The Unintentionally Intentional Smile

Writing, for me at least, is perhaps one of my most selfish endeavors, amounting to a therapeutic gushing of self expression. It is means to core-dump all of my stress and anxiety into something a tad bit more productive. Relieving the tremendous pressure in my head by allowing the maelstrom of words and ideas to dissipate, the act itself, typing the words on the screen before me, is akin to turning that pressure gauge down before the boiler blows. It’s something I must do for me, ergo egocentric. BUT… (isn’t there’s always a but…) let’s face it – if I wasn’t sharing my words, then I’d basically be just talking to myself which, as we all know, is one step away from living by myself in a house full of cats and trying to teach them to meow the tune to It’s a Small World After All. (It can be done, if I can just get Mr. Wiggles and Princess Prancy-Paws to work on their timing.)

Point being: Yes, the underlying act of writing is a selfish cause designed to benefit me, myself and the voices in my head. (Me? Yes, you.) (What about me? Yes, you too, now shoosh, I’m working.) I find however, from time to time, that it has an additionally gratifying result. Just this morning a friend told me that I bring a smile to her face every day and that she’s grateful for my comic insights. THAT, my friends, is the apex of it all. THAT is nailing the Final Jeopardy question when you bet it all. THAT is watching YoLANDA Vega (for my NYS lottery playing friends) as she calls out your numbers on the winning lotto ticket. THAT is having the cop come back from the door, unhooking the cuffs and telling you that Mrs. Peters won’t press charges if you agree to put her precious garden gnome back where it belongs. (Wait, um, never mind that last one. Mom, dad, if you’re reading this - that never happened.)  

           

No, my dear friend, it is I who is grateful. I am so very grateful that if nothing else this musing, rambling and idiotic ranting that spews forth from my fingertips has placed a smile upon your face. Writing for me isn’t about the money, as nice as that is. If I can touch people, invoke emotion, make them snicker or chuckle or giggle or cackle like a perturbed mental patient or make them simply smile, then it’s been worth it. Too often I think people try too hard in seeking others’ approval or acceptance. I’m guilty of it still. We all are. It’s the curse of being human. I really do try not to try, and most of the time I think my efforts are honest. Other friends joke (at least I hope they’re joking) that I need help as a result of some of the things I come up with. I don’t need help. I come up with this stuff all on my own. (I know, not what they meant.) This is me, dealing. Relating. Venting. Creating. Smiling. If my selfish actions make you smile, them I’m smiling too, because a smile not shared is a smile wasted.

So, selfishly, I ask that you please keep telling me what makes you smile. Let me let you in on a little secret – yes, I am trying to make you smile, and nothing makes me smile more broadly than knowing I’ve been able to. It is the exponentially intoxicating, cumulative and self replicating result of a simple facial gesture that can make all the difference for those around you. Like Buddy the Elf says, “I like smiling. Smiling’s my favorite.”

:)