Laughter – The Best Armour

Yes, I know I have departed from the conventional, with this title, but it seemed apt for the theme I’m going to expand upon. And forgive me, if I tend to sound a wee bit superior while holding forth about this; for, as anyone who’s well acquainted with me will vouchsafe, there’s rarely any situation which does not find me in stitches over something (or at times, over nothing at all), thus making me count myself as quite an expert on the subject.
[If you haven’t found anything ridiculous in the above declaration, your sense of humour needs medication. -_-]

Anyway. What is laughter supposed to guard one against, you ask? Well, chiefly, against all those minor irritants and annoyances one inevitably faces in life, not so serious by themselves – but invariably adding up to what everyone in this century suffers from – that never-decreasing plague called stress.

What is one supposed to laugh at, you ask? I think this is best summed up by Lizzy Bennet in Pride and Prejudice, when she says, “I hope I never ridicule what is wise and good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can.” Remember this, my friends, remember this.

It does rankle, when laughter is used as a tool for belittling others, and rightly so. There are plenty of occasions wherein one can enjoy a good joke without making fun of someone else. For instance, while travelling today, I found my fellow commuter to be so sorely afflicted with sleepiness, that her head seemed to be in some danger of falling forward (or, to my greatest consternation, on to myself.) I spent the greater part of my journey watching its progress – I’m sure that every one of us has seen such a sight some time, to know what I’m talking about– and I admit, I couldn’t help but be affected by a strong desire to chuckle – whenever I expected her to fall, but she didn’t, righting herself at the last moment (Eliciting a sigh of relief from my side, each time.) But my laughter wasn’t ridiculing. I daresay I’d have laughed, if I’d seen myself in such a condition too.

What is the point of this monologue, you ask? (I realize I’ve taken a great liberty in answering questions which you may never have wanted answered. Bear with me.) It’s to impart the following message:
Laugh.Laugh.Laugh now.
Better that than to set aside time, stand in a circle and laugh over nothing in the years to come. -_-

Advertisements

The Pimple That Launched A Thousand Cures

I yawn as I rub my eyes, and open my eyes to a new day. It’s a normal weekday, and as I brush my teeth, I look cursorily into  the mirror, and do a double take. My nose is shiny and pink. Pink?? I go all,‘Oh no,no no no no no no no.This is bad, very, very bad ‘ ,unconsciously imitating Flynn Rider in Tangled. Right now my nose resembles that of Rudolph the reindeer, but I know it won’t be long before it turns from being pink to being a pimple.

Believe me, I’ve had enough experience battling these blights on my complexion- blame them on hormones or heritage, they’ve plagued me no end since I entered teenage. As a friend put it the other day, I have a face like a baby’s – babies are pink and white-the “pink” on my face being these accursed blemishes!!(It’s NOT funny!)  Or, in my current state, I seem to look as though I’ve been weeping my heart out and rubbing my nose raw (or as if someone’s bitten my nose, but that’s an analogy I’d rather not use -_-)

And, being right on my face, they’ve made me the object of solicitude of not only my acquaintances, but strangers as well. For example, I meet someone, and they ask me, “Do you know you have a pimple on your nose?”, as if it was a fly that sat down there, and I hadn’t noticed. Or I’ll be out shopping with my parents, and the clerk tells my mother about his sister who was similarly afflicted, and the ointment which supposedly cured her (but which doesn’t work on me!). Or a gypsy-like lady in the bus promises me her medicine will clear my face, won’t I just try it? The whole experience was enough to make me feel that covering my face with a veil, while interacting with the world, might not be such a bad option!

But they’ve certainly taught me how compassionate people can be.  People may or may not compliment you when you’re looking good, but they certainly speak up when you’re looking sick(ly).Everyone who notices the zits, also offers advice on what they think is THE medicine which will definitely cure it, but I smile politely, and take it as the suggestion it is- if I followed all that I heard, my face would probably resemble the moon (with the largest craters).

Well, I don’t know when I’ll finally be rid of this menace (yes, I know I should put up photos to increase this post’s popularity, but I totally draw the line at subjecting my poor beleaguered visage to more scrutiny), but till then, to all fellow sufferers – Keep hope alive!

P.S: And worry not, for when even hope doesn’t exist, we’ll still have Photoshop! 😉