...or not.
About six minutes before the start of Easter Mass, as we were settling into the church pews, I turned to my son and whispered, "Hey, Lent's over. I can be snarky again."
You will recall that I gave up snark, in general as much as I could and specifically on this blog, for Lent. I started it out almost as joke, and even when I decided to do it for real felt like it was sort of a wishy-washy resolution, not nearly as difficult as praying a rosary every single day, or giving up chocolate, or, heaven forbid, wine.
But I grew surprised at how difficult it was. Sometimes I'd start to write a post and think, wait, I've got to reframe this. I have to think of another way of making the point I actually care to make.
According to my son, I failed once, in the last line of one of my posts. I told him that 1) he didn't see all the stuff I deleted; and 2) you can't fail a resolution. It's an attempt, not a contest.
My 40 days of conscious No Snark seems to have softened me in ways I didn't expect, didn't even think I needed. When you quit focusing on the stuff that's irritating you, you start having to say what you do believe, instead of what you don't. When you quit yelling at other people, you can hear them better. And when you quit being a grouch, even a principled, convincing grouch, you're happier. At least I am. Which is pretty cool, when you think about it.
About six minutes before the start of Easter Mass, as we were settling into the church pews, I turned to my son and whispered, "Hey, Lent's over. I can be snarky again."
You will recall that I gave up snark, in general as much as I could and specifically on this blog, for Lent. I started it out almost as joke, and even when I decided to do it for real felt like it was sort of a wishy-washy resolution, not nearly as difficult as praying a rosary every single day, or giving up chocolate, or, heaven forbid, wine.
But I grew surprised at how difficult it was. Sometimes I'd start to write a post and think, wait, I've got to reframe this. I have to think of another way of making the point I actually care to make.
According to my son, I failed once, in the last line of one of my posts. I told him that 1) he didn't see all the stuff I deleted; and 2) you can't fail a resolution. It's an attempt, not a contest.
My 40 days of conscious No Snark seems to have softened me in ways I didn't expect, didn't even think I needed. When you quit focusing on the stuff that's irritating you, you start having to say what you do believe, instead of what you don't. When you quit yelling at other people, you can hear them better. And when you quit being a grouch, even a principled, convincing grouch, you're happier. At least I am. Which is pretty cool, when you think about it.
No comments:
Post a Comment
The comments on this blog are now moderated. Yours will appear provided it's not hateful, crass, or annoying--and the definition of those terms is left solely to me.