Hard to Be Grumpy?

I've been asking myself lately: why would anybody want to visit a blog when the person who writes it is grumpy twenty-four seven? Don't we live in a world that's all about consuming 'fun stuff'? Maybe I should be fun stuff, too... Well, that'll be the day.

It's not like I wake up every morning thinking, 'G-O-O-D M-O-R-N-I-N-G V-I-E-T-N-A-M! Let's be really grumpy.' I'd say it's quite the opposite. When I wake up, I'm invariably in a good mood. I open my eyes, look to my right where I see Angie peacefully asleep with a hint of a smile on her beautiful face, I notice the high walls of my bedroom moving the way they always do, in perfect sync with the rest of the room—the black drapes, the pink and white lamps, the wonderful picture frames I bought a couple of years ago, all of them almost dancing like the daffodils in Worthword's poem. It's what happens to people with sarcoidosis. In the morning everything moves. You can compare it with a heat haze, when you're looking at things through hot air. I'm used to it. Strange as it may sound, it actually makes me feel at ease for it reminds me to be grateful I'm still alive. I could've died last year, you know, but I'm still around. Don't you count me out yet.

So what happens? Well, what happens is I remember where I am and what I'm supposed to do. Lying on my back, I remember my bills, my job, my dreams-not-come-true and the people I love who've sadly passed away. I remember my family is getting smaller and smaller, I remember the fact that my life's short, I remember I don't want kids of my own and Angie does. I remember many things and it all happens in, what, a few seconds while my room keeps spinning. Ironically, I am known as a funny, up-beat teacher, so I ask you: how in the world does that compute?

Right now I'm sitting behind my laptop still wearing my PJs fully aware it's almost time for dinner (I didn't feel like taking a shower). Angie's in the kitchen, quietly cooking I don't know what—something involving potatoes and spices from the looks of it—and we haven't spoken all day except for the occasional 'Hello' and 'Are you thirsty?' She knows I'm in a bad mood, so she's decided not to bother me. It's a miracle she said yes when I popped the question. (Don't remind me.)

Whenever I feel happy—as in this rare picture where I'm boasting a truly genuine smile—it's because I've momentarily found a way to focus on what really matters. I guess I spend way too much of my time around people who I don't care about. It's often paycheck related. You may know what that's like. I sometimes just want to be left alone or be surrounded by the people I care about. I don't know how to put it. People say life is about the choices that you make and even the mood we're in could be considered a choice ('RC, when you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'), but when it comes to being grumpy I'd almost say I was born this way. Almost.

* * *