Island of the Humorless

I had the privilege of interacting this weekend with someone who apparently is a native of the Island of the Humorless.

Privilege is a bit of a stretch.  Let's just say, if it wasn't an obligation I wouldn't have ANY interaction with ANY of the natives of the Island of the Humorless.

I have to say, I'm not sure how someone grows to adulthood with absolutely NO sense of humor, and because I can't see how such a total absence of humor is possible in normal human development, I can only understand it by believing that they come from some island, isolated from all that is quirky or funny or cheeky and surrounded day in and day out with serious things.

And now that I think of it that way, I kind of feel sorry for her.

What offends me, is not her rude and self-righteous treatment of me, but rather the fact that I am surrounded by people who, by rights, shouldn't have a sense of humor right now, but DO.

The woman I work with, her daughter has leukemia, she's the chair of a department that is hemorrhaging faculty and staff, they face serious funding issues, and YET--she has a great sense of humor.  She laughs and teases and takes everything in stride.

My brother just got back from Afghanistan.  He saw and had to do things that were serious and seriously grim.  You know what?  He still has a sense of humor.  He told us the Perils of Drinking the Milk in Afghanistan and it was disgusting and hilarious.

My best friend Samwise, she has to move, she's the leader of the young women in her church, she works part time, she's re-certifying as a dietitian and she's raising the roundest little redhead that I've ever snuggled with.  Her own history is chock full of hard times and yet, YET, she's got a sense of humor you ought not to fool around with if you're drinking anything because it WILL come up your nose.

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Maybe I'm approaching this the wrong way.

Maybe a sense of humor is a gift.  A talent.  A skill to be practiced and developed.  Maybe it's not something we're born with, something inherent in our DNA.  And maybe it's just not something that happens to be in this particular woman's skill set.

Which also makes me feel sorry for her.

I've just never encountered anyone quite so humorless before, someone so incapable of hearing the nuances of playful banter.  And it's this total want of humor that reduces someone like me, who relies on my wit and humor and charm to win people over, to a lump of human flesh totally devoid of desirability.  It's an alarming feeling.

And so to console myself I made a loaf of cinnamon swirl bread and have been eating toast all weekend.  Because when one is obliged to interact with the humorless, it's best to have a piece of toast first.

Insights from my CAT

I must admit that I am a pet-person.  I think it's one of those things, either you are or you're not.  And if you're not, well that's ok.  But you may not get what I'm about to write.

See.  12 years ago I brought Leike home.  Don't blame me for the weird name, my brother named her just after he got home from his mission in Holland.  Anyway, she's was tiny, the runt of her litter, when I brought her home.  And maybe it was the rather unpleasant relationship I had just escaped from, but I absolutely freakin' loved this cat.

Anyway.  She and I have survived quite a bit together, she trekked across the country with me, sat with me as I practiced french verbs and russian declensions.  She's sat on my feet while I've written, I don't even know how many papers.  And aside from the comfort aspect of our mutual friendship, she's been giving me the occasional insight.

See, Leike is a bit deluded.  She thinks she's a mighty huntress, Queen of the Wild Outdoors, Fearsome One to Behold, Leike the Destroyer of Birds and very small Rodents!

But really, she's just an over-grown, pampered feline who doesn't know the first thing about hunting.

I was watching her yesterday.  She was rubbing my legs and pawing at the back door and HOWLING (all caps) to go outside...it was sunny and windy and there were birds a-plenty.  And I kept shushing her and reminding her that she is not quite the fearsome hunter that she thinks she is and I realized something...

What if the majority of our frustration and dissatisfaction with life is precisely for the same cause?  What if we're all delusional, we all think that we're one thing--talented and smart and pretty and special--but really, we're just quite average and ordinary?  And what would happen if we were to accept our ordinariness and admit that it's not only ok, but pretty darn fine being ordinary and moved on with our lives?  Would we be more successful?  More fun to be around?  Happier?

Or--just the same but phrased a bit differently, what if we accepted and acknowledged that everyone is talented and smart and pretty and special in their own ways--we may just not know what those ways are just yet?  What if we admired more and questioned less?  What if we started off thinking the best of people instead of assuming the worst?  What would the world look like if we actually lived like that?

For now, I'm feeling decidedly less delusional.  I'm ok being fairly ordinary.  I know certain things about myself...I'm not a fashionista, I will never have an etsy shop and while I do just fine with pets, I can't seem to keep a plant alive.  But you know what?  I know how to ask where the toilet is in 4 different languages.