So as I was perusing Amazon's free book titles this morning... yes, I know it is a Friday and I should be at work, but I have had this head cold for 10 days and it is getting worse, not better so I think I will go to the doctors. Late is better than never, in some cases. Anyway, back to the Amazon thing. Right. So, there is nothing worth getting from the free list that I haven't already gotten, but as I was scrolling away my eye caught a fun title on the books that cost list. (This is how I classify it, work with me here.) So this book, which is by a British author, is titled, "I Don't Know How She Does It: The Life of Kate Reddy, Working Mother." Naturally, this led me to wanting to read the descriptioin, and well, now I want to buy it. But for more reasons than the whitty lines in the text. After all, I am a working mom and I do enjoy a good work of fiction.
Then, due to my penchant for drawing parrallels to everything and and my need to dissect thought, I reflected on what I do in a week's time. I look at my work schedule, my school schedule, my family schedule, etc and then I think hmmm...is there anything whitty about my life? Anything that would be considered funny, interesting enough to read about? Nah. Now, I do like to attempt humor, sometimes I succeed, mostly I do not. I think the reason is my audience. I struggle with that, saying the right thing at the right time. Who doesn't? Do you remember in You've Got Mail where Kathleen Kelly (meg Ryan's character) and Joe Fox (Tom Hanks character) talk about saying the right thing at the right time? Allow me to share:
Joe Fox: [talking via email to "Shopgirl"] Do you ever feel you've become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora's box of all the secret, hateful parts - your arrogance, your spite, your condescension - has sprung open? Someone upsets you and instead of smiling and moving on, you zing them? "Hello, it's Mr Nasty." I'm sure you have no idea what I'm talking about.
Kathleen Kelly: [talking via email to "NY152"] No, I know what you mean, and I'm completely jealous. What happens to me when I'm provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then, then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said. What should I have said, for example, to a bottom dweller who recently belittled my existence?
[stops and thinks]
Kathleen Kelly: Nothing. Even now, days later, I can't figure it out.
Joe Fox: Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could pass all my zingers to you? And then I would never behave badly and you could behave badly all the time, and we'd both be happy. But then, on the other hand, I must warn you that when you finally have the pleasure of saying the thing you mean to say at the moment you mean to say it, remorse inevitably follows.
Well, that is me; the remorse part that is. I always say what I am thinking, be it the right time or not. I do not apply filters; thus not always coming up with a whitty statement. Well, it may be whitty, but only to me. I fall flat. I ineveitably offend someone, make them think I am not someone who they want to be around. Now, at least I am being true to myslef, or perhaps I am just mean? Who knows; after all, I was just thinking...
...and now you know where thinking gets me.