The Bright Side

by Marian Klatt

Some mornings I take my charge out into the cold, cold winter, and we walk the ten terrible feet to the car. Huddled in the warmth of the gasping old car, the youngun shouts his new word, "Car! Car!" which I agree with. We travel to the bookstore, where we brave the parking lot on foot, occasionally breaking into a toddler-paced run. Inside, we make a path straight to the cafe. I snag a magazine as we zip past the endless racks--what will it be today? Not-so-Cottage Living? Crochet Your Way to Happiness?--and then indulge in our individual delights. (He: vanilla biscotti. Me: Verona blend, tall.) I put in sugar, but cream only if the barista isn't looking. (I always say I don't want room for cream, but then I like to add a drop or two if I can. But who really needs three inches for cream?)

We then make another straight path across the cafe floor, where the boy will often wave and say, "Bye bye!" to everyone in sight. They often say, "Bye bye!" back. We go to the train table, where he is absolutely the most polite two-year-old ever to play. Seriously. Which is why I can bring along a magazine, and read most of it while I sip my dark brew.

Yesterday I picked up O Magazine, which had a two-page bit from Dr. Phil wherein he told us everything that was in his book about how to find love (but-only-if-you're-looking-for-it-because--we're-not-saying-you-need-a-relationship-to-be-happy-just-if-you-happen-to-be-looking-read-my-book). It was basically this: love yourself first, be genuine, and take time getting to know people. Then I got to the other part of the magazine--the part that doesn't include Dr. Phil, but still tells you How to Make Your Dreams Come True. That broke down as: Do what you enjoy. Take small steps to continue getting better at what you enjoy. Make plans, but don't be afraid to take chances.

I started to feel dissatisfied. This was all so basic, so simple. Weren't there any nuggets of insight in this issue? Then it hit me: there was a time when this wasn't basic to me, when I didn't know how easy it was to do things you enjoyed, or thought I had to have a perfect body for a guy to like me.

Coincidentally, I picked up my old diaries from one of those ages in the evening, thinking I'd find funny things about my past self to post in my online journal and giggle over with friends. Instead, I cringed like a dog with her nose too close to the fire. It was the most painful thing to read, and I kept shaking my head at how foolish I once was. The thing that really pained me, however, was not that I was boy-crazy, nor that I pretended to be into things like makeup and hair. Rather, I was deeply mad at myself for the lack of genuine feeling in the words I wrote in my personal space, as if the teeny-bop image I'd gleaned from movies, books, and television were so appealing to me that I was trying to sell it to myself.

It did lead me--in a strange, roundabout way--to a turning point. I stopped and asked myself, Looking back in fifteen years, is there anything in my current journal that might pain me so greatly? At first, I could think of nothing, and I prided myself on being the genuine, honest, caring person I should have been as a teenager. However, as I flipped through the pages from the imagined perspective of a 45-year-old, I realized the thing that would most shame me was my negative thoughts toward friends. Granted, a journal is supposed to be an airing of such daily gripes. At least for me, it is a wonderful way to keep annoyances to myself so I don't take them out on others.

However, I couldn't deny a thread of negativity. I noticed I get judgmental rather often, and while I have mostly let go of gossip, I am still letting myself feel many of the same emotions it accompanies. Instead of talking about it, however, I indulge in the inner monologue. I can't believe she would do something that immature and inconsiderate to others. What a childish way of living. It's often about something that is not at all my business, and yet I'll still stand back and point the mental finger, making myself feel like I'm a just a little bit better than they are.

I made a vow to myself at that moment. Anytime I catch myself indulging in this kind of destructive thinking from now on, I will try to think of something positive about that person instead. I will remember friends are best had when we focus not on what we don't like about them, but on the qualities that make them dear to us.

The Author

Marian Klatt is an aspiring freelance writer, an aspiring electrician, an aspiring personal organizer, and an aspiring sailboat bum. In practical matters, she works as a full-time nanny while she takes conversational Italian, the very last class she must finish before receiving that lovely piece of parchment.