BUT SERIOUSLY

My philosophy is if you have to tell somebody this then you’re probably wasting your time. The reason I feel that way is because that signals to me that the person isn’t able to tell when you are kidding and when you aren’t.

It reduces down for me to an issue of not being able to communicate with a given individual to the degree you would desire. That can be a tragedy if they always misinterpret you comments.

I used to beat myself when this would happen. I’d end up spending way too much time trying to figure how I had failed to say what I meant.

After all I am politician and it is my life blood making sure that I am understood. But I have come to accept that with some people it wouldn’t matter how good I was at expressing myself they would managed to screw it up in their minds.

However, despite knowing of all that, I still have those moments when my brain says, “the only way to deal with this situation is to make a joke.” And I do.

Later, when my sanity has returned and I sit staring at the person I made a funny too who has a blank stare on his face, I say to myself, “wake up Rash.” Oh it does disappoint me and if I don’t stop myself, I’ll make the situation worse by trying to explain.

Trust me, it never works. It only makes things worse. I wish I could tell you there were exceptions to that reality, but I haven’t found them so far.

So I cope with those detours from levity by remembering the times when I deal with people who actually have a personality. That can really be a wonderful memory.

It is sort of like taking a mental detour down the road of past glories. I can say to myself, ah now that was a wonderful trophy of success in humor. And it sure it shiny. I’m visualizing here, so work with me.

Alas, this doesn’t translate into enough in all cases. When those efforts failed, I just hide my failure under a fake smile. One that I hope won’t betray my real feelings.

You might ask, is it worth it? Well too me it is most of the time. I still labor under the delusion that perhaps lightning will somehow strike and this slug of a creature I call a person will get a personality.

It hasn’t happen so far, but I keep hope. Perhaps you could call it being an optimist to some degrees. Or simply that I’m hopeless inclined to daydream about what will probably never be.

In the end I just keep practicing the joy of saying what I pray will be understood and even produce a smile. And perhaps keep imagining when I can get a mask to replace the person’s confused look.