ProActiv

You know how when you will yourself to ignore something it becomes impossible not to think about it? Mysteriously, attempting to pay no mind to a tiny zit on your nose makes it impossible to eradicate its ever-growing presence from your peripheral vision. In somewhat the same vein, trying to quash and cram one's complaints about this, that and the other into a dark, invisible and unfrequented place always fails and the petty gripes and their gaudy abauble studded Liberace-evoking soap box always end up taking centerstage.

I am a complainer. I admit it. Not that there would be much use in denying it. Plausible deniability went out the window about three years worth of blog posts and 100,000 dollars worth of higher education ago.

I do not like being the complainer. I am always cognizant that it is my way, and it makes me feel ashamed. Guilty. Contrite. Overwrought. Weak. Consequently, I am the squeaky wheel, quick with the all-purpose diminishing return apology, who therefore never gets the grease. And thus, I continue to squeak.

If I am going to bitch, I may as well bitch effectively. And yet, I want to be a well-liked complainer. So I moan and groan, and tack on a smile and a wink and a nod just often enough.

Just often enough.

Just often enough that it ensures that I am tolerated, or even, on good days, well liked. But this is the secret to why no one can love me.

My complaints, if they do not make me outright unlovable, at the very least make me unpleasant. Who would want to spend their life hitched to the female equivalent of Gilbert Gottfried (without the lucrative Aflac endorsement deal nonetheless)?

I have, as of late, decided to make some vain attempts at being pleasant. To pretend that everything is perfect, if only for the day. Every time I fail miserably. I don't know why.

My pretending muscles must be fatigued.

Again, I have failed. I was going to write a pleasant post.

Oh dear.

Problem is that there isn't too much that is pleasant to write about. Life is tough lately, at least in my little narcissistic world. Hoping for some good news to come my way. Yes, I gripe too much. Yes, I don't deserve it. But I would still really appreciate it nonetheless.