The Road to Well-Being is a Boring Journey

I've spent so much time the last few months trying to get inside my brain and improve myself, that I've stopped doing one of my favorite things.

Being me.

And I'm all for self-improvement, but it shouldn't take over and change the core of who I am. Being a "better person" doesn't mean being a different person. "Rising above" is just a code word for ignoring the opportunity to have a little fun.

For instance:

I actually thought I was being a better person by ignoring the rude comments of an overly-promiscuous, jealous co-worker.
But it's much more fun to stoop to her level.
Like when she snidely said to me, "Gosh, we can't all marry into money like you," and I responded, "Well, you may be right, but I give you props for trying so damned hard."

And I've tried so hard to be a June Cleaver for my kids that I almost missed the opportunity to have this conversation with my daughter on the way to the Planned Parenthood to pick up some birth control pills:
"No pap smear, no exam. I'm not taking off my pants," she said, to which I replied, "Funny, if you'd only thought of that sooner, there'd be no need for this appointment at all."

See, those are things that crazy people say. So much for sanity. Bring on the crazy. It's what makes me who I am... and I honestly like the crazy me. She's so much more fun, and way more unpredictable that the boring me I've been living with for the last six months. All the voices in my head are my closest friends. And I'm tired of being a sane stick in the bland mud. Let someone else save the world now. I just want to be silly in it.


This is Funky, and that is all.