Today boys and girls (and everyone else, this is an inclusive blog) I want to talk to you about attitude.
I was woken this morning before dawn by the rumble of snowploughs. Did I think "OH NO! More snow!"?
Did I think "ARGH! Too early!"?
So, what did I think ? I thought "Oh cool, I'm up early enough to play my game for a bit and do some writing."
So, playing my game (yes, just the one, don't have the time or inclination for more) my Sim was given an opportunity.....The mailbox went all sparkly, so I clicked and it said "Send a gift to a friend". Well, as she'd just found a yellow sapphire in the front garden I thought, that might do, so I clicked on the mailbox. And I got the message:
"You must have friends to send gifts"
And I laughed out loud. You know, LOL, but for real. A belly laugh. The cat looked at me askew, but she's used to me. (I wonder what cats think laughter is?)
Anyway, that inspired me. When things don't go as planned, provided it's not truly tragic, I tend to laugh. I was born that way. My mother was the same. When she was dreadfully ill in hospital she was still cracking jokes. It really disturbed one of her other visitors, but I knew her better. Life is funny, and the more absurd it gets, the more I laugh.
Recently I have been listening to the same music almost every day. My boys complain about it all the time, but Tom has started to whistle the tunes, and I've even caught him singing to himself.
It's very, very silly, and I love it.
If you've never heard of the Bonzos, then you've probably only ever come across Vivian Stanshall as the voice on Tubular Bells. But there was oh so much more to him than that. He was a tortured genius, he suffered mental and physical illness for most of his life, and then died in fire at far too young an age. But he was funny. Very funny. As often happens, deeply damaged people often provide humour and - let's face it - joy, for others.
Another funny man is Billy Connolly, who had a pretty rough start (I read a lot of biographies) but whose attitude is brilliant. Then there'd Eddie Izzard, and I could go on.
My point is that all these very silly people are in fact teachers of life. They make points, through their humour, that are far more memorable, far deeper, far more meaningful than anything imparted in a serious tone.
Even Monty Python, which is about as silly as it gets, was educational material, and when it came out I was a very impressionable age. It helped me see the absurdity in "normal" British society, so that I was never sucked into believing it was real. What was real then, as now, is the silliness of it all.
So, I suppose right along with that I developed my attitude, which is to laugh when those around me are moaning and wringing their hands in angst. I restrict my seriousness for things that call for it, and I'm not even averse to jokes about those if they work.
Life is short. Nobody gets out of here alive. Have fun. Laugh you buggers, laugh.