a stellar smashing

The other day, at work, I was having a particularly bad day, which is pretty rare for me. Anyone I’m close to will tell you that I’m a happy person at heart, that I love people and love life and that it doesn’t take much for me to laugh, and to laugh loudly at that.

But.

I was having a bad day. We’re all entitled, right?

Anyway, in my bad day belch of negativity, I’m complaining to my co-worker about everything. Homework. Stress. Money. Weather. Work. Definitely, work.

My co-worker interrupts me to say, “Wow. I’m not used to this side of you.”

And I respond, with a smile, pleased to be taken as a generally happy person, “I know. This isn’t like me. I’m just having a really, really, really bad day. Sorry.”

“No, no,” he says. “I like you better this way. You’re more of a 3-dimensional character this way, as a character, you know? I mean, you’re a writer, you understand what I’m saying.”

I stop.

“So, what, I’m 2-dimensional every other day? Just because I’m happy?“

“I’m just saying I like this Naomi better. You’re more real, more human.”

“So, it’s not human to be happy.”

“That’s not what I’m saying–”

“No, you’re telling me I’m 2-dimensional because I choose to be happy, because that’s how I like to live.”

I walked away.

But, it got me thinking: what’s wrong with us? Are we so jaded as a people, as a community, that happiness has become shallow and lifeless? That, to be happy, something MUST be wrong with you, because no one who’s real and respected is truly happy?

Sad.