On wit

I had a sort of epiphany today. It happened just as I was talking to someone online, actually. It's long been a matter of some distress to me that my wit tends to come and go, rather like a cheap hustler. I could not, for the life of me, figure out what sort of currency would convince the little hussy to stay for a while, as I enjoy having her around. I pause in an aside to note how interesting it is that my wit seems to be female. Normally when I think of wittiness, I consider that paragon of mental agility, Oscar Wilde. I had thought that the personification of that rather fleeting aspect of my personality to be a British gentleman in a finely tailored suit, making snide remarks while eating cucumber sandwiches. But no, my wit wears a black and red bustier, and she is not afraid of showing off her more prominent attributes.

So epiphany, yes! I've discovered that at least one secret ingredient is cynicism. That's it. Nothing terribly esoteric about it. I'm a fairly observant person, when I want to be, and I'm dreadfully creative when I feel like it as well. It is, I think, the optimism that's the problem. A rapier wit usually isn't used to encourage someone to strive for their dreams. Speaking poinards, as it were, is somewhat detrimental when you're urging the chubby girl to shake her bon bons, baby! If that's her dream. Unless you're being cruel, and I'd sooner spoon out my eyes than be intentionally cruel. There's more than enough of that to go around as it is.

Maybe that's why I can verbally spar with my Blacksburg crew so much. The closer I feel to someone, the freer I feel about making fun of him mercilessly. Particularly if his name starts with a C, ends with a y, and he refuses to respond with a barb as pointed as mine. Except that one time, when the Battle of Midway was apparently between Godzilla and Alexi's Mom. But that's a story for another evening.

So I just have to tempt out my sultry inner wench of wit using a sufficiently bleak world view. Ahmmmm...let's see. There is no ultimate meaning behind everything, no place under Heaven, no plan external to what we have to make for ourselves. For better for worse, our meaning and our place in the universe is what we make of ourselves. Even if the insensate stars are ultimately uncaring, it is enough that there are people down here who do care for us, and care deeply, and for their sake we have to make as good a go of it as we can. We will determine ourselves whether our legacy is one of hatred and violence, or one of tolerance and understanding.

Huh. I think that kinda backfired. I was going more for an angsty sort of, "Life is pain. We suck. Rock on!"....damn! Where did that come from? I don't think "Rock on" is part of the goth creed.

Ah well. Even if I must surrender a bit of the edge on my words, I guess for now I'll stay a tried and true optimist.