Sunday, October 31, 2010

Contemplating the Meaning of Funk

I'm in a funk today. I woke up that way and it's been gathering steam. Maybe it started before I woke up. I think it began last night when I checked my mail and found out that a Facebook comment I made on Friday had offended someone. There was nothing I could do about it in any active sense, since I don't post to Facebook on Saturday nights for religious reasons (it's Shabbos somewhere in the world--don't want anyone to err on my account). But I could think about it, worry over it, and obsess.

It was about my friend Michael's hamster. Michael's beloved dog Phoebe passed away earlier this year, and now his hamster Diego had gone to that hamster heaven in the sky. I thought about what I wanted to say to him, something that showed I care yet put this sad event into perspective. I said the wrong thing--I guess. In retrospect--that is.

I wrote: "Maybe you should check the mezuzahs. First your dog, now your hamster..."

Concerned that this maybe sounded a bit cavalier, I added, "Sorry for your loss."

Well, someone didn't take kindly to my comments and said so: "
i dont appreciate that mezuza comment.."

"Oh no," I thought. "I did it again. Stuck that darned foot in my mouth again."

"Ouch!" I wailed internally. Yeah. I do stupid things and then I hurt. It's probable I hurt more than the people I hurt with my dumb words if that makes any sense.

So, I went into a funk.

Funk. It's an interesting word. It means a bad smell, a kind of cool music with a beat, and a state of depression. It also means to shrink back from something. Except for the bad smell part, it probably fits me to a T right about now. At least I haven't noticed anyone actively backing away from me today. At least. Thank God for soap and water. Still does the trick, far as I can tell.

Here is why I'm a writer: I take chances and say exactly what I feel, even if it means I go too far and end up regretting my words and wishing I could take them back so fast I'd choke on them, shrivel up, and croak, God Forbid. It means I'm too damned honest and will say what I think when I should shut the hell up. And it means I'm emotional and get embroiled in my own emotions. It's an innate kind of manic-depression that no drug can assist.

Some days I should probably just hide under a rock.

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