Why do I always want to make people laugh?
Gets me invited to all the best parties. Always ensures me a seat in the staff rest room.
Colleagues come to check if i’m in their group on training days as when bored can get a bit anarchic.
Family members quote stories about me and I think i’m a bit of a glue at times when things get fraught.
I’m confident of a good turn out at my funeral with plenty of quote un-quotes.
Even had the *Spanish Contingency* laughing and they spoke not a word of English.
Joe laughs in spite of himself.
The father of my sons, who ought to have known better, is laughing on the other side of his face right now..I don’t find that funny at all.
At work last week my partner in crime a much younger arrogant tho' likeable man with ADHD was losing in a debate with me about his atrocious time keeping, he decided to come over to my swivel chair and pretend to dry hump my leg for comic effect and to stop me in full flow..I didn't get outraged I just grabbed his heal twisted his leg and deftly up-tipped him flat on his back and arse on the floor I got the last laugh. Everybody fell about at him as he's very tall and gangly. I knew that would be funny. The beauty of growing up amongst brothers.
Lastly on the back of that last recount but not least when i’m miffed and *on one* everybody laughs more and I don’t think that’s funny really as I’m *on one* for a good reason.
Marie was a Domestic Goddess, Pauline was an Angel of Mercy, Anna was stunningly beautiful and sassy and uber intelligent, Joe was an amazing artist and a mechanical whizz kid. Alex was musically gifted, could make a quid into two quid in the blink of an eye and had amazing technical drawing abilities and John had awesome text book intelligence. I had to find something I could do. I hate competitive streaks it scares me.
That’s all good isn’t it?
No it’s not.
I want to be quiet.
What will they think of my natural spirituality, born out my love for all things wonderful about the universe and none of its scientific reasons. In short, just the magic of it all.
When I look at a painting and marvel at the artists attention to detail.
What will people think of the fact that I see the detail but wonder what lies beneath the detail. The feelings of a tree and not the minutiae to be copied. That extra essence that widens my eyes.
Or think of my story of my flyaway owl called Drac, who hoots to me all night long if I so choose to listen and in seeing something beautiful only to humans, wisely looked away and now his head is permanently the wrong way round, so he’s forever backwards coming forwards. Not a joke in that story anywhere but the real essence of me.
What about the fattest Heron on the Carp Lake over the road who stares me out disdainfully and was pathetically but importantly my first friend in this ugly city. I worried about him when the lake froze solidly over this last winter as he’s not used to hard work given he’s almost got the lake to himself. No Hungry Heron that one. I usually don’t like smug bastards. Will anybody see the importance of that to me.
I want to see if people will like me in all my otherness and seriousness.
I can’t stop being funny because I’m not confident they will.
The one thing that I hate people saying to me when I am quiet, is *smile* I usually just smile.
Gertie
Life Tag ~ Bert Jansch ~ A Woman Like You
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