Sunday, May 17, 2009

The Shellfish Gene

I am biologically programmed to be the person who says that things are going to be okay. And behave as if things are okay - rosy, even - even if they aren't. If someone asks me if I am okay, or if things are okay, or if I think they, or a situation, or a menu item, or a sick kitten or flesh wound or atomic war or blind date is going to be okay, my answer will invariably be yes. This tends to result in a lot of nervous and generally inappropriately-timed laughter on my part, as a vital part of every rosy situation involves giggling in my warped worldview, and I also need to buy time to crank out a rationale for saying things are going to be okay when it is clear that they aren't. (Blind dates are never okay.) But I just can't help myself.

In a terrible twist of fate, I am secretly also biologically programmed with a) naturally elevated levels of anxiety, b) natually elevated levels of bitterness and distortion and c) a vivid imagination with a knack for defaulting to the worst-possible-case-scenario. In short, I am probably the least likely person to actually believe anything is going to be okay, ever, but my unfortunate tendency to blurt out sanguine snippets and laugh nervously when confronted with traumatic events causes people in distress to gravitate toward me like toddlers to potted plants, seeking elucidation on the silver lining that must surely be clear to me in all my ostensible optimism.

If only I were religious, I could just pass the buck to God. When people ask why I'm so convinced they/their kitten/their blind date will be okay, I could pat their hands and say something really... biblical. I can't think of any good biblical examples right now, most likely because I am not religious, but religious people always seem to have some sort of perky adage for troubled times. Like divine fortune cookies. Probably without the lucky lotto numbers on the back because most of the gods out there don't seem to be in favour of gambling.

Though they did let my ex-husband loose on the world with his vas deferens intact and his brain stem not so much... and if that isn't a gamble I don't know what is.

And hey, speak of the devil - congrats on yet more offspring, Colin! What's that you say? Unplanned, again?

Don't worry, I'm sure everything will work out okay.

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