Compliments & Complaints

Two words. 9 of the same letters & yet such different meanings.

I like television. On one hand I do believe in the idiot box theory – hell, I’m watching Paul Blart: Mall Cop right now – but that’s also because I kind of have a crush on Kevin James, but that’s a post for another day. Television is also a friend I can talk to when I’m getting cabin fever and just need some adult time. My daytime television program of choice is Days of Our Lives – judge me, I don’t care. I fucking love Stephano, his 29 lives and the bastard son EJ who pretty much sprang into existence as I can’t remember who the hell his mother is – yeah, I’ve been watching this show since kindergarten – seriously. If I miss Days, whatever is on is usually fine. Once in a while I will turn on Oprah. Now that she’s fat again she doesn’t annoy me as much as she used to. BUT, I hate her catch phrases. Not only do I not have a “Va-jay-jay”, but I seriously question if you know how to use yours properly if you call it that. My vagina has never, ever done anything cute enough to warrant being called something that sounds like a cocktail drink you would order from a girl named Barbi.

That been said, I hope you understand how it pains me to say I have had an “aha moment”.

I just threw up in my mouth a little.

I’ve been blogging for about 6 months. 180 days. Enough time for a Canadian cheque to stale date – barely. Not nearly enough time to have insight into anything worth sharing. That is why it always surprises me when someone says “I love your blog“, “I’m bummed when you haven’t posted for a while” or “I love checking your site for new posts“. It is usually met with something really articulate like, “meh, phhhhpt, it’s nothing“. Why is it so difficult to accept a compliment? I would much rather bitch about something than accept a compliment.

Why do I discount compliments? I know I’m not alone on this. I have come to believe that accepting – truly accepting – a compliment, may have the ability to penetrate the cracks in your heart. That’s some seriously deep shit. And scary shit. I don’t like acknowledging the cracks in my cornbread let alone my freaking heart.

I’ve had this sweater for years

Really? It’s been driving me nuts, I want to hack it off

Ugh, I doubt it, I’ve probably put on 5 pounds

Sound familiar? Yah, you’re not alone.

I’m not wanting to go all Deepak Chopra on you – I’m more like Jack Handy with a bra. Sometimes.

Compliments and encouragement are gifts you can bestow every single day without spending a cent. I’m not saying live life being a suck, but be genuine. I need to complain less. As a rule. I think I give compliments, but can guarantee probably not enough. I need to accept compliments as the gifts that they are. Little validations that tell me I am doing okay and probably not as much as a screw up as I think I am. So if you are one of those people who were kind enough to compliment me, I humbly thank you.

I have to stop blogging now. I’m watching Californication & cannot be distracted – Kathleen Turner just dropped the c-bomb. Paul Blart & Hank Moody in one evening. It’s like the wet dream for the emotionally disturbed. Or me.

I will leave you with Oscar Wilde ~ Nowadays we are all so hard up that the only pleasant things to pay are compliments.


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