Sometimes, I feel as though I'm in a time warp (not the fun Rocky Horror Picture Show kind; rather, the normal non-fun kind), and I've been magically transported back to seventh grade. Ah, Middle School.


Come on, people. Really.


I am not perfect. I can be just as manipulative and passive-aggressive as anyone else. The difference is that I'm good at it, so if I'm going to manipulate someone, he or she won't even know it's been done. I choose not to manipulate people, because I think that's taking unfair advantage of others who didn't get the same kind of training I did. It's like Jedi school, but without the lightsabers.


Taking this into account, I'm still feeling rather fed up with everyone who has decided to fight battles on Facebook. Again, not perfect over here. I have not, however, lost all ability to communicate my displeasure face to face. IN PERSON. This is because...wait for it...I'm a grownup.


Grownups do not make pissy Facebook statuses in response to everyone else's pissy Facebook statuses. They simply stop reading them, or they just roll their eyes and laugh it off. We don't use Facebook as a tool to tell other people how we feel about them and receive constant validation in return. Facebook is a place to play games, have brief birthday contact with people one hasn't seen since high school, and to put up pictures of puppies, children, and funny sayings.


It is not going to teach anyone else a lesson, and most of the time attempts to have any meaningful impact on someone else's life are going to be thwarted.


Can't we all just be nice? I am happy because I choose to be happy, not because my life is perfect. My life is super un-perfect, and I grumble and groan and complain in my blog, but I choose to be happy. I choose to love other people. Everyone. Even people I don't really like. Still love them (except for that one stinky lady, but I'm pretty sure she's not human...I think she may be some kind of space alien, sent to suck out our souls with her overwhelming stench and her evil...I said I wasn't perfect, and I'm working on that one).


I complain here because I don't want to complain in real life. I do way too much screwing up to want to place other people under a microscope. I don't look any prettier under that thing than they do. If someone hurts one of my friends, I will cut him. Or her. Otherwise, I will try to put up with things and hope that I can correct my own mistakes and it will make enough of a difference that I can stand it. Or that someone who is actually capable of doing something about the situation will notice whats happening and take action (highly unlikely, but technically possible). 


So, I love you all, but sometimes the nastiness and passive-aggressiveness makes me want to put the smack down. The odds are in my favor, too...have you not seen my Popeye-like forearms? We do not have to all be best friends just because we're thrown together eight hours a day. So maybe be an adult and take care of your emotional business on your own time. We've got work to do, and when I'm in there, I want to be like a machine. There should be nothing higher on my list of priorities than getting as much work done as I possibly can. I have had unbelievable amounts of stuff go down, and somehow made it in without complaining. I have a chronic illness that makes me feel really horrible every single day of my life, and I still get up and go in. Everyone is capable of that. I promise. Go in and work as hard as possible. It may not be more enjoyable, but the day certainly goes by faster and there won't be anything to feel guilty about when it's over (yes, I feel guilty when it seems like I didn't work hard enough...as I've said, I have issues).


I'll do the same, and I won't think bad things about anyone else, and I'll smile and be kind, because maybe I just like being nice to people (maybe that's part of what makes me happy), and everyone else will do it and it'll be like a big old hippie commune, minus the drugs and the b.o. Well, most of the b.o.


Jokes are optional, but I really like them. A sense of humor goes a long way. Maybe I'll think you're smiling because you're nice, while you're really laughing at me on the inside, and that's okay.


I'm probably laughing at you, too. Aren't we fun?