I'm No Fun Anymore

Not that I ever really was the most exciting person in the room, mind you. I've always been a bit of a Debbie Downer.

Smart, though, and sarcastic. Frequently witty and often silly. Serious, studious, and stubborn, maybe. But fun?

Not an adjective people use to describe me. Nor is it a word I use to describe myself.

My idea of "fun" is a good hour with a video game or a book. Or sitting at a political meeting watching politicians make fools of themselves.

Slap happy stuff, that.

I also have a propensity toward depression and that creates a glass-half-full outlook that doesn't lend itself to happy thinking. Expect the worst and be glad if you don't get it, that's my motto.

And yet . . . I make my friends laugh. I don't make an effort at it, I'm just myself with them, and they find me hilarious. Anyone who knows me well finds me amusing, quick with a comeback, sometimes even able to remember a joke.

I can make the most mundane incident of the day sound like the funniest thing to happen to somebody ever. I make fun of myself a great deal, too.

Other people are off limits. I don't make fun of other folks, because I know how that can hurt if you hit a wrong button. I have lots of buttons and some people are very good at hitting them. Those people, I suspect, think I am never fun.

Those people don't know me very well because they've never taken the time to know me. I don't fit into their idea of who I should be, and so they don't accept me for who I actually am. All they know how to do is hit my buttons and/or be critical.

Their loss.

Because while I might not make a living as a stand-up comic, I'm actually not a bad person to know. Took me 55 years to figure that out, but hey, better late than never.