helpful and even carries my coffee to the car. I give him a friendly wave as I pull out of the driveway and head down the street. Such a lovely day.

As I turn the corner I pass a woman with two dogs on the side of the road. Now, I am living this trying-to-be-nice-and-optimistic thing and I often find that I think others are doing the same. So when she waves at me, I give her my biggest brightest smile and enthusiastically wave right back. (Like a really big wave. Not the couple of fingers Texas wave. Like, the homecoming queen/cheerleader wave.)  I drive on and smile a little to myself at all of the happiness and love in the world.

 As I drive another ten yards I think ‘Hang on, that wave looked slightly frantic to be friendly.’

Another ten yards. ‘Hang on, she was on the ground.’

 Another ten yards ‘and those dogs were circling.’

 I screech to a halt and do a u turn. By the time I make it back the woman is complaining to a very frail old man about the ridiculous woman who waved and drove past. She does a double take as I walk up. I try and put my body between her eye line and my car hoping that she does not put two and two together.

They ask me to call 111 on my cell phone which I do; thinking it is odd that neither of them have a cell phone. I take a look at her leg It does not look good. She says, ‘I think I have broken my ankle’. The emergency operator says that it may take up to an hour. The woman wails. I try and keep her calm. Apparently, I am terrible at keeping her calm because she ignores me and pulls a cell phone out of her pocket. She proceeds to call everyone she knows to tell them the news.
Now, I am looking at my watch thinking ‘Great. Now I will be late.’ And ‘I thought she didn’t have a cell phone...’ So much for being an optimist/nice person. In the space of twenty minutes I have gone from the nice friendly neighbor to the grumbling  version of the stereotype of a New Yorker, at least my stereo type. (I have always thought of New Yorkers as some of the most kickass people in the world. Like, if there ever really was a super hero, he/she would definitely come from New York but because of this, they scare me ever so slightly. But still, I would like to be one, or at least see one for real some day. I figure, if I can get one of them to stop walking so fast, I could get their autograph and then run away and hide. This would serve several purposes; First, this New Yorker would spend the next few days wondering which famous person they looked like. And second, I would get an autograph from a random New Yorker. Which then works brilliantly because when I tell people I have John Selefried’s autograph, everyone will be so impressed. Because they will think they should know who John Selefried is and will be too afraid to ask because, clearly, I am more sophisticated and get autographs from people like John Selefried. If they press me, all I will have to say is ‘You know... John Selefried... from NEW YORK.’ And then I will do that thing with my eyes, make them real wide and nod knowingly and they will spend the rest of the party telling everyone I have John Selefried’s autograph. Then they get to look all sophisticated and cultured because they know who John Selefried is and no one else does. It is just hours of endless happiness and entertainment!)  

By-the-way I did not just leave her there. I left her in the capable hands of a neighborhood doctor and my husband and continued on my way. I spend the first half of my drive to school pondering my grumpiness and the second half pondering the implications of an hour delay of an ambulance... like death. Sometimes I hate it here.  

Sex and Evil Shirts

I have been told that the novel I am working on needs more sex… Really? Does it really?  Aren’t we all a bit over it? I have had enough of being suffused in grady sex (yes - that is a word; check my dictionary included above). I am sick of it! It is everywhere. Can't we just get on with the story please?
Now don’t get me wrong - I am all for a good kiss now and then, (I reserve the right to discuss kissing at length later but I feel it will distract from the amazing airtight argument I am having here), and we could all use a bit more love in our lives. But let’s be honest, we all know what goes on during sex. We don’t need to talk about it in any great detail do we? Do we?

I have had enough. I like sex, don’t get me wrong. But do we need to know all the ins and outs, so to speak? I mean we all know it is NEVER like it is in the movies or on TV.  It is probably because I have been doing too much catching up on Grey’s Anatomy episodes lately but, how on earth can you sleep with so many people? I mean, I realize they are all gorgeous but, seriously! We all have insecurities about our bodies; how can you just get over that, with EVERYONE. I mean, why don’t they just save time and start treating people naked. It would save so much time. They could just do surgery and then have sex right away, no passionate tearing off of clothes or anything. Which by the way is also NOT as great as it looks on TV! Your hair almost ALWAYS gets caught when you try to yank your shirt off and I tend to panic if I can’t get my shirt over my head in one fluid motion. I mean you never really know… this could be the day your shirt is actually trying to kill you… (Shirts really should not be trusted. I have been caught in more than one in my life. They are shifty and tight in all the wrong places. ) What if you are trying to be all sexy and ripping clothes off and today REALLY IS the day your shirt tries to kill you!? 

And what is all this slamming against walls? That could hurt you know, which is just distracting. How can you be like “Oh yay! Sex! Ouch, you just slammed me into a wall! Hey! Now my back hurts.” It just doesn’t work.

Not to mention all these people having sex on counter-tops and dinner tables. I mean, come on! You know you will just have to clean that later. And thinking about NOT cleaning that later, makes me throw up a little in my mouth.  And what is sexy about thinking how gross this is and how you are going to eat dinner there later. I mean, maybe it is a new diet technique. Most of these people are pretty thin, so maybe they just never eat again. I guess that could work?? But really, if you are going to have sex, you should really be thinking about sex and not about how gross it is to have your butt on the dining room table. Personally I don’t even think people should be sitting on the couch without at least underwear on, so let’s just keep the naked stuff to the bedroom and the bathroom.

So to sum up to my critics, I am NOT sexually repressed. I just think everyone should be having SAFE sex. Safe from STD’s, safe from “not ready to be pregnant”, safe from injuries, safe from germs and MOST IMPORTANTLY, safe from the ever-present threat of death by shirt. (That’s real you know! They are out to get us, wandering around with their beady, button eyes and ending up in the laundry basket when you are sure you haven’t worn it this week. Just DON’T trust them is all I am saying… especially turtle necks... you know they are the leaders of these devious gangs, always ready to strangle you while pretending to be all warm and nice... just don't trust them. Yes, you should definitely wear them, but see? That is where they have us trapped.... like a dictatorship. We need them but they might turn on us at any second. I am just sayin...)

Rule Number 6 – Never underestimate the sympathetic smile.

When attempting to be an optimistic/nice person there is one category of person that will very often catch you off your guard. A scenario sounds like this: you say, ‘How are you?' They say ‘uhgg I am so tired!’ and they look pretty upset about it. So, you say, ‘Oh no! Why?’ Then they regale you with their tale of woe of having to stay up late with friends, drinking or watching movies and giggling all night. This is a crucial moment because at this point you may be tempted to give them some friendly advice about what real suffering is. This is a mistake! Just keep your mouth shut, smile sympathetically, and add a sentiment like ‘That sucks, I am so sorry’.

You might want to argue that it is better to say nothing, as the above statement is bordering on lying (I know because I would have said such a thing before I went on my pilgrimage to Disneyland and became enlightened in all things happy and sunny and studied the lyrics to ‘It’s A Small World’ till I can sing them backwards, which incidentally makes you sound like a demon but then you have faced the fear of sounding like a demon and are no longer afraid). Anyway, you may think it is better to say nothing. But saying nothing is a very big trap. Your eyes will give you away or, worse, you will actually roll your eyes. Then you will be enmeshed in extricating yourself from breaking rule number one, and forced to come up with a horrible lie like ‘my eyes roll like that because I have an eye condition’…

So instead, you must come up with a half-lie. Now only a skilled optimist/nice person should attempt the half-lie. You need to summon within yourself every ounce of empathy and put yourself in the shoes of the immature-nothing-bad-ever-happens-to-me-so-I-have-to-complain-about-good-things-and-make-them-sound-like-bad-things person. You can do it if you really try. It comes from a place where you really do hope that all they ever have to complain about is that they had to stay out late with friends. You genuinely want that for them; only then can you muster the empathy required. Or you could say: Your silly little complaint about how tired you are, because you had to hang out with your friends, is overall irrelevant to my life. You are silly and your issues are so small I have to wear my glasses to see them.  Oh… Excuse me. I may have blacked out for a second.

Dad makes his first appearance in my blog!

So Amelia called my Dad on Skype today. Once she wandered off to make me some AMAZING cookies, Dad and I had a lovely conversation. As we were winding down this is how the conversation went:

Dad: Melody, you know us. Recommend some movies for us.

Me: Like in the theater or on DVD?

Dad: Yeah... or on Netflix.

Me: Your Netflix doesn't have anything.

Dad: It has some stuff.

Me: Ok let me get on Netflix and see what  New Releases they have.

Dad: How do you do that?

Me: I just go online. Don't worry I wont go on your account or anything.

Dad: Ok...

Me: Umm, you might like Man of steel.

Dad: Yeah?

Me: Yeah, that's the new superman one.

Dad: Oh I don't know if we are into superman...

Me: Umm.

Dad: I like the new Sherlock. Who is that guy?

Me: The one with the girl Watson?

Dad: No...?

Me: Benedict Cumberbatch?

Dad: No.

Me: Is it a British one?

Dad: No.

Me: You're sure it doesn't have a girl playing Watson?

Dad: Girl? No.

Me: Then it is probably Benedict Cumberbatch.

Dad: No I never heard of any Sunberbat. It must be another American one.

Me: Hmm, not sure about that... I haven't seen another one.

Dad: Is Watson real young?

Me: Yeah they both are. Is it set in London?

Dad: Yeah... So that must make it British.

Me: Probably.

Dad: What's his name?

Me: Benedict Cumberbatch.

Dad: That is a terrible name. No one should be named that.

Love you dad!! That made my day!!!!

Dawn Attack and Six Guns Mel

I am at war. Despite my best efforts to live as an optimist/nice person, I find myself today in an all-out fist-raised, side-taking war. I’ll admit I may have started it but I blame my parents (obviously) because parents teach us to discriminate and pass on their prejudices.  Growing up, if we were ever in the same room with them my mother would hurry us away and yell for my father who would deal with them, swiftly. They would be removed by force if necessary. So I grew up believing this was okay; clearly they were beneath us and meant us harm. As is the case with prejudice, I found a spouse who shared my beliefs even more fervently. He won’t even touch them and has been known to cower in fear when approached. To be fair, he was mercilessly bullied by them during lunchtime in grade school. They used to hide in the long grass, sneak up behind him and make him scream like a girl in front of everyone and then slink away laughing. Seriously.

 It all began a few weeks ago. I am currently taking new medication that allows me to walk like a normal person. YAY!!!! So I have been taking advantage of this and we have been going for long walks. The first wave was an all out aerial assault,  swarming around my head. Next, a kamikaze suicide bomber would say a prayer, shout love to his friends and family and aim directly at the back of my throat, choking me and, worst of all, interrupting my brilliant world-changing point. Alan, who never believes in conspiracy theories  (I will get into this in later posts but I am pretty sure he works for all the conspiracy people. He is always so calm when I bring it up and makes up some logical lie as to why my conspiracy theory is flawed. I wonder how much they pay him? Not enough or I would be flying home more often!)  defends them calmly, stating, "They are not attacking you, it is just because you are short. See, occasionally one will hit my chest.”
I respond by saying “but… I…” choke, gasp, sputter. Now, it looks like Alan is taking his crazy wife from the attic for a walk because I spend the whole time frantically waving my arms around my head.

Then this morning, it happened. A full scale assault at dawn. My beautiful daughter was peacefully killing zombies in Minecraft when I heard her scream. To be honest, I did react a little slowly because often we have screaming while killing zombies. So I said, “What?”
She said, “SPIDER! SPIDER SPIDER!”
I said “GO, GET DAD!”
By the time they returned the spider was hiding. They searched (I couldn’t help, I was making my coffee), Amelia from the top of the dining room table and Alan turning things over and then jumping back. Then, there it was, in all its evil glory. Alan grabs the bug spray and unleashes half a can on the intruder and then, as he always does, places the can of bug spray over its struggling remains. At first I thought he did this out of respect. Let the spider struggle in privacy. Come to find out it is so that the spider cannot suddenly recover from the deadly poison and attack him (who’s the conspiracy theorist now!?!)

This however, was only a decoy. The real assault was yet to come. The enemy was lying in ambush. I had finished making my beautiful cup of mocha and I had steamed a little too much milk (and we don’t just throw milk down the drain, right Mom??). So I sipped a bit off the top, to make more room. I felt a lump pass my lips. I thought at first it was a bit of cocoa. So I rolled it around on my tongue. NOT cocoa.  I spit it out. I scream for Alan. Hoping, desperate, for one of his “It’s not a conspiracy” lies. But he had no such lie. He confirmed. IT WAS A KAMIKAZE SPIDER!!! They had not only messed with my daughter but now my COFFEE!
Oh, it’s on bugs. You hear me? No more sympathetic trips outside on the edges of paper when you have invaded my house. No more careful consideration of the balance of nature. IT IS ON!!!  I am bigger than you and I have technology on my side. They will call me Six Guns Mel. And I will strike fear into the heart of insects and arachnids everywhere. My stories will be told over camp fires long after I am gone. They will whisper of the “Day of Rage” when the bugs pushed her too far and attacked not only her daughter but her coffee. And the little children will peer out from hiding under their blankets, with their big beautiful eyes, and they will say, “Did she win Momma?” and the momma will say, “Yes, she did win. Six Guns Mel conquered them all. In fact, Six Guns Mel is the reason we can drink our coffee without fear and go on killing zombies for entertainment. We owe her everything Suzy, she was a true hero.”

 

 

Rule Number 5– Try to avoid discussing politics, religion or current events.

Now, you may think I have already covered this in rule number 4. This rule however is to help you cope with those group situations. Such as parties, a spouse's work event, or weddings. In these circumstances you will be meeting strangers. Now as an optimist / nice person you will be entering the event with optimism... obviously... so you will probably enter with a smile. Others will probably be sporting smiles as well. Now this is key. Just because others are smiling does NOT mean they are practicing nice people. You may introduce yourself and join the conversation. They are currently talking about the situation in xyz.  Now you may find you have very strong beliefs around this subject. Also, you are probably very intelligent and your point of view really could change their perspective and possibly the world. This is often when you will find you can talk the ‘shut up voice’ into being quieter. This is never a good idea. In fact, a good general rule is, when you are trying to tell the ‘shut up voice’ to shut up, you should excuse yourself to the bathroom. It helps if people already think you are funny because then it seems like you are doing a ‘bit’. If people do not think you are funny, run to the bathroom anyway. People thinking you are weird is a great start to avoiding conflict.

 I know some of you will think this is cowardly but I am not saying DON'T have strong beliefs. I am saying if you have them, try and remember most other people have them too and they probably differ from yours and they probably believe in them just as strongly as you do. Now, the only time stating your opinion does not lead to conflict is in the movies. Someone says I BELIEVE THIS!!! And the heroine comes up to them and says "You are wrong because of this, this and this, and you should look at it this way." Then the ‘wrong person's’ eyes get big. There is a moment of heartfelt introspection as they ponder their motives and their heart. Then they look down in humble acceptance and then the music swells, they look back up with tears in their eyes and they whisper "You're right."

However, in real life the same scenario goes like this: “I BELIEVE THIS!!!! You say “No, (because clearly you are the heroine in this story) you are wrong because of this, this and this. And you should look at it...” They then interrupt you with loud opposition. You continue to try and get words in sounding now a bit like a sick bird chirping “bu.. I...at... if... wh...” as he gets louder and louder. And then because you know you are right you think, ‘Hey maybe if I talk louder he will stop.’ Now you sound like a broken fog horn. Your husband is dragging you away as you continue to shout. He is smiling at everyone explaining that you take medication. (I am not sure why everyone gets this... I always wonder what medication, taking it for what, are we in danger here?) But anyway, it works in this situation as he drags you to the table of finger food you say “What!? This bright spark is saying the orphans should just get jobs! Where the hell are the 6year old orphans going to get jobs and who...” he then shoves a tiny hotdog in your mouth and you choke a little. He is smiling but he looks a little deranged as he says through his teeth “That is the bride’s grandfather. He has dementia.” You really start choking now but you are also trying to smile because people are looking. But now you have little bits of hotdog and pastry all over your face and even though it was a small hotdog, it is taking up most of your mouth, consequently, you look like you have had dental work done.  
So, only in the movies OK?