And You're Not Happy, But You're Funny, And I'm Tripping Over My Joy, But I Just Keep On Getting Up Again

--"The Absence of God", Rilo Kiley

This writing business. Pencils and what-not. Over-rated, if you ask me. Silly stuff. Nothing in it.
--Eeyore

Knowing my penchant for self-help books that don't take themselves too seriously--namely, Fuck Yes: A Guide to the Happy Acceptance of Everything--and my healthy love for a certain mule who thinks he's a donkey, my friend Brandy sent me an interesting offering for my Christmas gift. In all my years of working at Crown Books I had always run across Benjamin Hoffman's books, The Tao of Pooh and The Te of Piglet and I'd always reminded myself that one of these days I would have to pick them up. Yet "one of these days" never came and eventually I lost all memory that I wanted to read these books. It wasn't that I got disinterested in them. On the contrary, I have the type of personality, if I don't purchase an item when it piques my interest, another item will subsequently replace it in my "to buy" list. Those two books simply fell through the cracks.

Thanks to Brandy, however, I finally got the opportunity to read the first book in the tandem. It was well worth the wait because now I have a deeper understanding of some the character archetypes contained in the stories as well as a fuller perception of how my affinity for the stories speaks volumes about me. Instead of taking them as amusing anecdotes and superbly quotable observations of life, I've begun to see Pooh, Tigger, and the rest as metaphors for every person I've ever run across or come into contact with.

I can't explain to you why the tales of Pooh and the gang continue to be a revered set of stories for me. Along with Calvin and Hobbes and The Story Girl stories, Pooh remains a constant soure of inspiration and a wellspring of original thought. Even to this day, one of my more favored questions to ask a new acquaintance is who their favorite Pooh character is. Very often I find their answer surprisingly suggestive of what their personality is and very indicative of how well I may or may not get along with them.

Which brings me around to my favorite character, Eeyore. What does he exactly mean to me? And when exactly did I begun to associate myself with him?

Both good questions. Let me see if I can answer them.

----

It had been another time in Mina's treehouse. I wouldn't say I talked all the time to her. Most of the time I walked the block or so to visit my friend Tommy. If Mina happened to be there, all the better. Yet there was something to be said about the privacy a treehouse affords one when one is as contemplative and prone to bouts of self-realization as I am. Possibly, some of the conversations I had with her wouldn't have happened had we been sitting on the curb or laying on the grass. I definitely think we wouldn't have the conversations had they been in the presence of anyone else. For some inexplicable reason, I grow more intelligent, more thoughtful, or perhaps grow more conducive to evolved notions of life, the universe, and everything, the less people are around. I'm like one of those talking frogs who can't shut up when there's only one person there, but, as soon as someone else shows up, I clam up.

There we were, waiting for her brother, Tommy, or anybody else to show up so we could get to the business of playing something when I asked her an innocuous question.

"Half full or half empty?" I asked. It was a strange question to ask since there was neither a glass present nor had we been discussing anything bordering on philosophy earlier in the day. It was one of those quiet moments where we had nothing better to talk about and I could kind of tell what we were contemplating was somehow connected.

"I always thought of myself as a positive person," she answered.

"Yeah, I could see that."

Honestly, I couldn't. What I knew of Mina she fell somewhere in the middle of the curve in terms of her proclivity for being either pessimistic or optimistic. Sure, she was upbeat, but she got down on herself as much as anyone I knew then. I think it's a great misnomer to label oneself as a positive person. I've met positive people and most people who think they are positive people, aren't. Breanne is a positive person, but she's the only one I know.

However, I didn't want to tell Mina that. Who was I to rain down on her parade of considering herself upbeat?

"People are always telling me I have a great smile and I like to smile, so yeah."

I don't know why the comment sparked a reaction in me. Maybe it was the tedium of waiting or maybe I had ideas that had been swimming around in my head. Whatever the reason, I decided to give her a full account of where I stood on the whole positive/negative Mason-Dixon line.

"Well, people are always telling me that I'm very moody and I kind of agree with them."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know--sometimes my mom wants me to pretend to be happy when I'm not and I just don't want to do it. It's the same when she tells me what to wear. I have a very big problem being told how I should do anything, actually."

Mina laughed.

"So you're just a gloomy gus?"

"That's not it either. I just think people should smile when they're happy, frown when they're sad, &c... I prefer being real, I guess."

I think that's a misconception about Eeyore. People always think of Eeyore as being this gloomy and depressed beast. The original Eeyore is very British, I think. He's a hodge-podge of pessimism, stoicism, sarcasm and cynicism--all of which are traits I think are very highly colorful in a person, especially the last two. He just sees the world with clear glasses on--neither positive or negative. Sure, most of his quotes come off as fatalistic and as complaints, but if one looks closely at the books, you'll find some gems of finding that even keel that eludes most people.

"It's snowing still," said Eeyore gloomily.
"So it is."
"And freezing."
"Is it?"
"Yes," said Eeyore. "However," he said, brightening up a little, "we haven't had an earthquake lately."

Even while I was talking to Mina, all those years before I could effectively put it into words, I had this perspective of the world as being a very realistic place. I think that's why I don't believe in formalized religions or holidays--they put this rosy-colored slant on the world that just isn't there. Don't mistake me, I'm not much in favor of the naysayers on the news who report on all the evil that men do to one another. Like I said, life inevitably falls somewhere in the middle and people should act accordingly.

"But didn't your mom tell you to smile?" Mina asked me.

"Well, yeah. But just because someone tells you to do something doesn't mean you should do it."

"Even your parents."

"Especially your parents."

I suppose that sounds rather harsh, especially considering that when I was having that conversation I had yet to leave Junior High, but I was the kind of individual who knew where my beliefs lay. My beliefs lay in the fact that the best judge of right and wrong in oneself and not anyone else. No matter how old you are, what some dusty book might tell you, or if other people have more experience than you or even if someone has been appointed by the city, state, or country to tell you right from wrong, you, as a person, are the only law you should follow.

Looking back on that day, I think I was having an epiphany that Mina couldn't quite grasp because from her reactions she still thought we were making small talk. However, I rather dislike small talk. The talk I was having with her was assisting me in formulating some of the basic precepts I would come to stake my whole personality on later on in life. Very often I find that nothing quite clears up philosophical stances and ethical guidelines than hashing them out with someone who might not agree with. Mina didn't exactly disagree with me, but her lighthearted approach to the subject matter only prompted me to grow more resolved and steadfast in my opinions.

"Everyone should smile more, I think," she said.

"Even if they don't have any reason to?"

"You can always think of something to smile about."

"Well, I do like it when you smile, Mina. You are right about that."

"See, even you can smile about me smiling. Problem solved."

This time it was my turn to laugh.

As aformentioned in my previous post, I didn't really have a crush on Mina. She was nice and pleasant to look out, but the real neighborhood crush I had was for the girl six doors down named Shannon. Yet Mina and I did get along and it wasn't inconceivable for me that someday I might come to harbor a real fondness for her.

"I admit it. I like to smile too. I just think you should have a reason to and, frankly, most days I have more reasons to be upset or sad about stuff than happy."

"Why's that?"

"I think it's the nature of things. For some reason I hold onto bad memories more than happy ones. Those are the ones that stick around the longest for me."

"Then I guess you're just not making the right kind of happy memories, Patrick."

"I guess not."

Even to this day, one of my maxims remains that only sad people write. Happy people are too busy being happy to ponder anything. Meanwhile, the sad people, because they are almost always alone in their sadness, have oodles of time to ponder the myriad of reasons they are sad. Because of this, they tend to write down their depressing feelings, their feelings of angst, and their feelings of desolation where it only serves to insure they remain trapped with the same negative feelings.

That's what I think Eeyore's case is. It isn't the fact that Eeyore is more negative than positive; it's the fact that negative people are more contemplative. And when one is more contemplative, one thinks of pithier and more quotable sayings. Therefore, those thoughts and those expressions are the ones that get memorialized in print. For all I know, Eeyore was a silent bundle of joy in private, but a verbose. morose donkey in public.

"You're just a little Eeyore, aren't you?" she asked, thus labeling me with a nickname that has lasted me my entire life up to this point.

"Exactly. You can just call me your little Eeyore, Mina."

We both laughed because, even though I was being serious about the whole world needing to take itself more seriously, the prospect of being compared to the model for pin the tail on the donkey tickled me.

It still does.


and I say there's trouble
when everything is fine

Pessimistic. Stoic. Sarcastic. Cynical.

That's me. So yeah, I'm not happy all the time, but I try to be funny about it.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers