I think everything in life has the potential to be funny in prescribed, spooned, measured amounts. Listen, it has to be. A friend much wiser than I told me once that the more prone you are to depression, the more absurd you find day to day living. You find more to laugh at and the laughter is often inappropriate.
My heroes are the comedians that make us cringe and think. Kathy Griffin. Chelsea Handler. Judy Gold. George Carlin. Mitch Hedberg. Richard Pryor. Lenny Bruce. Jerry Seinfeld. Kathleen Madigan. Wanda Sykes. And the list goes on and on.
I live for inappropriate laughter. I must get pretty moody then, right?
I immerse myself in all things funny as much as I can. I look at life through big thick Mr. Magoo glasses. I know everyone is pointing back at my coke bottle spectacles, but I can see them really good, better than the average Joe can, and I can see through them. They see a nerd when they stare at me. I see funny when I stare at them. I can't help it.
It's very possible that this runs in my family somewhat. My younger sister turns into a giggling maniac whenever someone trips, falls, walks into a wall, knocks over something...
She's been like this her entire life. If you are clumsy and you do something that results in your falling flat on your ass, if she is within ten feet of you, she's going to laugh at you whether you like it or not. She'll probably even laugh and point. The good news is after she's pulled herself together she will probably ask you if you're okay. Don't take it personal when she's still holding back giggles while she asks you if that cut on your forehead needs stitches. And she will gladly call 911 for you if she thinks you broke something, like a leg or a hip. And if it looks like you might have a concussion,no fear. She'll probably drive you to the hospital herself, after she calls three of her friends to tell them how this stranger slipped on a banana peel in front of the 7-Eleven and landed on their back and got the wind knocked out of them and then smacked their head really hard on the pavement. Funny stuff.
Did I mention she's a big fan of that "Wipeout" show where contestants compete in insanely ridiculous water sports where they have to get through slippery, wet obstacle courses in order to win? She loves it. The entire hour consists of mostly physically inept people getting catapulted across a mud filled lake while they try to stay hoisted on specialized flippers and diving boards. It's crazy. But yeah, it is funny. I've watched the show. And during the parts where I merely smile and laugh when someone gets wiped out, my sister goes into convulsions. And I say good for her. Laughter is good for the soul. Even at the expense of others. I guess. Just this past winter I lost my balance while trying to get into the back seat of a jeep and my sister was in hysterics. I don't get it. But it works for her and God Bless Her. We all need something that tickles our funny bone.
If there is nothing in life to laugh at, why bother getting up in the morning? Seriously. I do know a few people who find nothing funny. They are serious from start to finish. They're not necessarily mean people, or distraught people, or even depressed people. They're sort of, well, annoyingly reserved to the point where you just want to slap them. It's like you could take them to a Will Farrell/ Steve Carrell film fest and they won't crack so much as a grin. You want to shake them and say, "What is wrong with you? Were you born without smile muscles?"
They are the Debbie Downers.
They must be even keeled folks, the ones who don't laugh at anything. The ones who will say, "Oh, nothing is wrong. I just never found the Marx Brothers, The Three Stooges or I Love Lucy amusing, that's all. Now the sinking of the Titanic? That was a hoot! The Hindenberg Explosion? I thought I'd laugh til I died..."
Smack.
Debbie Downers are not people who get depressed from time to time like we do. Debbie Downers are wired wrong. Debbie Downers see the serious side of everything. They are inherently flawed. That isn't depression. That's a huge ass character flaw.
But we who get depressed from time to time or over stretches of time know what it takes to get us moving and laughing again. At least I do. There is a reason they say it's darkest before the dawn. When you're going through a dark tunnel, eventually you will find light at the end of that tunnel. (A Debbie Downer would call the light at the end of that tunnel a train. See what I mean?)
I digress. Through my life I have experienced many bouts of depression. I think at this point it might just be the way I'm wired because I always snap back no matter what. And then I snap back better than before. I like life. I really do. I just hate the intermission. I don't deal well with change. I like things to go my way. I don't like to lose if it means I'm going to end up feeling shitty or looking bad in the end. Of course, most of this is all my perception of me. Isn't that what the blues are? Our perception of ourselves and how we deal with the external crap that's bringing us down? There are so many bon mots quoted to make us feel better when we're down. "God won't give you more than you can handle." Good to know. Sometimes hard to believe. "When you're all the way down, the only way to go is up." Really? What genius thought up that one? "A smile is a frown turned upside down." So what then? Are we supposed to stand on our heads when we don't feel like it? Break our damn necks trying and then we'll see who is in a funk. Geez.
When I'm depressed I like to pull out of it myself. I don't like people egging me on and telling me that what I need to do is take a walk or get moving or pursue a hobby. Pursue a hobby? Yeah. Nothing gets me out of the doldrums more than a frustrating 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle of an iceberg on the Arctic cap or going through ye olde coin collection to find that copper penny from 1903 that might be worth fifty cents now. I feel better already.
It's best to let me be. I'm never suicidal. So buzz off. If I have the blues and I want to sleep for three days let me. Well, no, don't let me. I'd smell after three days without a shower.
The thing that has helped me most through my depression these past few months is the fact that I have been talking to women like me (and some men) who are going through bouts of sadness for reasons that are familiar to me and foreign. If it brings you down, it doesn't really matter what it is. If it's disrupting the quality of your life and sucking the joy out of your existence, it's safe to call it depression.
There is clinical depression and there's situational depression. And somewhere along the line I think they can meet in the middle and be aggravated by other things as well. Some people need meds. Some people need to talk to someone. And some of us just need to pop in our well scratched copy of "Best in Show" or any other Christopher Guest movie and that does the trick. Feeling better to the point where you can actually walk across the room and pop the DVD into the player is the real trick for me. The experts are right about that. You do feel better when you move. I missed that exercise train years ago. I was never athletic in school. I was like that kid Brick on "The Middle" who spends recess under a tree reading a book and hopes that the teacher won't notice that he isn't socializing with the other kids. Perhaps if I had been a little more athletically inclined my depressive episodes would be easier to deal with today. Maybe when life's blows punched me in the face I could rebound a lot faster and not wonder what the hell is wrong with me. There's a fat chance I might join a gym in the near future. But there's a fatter chance I won't. I have exercise equipment in my home. There's a pair of jeans drying on my cardiac workout machine now I think.
What can I tell ya?
But life need not be a bully. And, to the best of my ability, despite the proverbial orange construction cones that have been my special roadblock for more than a few months now, it is still a wonderful life and this, too, shall pass.
Didn't mean to go all Jimmy Stewart on ya there.
Oh what the hell.
Kiss My Ass, Mr. Potter. Despite you and your tricks, it is a wonderful life.
Blues get out of my way. I got some laughing to do.
There is nothing quite so exhilarating than driving really fast and knocking down orange construction cones on a stretch of highway at 3 am.
In your mind, that is. Don't really do it. For heaven's sake. You know how sensitive the road commission can get when people start knocking over their damn cones after dark. Touchy, touchy.
Keep on smilin' kids. Makes people wonder what you're up to.
"Enjoy every sandwich." -Warren Zevon
Enjoy the day. I'll meet back up with you here in a while.
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