Don’t Shoot The Writer
I have been in a bad mood the last few days, to say the least. To put it bluntly, I’m PMSing (why won’t you just GET HERE, Auntie Flo?!?) and I’m dieting, and I’m dealing with my broken brain and blah blah blah. Point is, I’m in a foul mood. And I’ve been especially snarky on Twitter and Facebook, and of course I wrote the decidedly snarky post yesterday about Smug Marrieds.
So it was fate that today in group therapy we talked about anxiety and panic, and that one of the main reasons for those lovely emotions was the desperate need for validation. I know that feeling well. I love being snarky, hell, I can cut down armies with my snark. But of course I’ll follow that up with “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you mad at me? How can I fix it?” in a panicked, hyperventilating way. I can’t own anything I say without apologizing for it, and that? Is really dumb. There’s nothing wrong with saying something snippy and not beating yourself to death with a whip because of it. People can find something offensive anywhere you turn, and if you, oh, I don’t know, say something like this on a public forum…
SOMEONE is going to respond with “ERMAHGERD I love Ann Curry she’s up for sainthood you are a H8TR!!!!” It’s just the danger of telling a joke. Someone (or MANY someones) is going to find it distasteful or rude or icky, and they’ll snap at you. What you need to do is shrug, say “to each their own” and carry on. HA! Yeah, I’m too thin skinned and lilly-livered for that. But I keep going. Because if you’re not going to imagine Ann Curry giving her best “I’m here for you, tragedy victim” face to Petraeus while wearing a negligee, I just can’t help you.