I just hammered out a couple of letters to my senators. Do I feel better about myself, you ask? Not really.
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Here is the thing: No more whining. Seriously. I don't give a shit. You say you're in a bad mood? Every single little thing didn't go your way today? You're not having a fabulous time right this very minute? Too fucking bad.
I'm not even talking about internet whining here. I mean, your online space is your own, and if you want to be a big fat crybaby in it, that's your right. I do it sometimes. But if you aren't having fun at the event that your friend picked out for Friday evening, I would suggest that you suck it up and try not to spoil her fun. And if everyone is having pasta, and you hate pasta, eat something else quietly and refrain from lecturing everyone else on the dangers and evils of pasta-eating. And if the attorney that you have a lunch date with is late for his appointment, don't vent your frustration at this waste of your precious, precious time on the receptionist. Because as much as she would like to, she cannot make attorneys appear and disappear with a magical (and adorable!) twitch of her nose.
I just don't understand when being in a bad mood became an excuse for crappy--and sometimes cruel--behavior. I'm SORRY you're in a bad mood, but if that's the case, maybe you should consider staying home and not inflicting yourself on others socially?
Let's face it, most of us here in the wired first world are doing pretty well for ourselves--we have hot showers stocked with several different kinds of shampoo, for Christ's sake, and millions of books and movies and varieties of olive available for our consumption. If you really have to find fault with every little thing, do it on your own time. I'm folding up my Sympathetic Face and packing it away up on the back shelf until you come to me with a real problem.
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