The Complainer That Lives Within

It was occurring to me as I got ready to write this blog- that my ass was hurting from the hard wooden seat underneath me...As you know from a prior post, I have been on the search to find my perfect cafe to set up shop in. An escape from the monotony of being a work at home writer...

So I am sitting here at Novel Cafe take Two--( after my miserable failure a couple of days ago!) Today however is a new day and  I finally have the perfect spot-- wonderfully coolish, by the window, extension chord long enough, signed up for a full day wireless access so no more annoying interruptions every hour to log in all my credit card information. I have already eaten a mediocre but not altogether horrible chocolate croissant, the music is nice and mellow, the crowd the same and.... My Butt Hurts.

 This latest distraction, I have been trying my best to work through as I answered emails, checked out some blog discussion forums ( by the way-- How I ask myself, does anyone have time to blog when they are so busy trying to get followers to theirs and reading all the other people's and I have not come up with that answer yet)

 I am dancing as fast as I can trying to get up to speed in the Blogosphere that I have entered and I still feel light years behind...and speaking of behinds -Mine Hurts!

I decided when I first began to blog a few months ago that rather than sitting around trying to figure out just what exactly to blog about each time, that I would simply write what was on my mind in the moment- go where the energy was so to speak and right now the energy is that what I am sitting on  is a totally uncomfortable wooden chair. What? No cushions?? How, I ask you, is a perfectly lovely blogger supposed to plant themselves down and let the muse take over, when said blogger's ass is on fire???

Didn't they even consider this-  I mean come on--couldn't the owners of the cafe have put a little thought into MY comfort level?

Then I look around.  There are a good twenty other writers here this morning all happily plugged in and pounding blissfully away on their keyboards ...No one brought their own cushion and no one else seems to be as miserably aware of  their bodily discomfort as I am. Then again if someone was looking a me right now, I probably seem to be pretty happy myself. Oh the things that go on behind the scenes of one's thoughts..if we only knew-- actually isn't that what blogging is about!

 Ahhh yes. And so  I decide, actually my gift, my truth, my honesty is EXACTLY what I have promised you in my initial plug to "keep it real" This promise is infact even in the subtitle for  my entire blog. I consider it my duty and my honor to tell it to you ( nothing held back) as it is - at the time- in all it's full glory ( or horror as the case often seems to be)

But why, I begin to obsess about , "Why am I such a complainer??? What is it in me that can just never roll with the punches that life inevitably throws out, with having a big commentary on each and every injustice," ( today's being, the lack of comfortable seating!)

My husband, (who was obviously raised in a non- complaining family--you know the type, they could get served worms on rice at a restaurant and still would quietly munch away--not wanting to make waves!) thinks that I am hell on wheels.

Not only do I make waves, I am a full on Sunami ! And I tell you  this , not because I am proud of it ( ok, may be just a tad-- I do tend to get things happening where others have no luck) but because it fascinates me. Am I simply making up for all the "meekies" that never raise hell or complain, or speak their mind? 

My family was known to try on three resteraunts in the course of one evening until one was okay. I am not kidding, humiliating as it was, my dad would up and drag us out, if the seating was not up to par, or the waitress took a few minutes too long getting over to us, or if there was a draft.... is it any wonder that I'm a mess?

It sure isn't the most attractive characteristic that I posses, this bitchy whiner that lives within. But in the spirit of acceptance , I will try not to judge "her" for the moment.

Here is my truth: I have absolutely no tolerance for stupidity, I wouldn't know patience if it slapped me upside the head, slow service, hard seats, automated voice mail systems "press 22 if you have ever had a cuticle removed in the third week of June"  are only the tip of the iceburg of my list of gripes on this frustrating Planet Earth.

And now I realize that I have spent my entire allotted blog writing time today once again , complaining. Not at all what I had imagined I would be creating when I plopped down this morning.

I am sure that this continuous stream of irritations that goes on within me  needs some prompt attention and I will have to get to that one of these days- until then I am off to find another cafe with a softer place to land.

Now, in my last defense, I must say this-- as much as I bitch and moan, when all is said and done-- I do have a really good heart, really!...I have met a lot of people who on the outside were full of smiles and soft kisses but dig just a bit deeper and you would find a stone cold person, that would leave you lying in the gutter without a thought, while other seeming "gruffies" on the outside, when I searched a little further had marshmallow hearts and the warmest of souls-

What lives inside truly does, in the end, matter.

That said, it is time for me to quiet the complainer that lives within me just a bit. If not for any other reason than because there just might be something grand to learn from it...not to mention having a  kinder more gentle spirit in the world...

Till then-- I will...

Just Love,

Patrice