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Don’t feed the Ogres, pls!

I try to be the kind of person who can weather the rain with a bit of a smile (and sometimes with a li’l jiggle).  Yes, I have noticed that when it rains it pours and in these conditions it would be wiser to keep your head down, your mouth shut and your wellies on. But, as usual, I refuse*). Another thing that I have noticed is that the clothes that had those nice and reassuring “WATERPROOF” tags on when you bought them, are really *not* battle proven for Finland. But now I stray. What I meant to say was that I work hard to dig out the best in your average good-for-nothing Tuesday. And I smile a lot. And I also tell featherbrained jokes at inopportune moments. But I do it with the best intentions and always without ulterior motives.

Not all people do. There are always those who give optimism a bad name. They use the word “wonderful” so much that the “w” gets all worn and and the “on” goes off and the “d” has to leave to get a refill and the “ful” is suddenly empty, too. At the end, after too much excitement, all you have left of the “WONDERFUL”, is “ER”. Please stop bedeviling these words, I beg of you. I’m sure people will like you well enough, even without all the “glitter sparkle you’re the best ❤ <3” -commentary.

Because, you see, I am sometimes mistaken for this type of  WONDERFELLER (= the kind of person who will say all kinds of *wonderful* things about you or about life, but does it purely for PR-related reasons and for her daily dose of affirmation). Maybe you know what I mean.

In the last couple of years, I have weathered not only the cruel and unusual climate of Finland, but also vicious attacks by people who think I am way too technicolor happy (and probably too loud and surround sound, too). In truth, I am fighting a hard battle. But I find that the battle gets easier  with some high quality lipgloss, a truckload of coffee, a grin and a twinkle in my eye.

I never see these people coming. That’s my problem, you see. I usually tread lightly (and often with my head above the clouds and headphones on). I try not to offend even the most sawtoothed personalities. And then …  WHAM! … I am completely blindsided  and hit with a flame thrower. I am not made of asbestos, teflon, or ice. In fact, none of these options look like good choices for a personality. So I burn. And it stings.

Why is this? Why do bubbly people get the hate flame thrown at them? (Note: this is a rhetorical and hopeless question)

Actually, the reason why I am writing this bit of testimony at all is because just a week ago, the same happened to a dearly beloved friend of mine, also a bit of a “rainbow meets rock’n’roll” type of a person. Out of nowhere comes this TROLL and WHAM! there’s the insult splattered all over her wall. No reason, no motive, and more importantly NO APOLOGY. Apparently, a positive outlook on life, universe and everything (rather than whingeing about the mud and gravel of everyday life) brings out the Ogres. Oh dear. Maybe it is because they think we are fake, that we are one of the WONDERFELLERS (get it, a bit like Rockefeller, only fluffier, hahah … another featherbrained joke, I know).

We will never know. But I can be at least a bit more vigilant. Maybe try and spot the Ogres in the crowd. Even if they wear baseball caps and dark glasses.

Or … maybe I should just present a more elusive moving target. And buy GORETEX™. But no. No, thank you. I’ll just take my chances with the Ogres, I think. All I ask of you is that if you see one. An Ogre or a Troll, I mean. Don’t feed them. Also, I don’t think it’s a good idea to offer tea and biscuits to the WONDERFELLER either. Looks like they are fully stocked up with all kinds of sweets (they always seem to bake).  Just know that if I smile at you a bit too toothily, or tell a joke that is really not that funny, or if my eye twinkles with a greenish tint … I can’t help it, it’s just my nature, my way to rise above the rain.

*) I especially refuse the wellies. The day someone says I can’t wear my Ironfist heels to work will be the day that this *someone* gets acquainted with the sole designs for my Muerte Punk Princess Platforms. Which are nice, by the way.

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