I was watching a late night infomercial, (sadly, not the one with women's undergarments) when someone asked me if I was being my authentic self. Of course I was, wasn't I?
All my life I have done what I was told. I learned all my lessons, and stayed the course. I went to church AND synagogue. I am a genuine dyed in the wool, home-spun, boy next door. My entire demeanour breathes wholesome rascal. I was a Boy Scout. How could I be anything else?
I admit I am prone to having my train of thought wander off track and veer into the occasional drunken rant. From time to time I have let the windmills of my mind grind the grain of my distemper into a flour of angst and scorn. After that I usually get baked and sup upon the bitter sweet breads of my imaginings.
Am I being authentic, or cranky?
What if it is more than just crankiness? What if I am a curmudgeon? Could it be I am one property away from berating the presence of children and their caterwauling? The smell of lavender, mothballs and cardigans begins to fill my senses. I need a 'step in tub', and a 'snuggie'. Why is it so DAMN cold in here?
Perhaps a pleasant blended drink to placate the jangle of my underdone nerves. The rattle of the Christmas claptrap has my festive balls on edge. I need a hobby.
Just sayin'...
All I know for sure is I need to stop the hurt that aches in my heart. Mostly it is gas, but it could be an indicator of an underlying condition. I might have acute angina. Please don't stare. It makes people uncomfortable.
It is another day, and so far nobody died. Wait, let me check my pulse first...
DaBuoy
