The Value of Silly

It's recurrent. I'm chased by the men with no-faces past whirring masses of grey trees, their gain ever increasing until right when I'm about to be grabbed, a mere fingertip away, I wake up heaving in sweat. Or is it tears? The last time I had such a lovely nighttime vision, I managed to pull myself out of its heaviness only by Googling photos of puppies and kittens. Yes, puppies and kittens. It's cliched, but I know with a passion why sites like LOL Cats beget such devotion. They are the balm to our terrorized psyche. And there are so many terrors out there, aren't there? Little ones and bigger ones, piling like everyday dust into our psyche until they're indistinguishable, leaving us with only a vague sense of not being whole. For me, it's the Khmer Rouge. For you, it may be the inability to feel something for your wife.

The Germans have a word Weltschmerz, which broadly translates to world sensitivity or sadness or more precisely, the psychological pain caused by sadness that can occur when realizing that someone's own weaknesses are caused by the inappropriateness and cruelty of the world and (physical and social) circumstances. I prefer the broad definition, broad strokes only please, for the melancholy I'm wallowing in, no need for pinpointing. On the rare occasion I am more motivated, I disentangle the root of my restlessness and see that my inability to wholly function -- the word wholly is relevant, as I think I can fake it with the best of them -- stems from my early childhood. It's like no matter how much I pretend to be gregariously "normal" at a social function, something in the deep recesses of my psyche screams, but you're different! You made it out of Phnom Penh a mere day and a half before the men with no-faces swept in and gunned down your family and entire country. So fake it if you must, but here's the truth. And then I'm left standing there, the gregarious smile fading, covered with only figurative sweat. Or is it tears?

So yes, today I am a silly person to an extent, the silliness being my balm, my own personal LOL Cats. Perhaps these little pastimes preoccupy me to a greater extent than they should any sane adult, but as such they've been successful at keeping the heaviness at bay. Instagram? Anti-fashion fashion? Selfies that re-form my identity? Yes, yes, yes.