You know how in college, 96.8% off all new conversations start with, "what's your major?" (For those who haven't ever lived in a college town, the other 3.2% of conversations likely come from someone sporting a Tweety Bird t-shirt and begin with some version of, "and did you see the last episode of Stargate?!?" Sigh.) Well, anyway, I once had the good forturne of stumbling across one particularly intelligent male specimen (at ward prayer, naturally) who, upon learning of my course of study, decided on this course of conversation:
Him: "Um, wow. So you, like, wanna take babies away from their moms, huh?" (Winks in an attempt to be witty.)
Me: (with the blankest expression I can muster) " Sure. But only if you slap them around first."
And I neatly slunk away, leaving him to chat with my cute roommate. If memory serves, she was clad in a Minney Mouse hoodie, eager to discuss the deep plot line of the latest episode of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer.
Anyway, the point of all this rambling is that I'm having a little trouble connecting to my Inner Sanctum of Happy Heritage today.
Normally, I don't mind my job much. Ever seen Scrubs? The social worker at that hospital "vomits sunshine" all over the place. To be honest, it's a fairly apt and downright hilarious description of our world, and it's even funnier if you happen to actually be a hospital social worker, like mwah.
Today, I just can't seem to connect to the cheerfully dizzying nausea of being pleasant all day. From time to time, my little Jimminy Cricket says: "H'lo? What's wrong with you? You've chosen to work in a cancer building. And to work trauma at a children's hospital in the middle of the night. Have you no heart?" Usually, I can convince myself it's because I have a little heart. But not today. I've been all wrapped up in myself and feeling supremely 'eh' about the whole thing.
I've been trying to convince myself all morning that there is simply no reason for it. After all, I am wearing new pants and have my zebra stripe purse with me today. I should be absolutely exploding with joy.
You know what I need? A good lecture on why it is not at all weird and/or worthy of sarcasm to watch a show where some of the antagonists have actual horns. Something tells I've heard the lecture several times before. Multiple times, prolly, from the aforementioned roommate. I think she was wearing a cartoon shirt.