There are days in which I become a specialist in gloom and doom. On those days, I do not welcome rays of sunshine. I frown and glare at them. I cloak myself in dark clouds, think black thoughts and refuse to see the bright side. I know, know, that crap is crap. In its own way, its a deep place. So when someone comes along, bares a multitude of teeth in what I vaguely recognize as a grin and tells me to cheer up because all's right with the world, I want to send them to deeper places, like the bottom of a very, very deep well. I mean, what's with the delirious happiness? It's like this clip from F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Had I been in Pheobe's shoes, ugly things would have happened.
With increased enlightenment, generally speaking, people are becoming quite 'positive'. We Indians thrive on drama, but it's becoming an endangered species. Can't even fight in peace anymore. I mean, why can't people just hold lifelong grudges and leave it at that? But nooooo! Everybody wants to work things out. Screw psychology, I say. Always advocating doing the right thing. It doesn't know the satisfaction that comes with being right and pointedly ignoring the wrong party. It can make you feel like a boss. Like a boss! You must admit the truth in that- aren't there a few people you're glad you don't have to speak to for the rest of your life? The kind who, if they were hanging off the edge of a cliff that you were walking past, you'd have to first win an internal debate with yourself before you reach out a helping hand? Make 'em sweat a bit. Heh, heh. (Please don't unfriend me at this point.)
This whole thing of looking at the bright side is difficult for someone who comes from a family majoring in morbid. My upbringing prepared me better for hell than heaven, with family members hiding in the shadows waiting to pounce on you if you did something wrong.
Unfortunately, my family has way too many unspoken right and wrong things. For some reason, sleeping during the day is just a step short of criminal. If caught, we weren't sleeping (indignant voice), we were simply 'resting our eyes'. Once my mom started snoring, that excuse couldn't fly, so she'd compensate by waking up and sneaking up on me wherever I am, standing right behind me and saying "What are you doing?", thereby making me jump out of my skin and skip several vital heartbeats. Turning around doesn't help at all, let me tell you. Seeing red-rimmed eyes in a puffy face surround by disheveled hair is hardly soothing- the heart still pumps too fast. When I'd still be tapping my chest and glaring at her, she'd say sorrowfully, "I fell asleep." Yeah, mom, I heard the chain-saw. Can you please go feel guilty elsewhere, preferably somewhere with a mirror and comb?
All in all, positivity was a luxury in our household until we grew up and turned things around a bit. My parents were suspicious of it at first, eyeing it as they would a new creature. They were always suspicious of books as the source of these newfangled ideas. "Did you read it in a book?" said with narrowed eyes was usually how arguments ended between us. But thankfully, time and maturity caught up with our family and we are now a more relaxed bunch. Still gloomy, but a more laidback gloomy. Case in point: it is now time for my late morning nap.