Sunday Scribblings; Two Cents

I have been out of town all weekend and so haven't been able to read any of the new Sunday Scribblings responses. I DO see however, that the site was the Yahoo pick of the day yesterday. Yay, us!

I'm quite glum today and approaching a stretch of treacherous overwork that will cause me to seem to disappear from the universe, but I haven't missed a Sunday Scribble yet and don't plan to. So I'm going to sort of unhinge my forehead and see what spills out:

Two cents. I don't know where the expression comes from, but to me in my current state, two shiny pennies in a pocket in no way sums up the need to GIVE MY OPINION. It's more like a sulfur-spewing dragon perched on my shoulder, threatening to incinerate anyone who comes too close. Pennies? They seem so sweet and inoffensive, like something Laura Ingalls got in her Christmas stocking, along with a stick of candy and an orange. When the need to share my thoughts builds in me... it's like a Hindenburg waiting to happen. But I don't WANT to be that person, the explosive know-it-all -- who likes an explosive know-it-all? -- so I try to bite it back. I let the conversation play and replay in my head (or, as the case may be, in my email, carefully unaddressed so I don't hit "send" by accident!) and I'm always so much more clever in my head, with no one snapping back. Often these little theatrical dialogues in my mind are all I really need, an outlet to diminish the fury of righteousness that has built up in me. Then, having triumphed in this scene of my imagining, I can proceed in a much more charitable way to address whatever real issue exists. Dragon temporarily tamed.

Right now, as it happens, my dragon is suffering the indigestion of swallowing too much of its own sulphur, because you know, you can't always say what you want to say. Sometimes the pennies have to stay in your damn pocket. I recall how blithely I would "fire" customers when I worked retail as a teenager, giving my 2 cents as if it was my duty to point out to people how unsophisticated and simple they were. (Ah, bookstore clerks! How superior they think themselves!) Later, working for myself: a world of difference. Ah, how I could bite my tongue to not risk losing a sale when the money was bound for my own meager wallet! I guess that's part of growing up. Knowing that saying whatever is on your mind is not ALWAYS the best way of getting what you want. Diplomacy: you know, knowing how to behave in a situation, like when NOT to give the German chancellor a shoulder rub! HA!

[In unrelated but exciting news, two people have told me they've spotted Laini's Ladies in the Skymall Magazine on recent flights. How cool is that?]