Today is the final day of my happiness regimen, and according to the agenda, I must invest time in family and friendships, and that means being nice, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned about the internest, it’s that being nice is bad for blog business. People hate nice weblogs. In fact, they hate the nice ones so much that they usually start flame wars in the comments boxes, which almost always causes the blogger to get defensive and act evil in kind, which is great for traffic, and pretty much good for nothing else.
I’M SO READY FOR THIS.
Friendships
Sadly, I’m one of the worst friends in the world. And I make friends with great difficulty. I break attachments with seemingly no emotion whatsoever. I have a feeling that it boils down to how I reacted to being a military brat, always moving just as friendships were established. Our parents, perhaps in an attempt to make things easier on us, never allowed us to say good-bye, or to continue contact afterwards, for that matter. Whereas the other kids would have going away parties, we got stern warnings to get in the van and shut up. Friendships became poor investments. Out of all the people I attended school with, from elementary all the way through college, I have contact with absolutely no one. The last time I spoke with someone from my high school was 10 years ago.
So for my final assignment on Happiness, Day Seven, I have to say it’s difficult to invest in something that’s just not there.
Well, there is the internest, I suppose.
And what’s crazy about this is that the people who make nice with me here have such a wide array of views. And no matter what crazy shit I say, the internest always seems to forgive me. And in turn, I show my appreciation by pretty much endorsing whatever ridiculous nonsense comes out of the internest’s collective mouth! And the more I like you, the more enthusiastic I’m likely to be in supporting your insanity. If for instance, you think it’s perfectly logical to send 12-year olds to the electric chair and you get the following reaction from me, ‘Fucking A! Fry the little bastards!,’ you know I’m crazy about you.
You should totally try that to gauge my affection. Tell me something completely moronic. Tell me that every man should have intercourse with a feral cat at least once. If I REEEALLY like you, I’ll see your cat and raise you a kitten.
‘Cause that’s how I roll.
(you know, for my friend/s, in case that wasn’t clear).
Family
Ah, well now with family it’s different, because growing up, we WEREN’T ALLOWED TO SAY GOOD-BYE TO OUR OWN FAMILY. They pretty much threw us in with the other boxes and took us with them, regardless of our desire to go. More than once I had the following fantasy:
Father: I don’t think Brandon is worth our investment any more.
Mother: Well, I suppose we could leave him here with $10 and a can of soup.
Father: Now that would be an INVESTMENT.
Mother: Leave him here with nothing?
Father: Sounds good.
Brandon: YAYYY!
Well, it was a LITTLE more intricate than that. But suffice it to say that I am the world’s worst family person with one exception. To my great surprise I turned into Ward Cleaver once we had children. Even though I’m constantly drunk, I lavish affection onto my kids, bringing them gifts at every turn, playing video games with the boy, RARELY swearing in front of the girl and doing my best not to lock them in the boat when I’m hungover.
Okay, maybe Ward Cleaver isn’t the best analogy, but you see where I’m going.
Still, I am surprised at how affectionate I am with Alex and the kids. It’s a bit depressing imagining how much better I might have been for them under different circumstances. I understand that there are things I should be doing, things I occasionally see other parents doing for their kids, husbands for their wives. I’ve invested everything into them, though ‘everything’ wound up being not much more than the change in my pocket.
But the investment has paid dividends. And even though we put most of those proceeds back into trust, tonight I believe we’ll share the profits. I can’t think of any better way to wrap up a difficult, weeklong regimen.
Pizza and a round of Sorry!
Results:
For Day Seven, I Invested Time and Energy into Friendships and Family.
Do I feel a little happier?
They should slice me up and feed me to manic-depressives.
Tomorrow:
I get to go back to being unhappy and productive.
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