Seven Dwarves Are My Multiple Personalities
Rarely through my life if you'd asked me the names of the seven dwarves could I have listed them in their entirety. I can now. They live in my brain. They don't pay rent but they certainly eat the food and use far too much internet time.
There's Sleepy...he pops in at about 4 am and yawns in my ear. Considering the contagious nature of yawns (see, you're going to yawn now) I of course get really sleepy and head to bed. He gets his internet time.
There's Grumpy....he's the morning guy. He makes my coffee in hopes I'll get grouchier from the caffeine. Not. I just let him grump as I do my ritual waking up.
Dopey....well he's part of the morning ritual too. My occasionally odd methods of waking often get Dopey's juices going and he writes with an almost out of body type demeanor. Weird. But good writing.
Doc is the one who pushes his way to the keyboard when I have work of an herbal nature. He likes to slip his thumbs in his belt loops and swagger while telling me all about the plants of the forest and field. Back to Sleepy, begging him to make me yawn to throw Doc the hint.
Sneezy is just plain annoying.
Bashful peeks out when I have to write a autobio or a promotional piece on my work. I hate doing these tasks. I'm not good at talking myself up and my mate gets terribly perturbed.
Happy emerges frequently. I'm a happy person. I love to laugh. The more I fill my day with this, the better day I have.
Have you ever noticed though, that some people really do NOT want to laugh? What, short of an abdominal incision, could make them not want to? What feels better? (the great sex answer is appropriate here)
I don't want to deal with people who would rather go about their lives with the seriousness of the inquisition. No sirry bob...not this girl. I have little time for someone who would rather bring the world down than crack a smile. Here's the lip-balm, here's a clue and here's your sign.
They don't want life....they want a government job in a dusty basement office where they can make the centipedes miserable. More power to them. I'll help them fill out the ap.
Life is too short. Yes, I know. An old cliche ....but totally one of those "BIG TRUTHS"!
In the history of our planet, our lifetimes are but a gas bubble in a bathtub. We are released onto the planet, we drift slowly upward (through wisdom) and cause a stink at the end of our journey to the surface. But, that stink means we've cleansed for the next go-round.
Me? I'm still half way between the butt and the stars. I'll let you know how the journey's going from time to time.
parent teacher wife
artist poet coo
humorist woman volunteer student
Some of My Work
Life as Fodder
Life and Sanity
A Humor Column
Martin & Harriet
He's dead, she's not.