Sarcasm Is My Gift. What Is Yours?

I enjoy the Flair* application on Facebook. It’s just about the only application that I enjoy. The other applications on Facebook I could definitely leave behind. They just clutter my space and sometimes annoy me. But with Flair, you get to select your Flair (i.e. your slogan pins to display), and there are a million to choose from, and they keep me laughing.

My current favorite piece of Flair reads:

Sarcasm is my gift. What’s yours?

I love that line. Sarcasm really can be a gift, but I continue to learn that people have their own levels of sarcasm tolerance...

My Dad is really sarcastic, and as a teenager, I didn’t always appreciate it like I do now. I thought he was spiteful, and his words stung. Now case in point, I was probably one of THE most moody adolescent/teenage girls ever. [Yes, that just might be my claim to fame: Melanie put the melan in melancholy!] I was always reflecting and over-analyzing life, retreating into my bedroom to read books, riding off on my bike alone, journaling about my future dreams, sobbing over the poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, brooding over the Bronte sisters’ writings, day dreaming and writing romantic stories. Yeah, I was quite a piece of work, let me tell you. A real social butterfly.

So throw a sarcastic Dad into the mix with this jumbled ball of emotions that I was, and you can just imagine the scene. I was overly sensitive about everything. I would cry at one harsh word. I was always running from the room and back to my haven (my room) or running outside to escape on my bike, sure that my parents could never understand what I was going through. At times, I would get quite mouthy with my parents, too. And do you know how my parents would punish me? They would take away my library card. [Key up the sad music...] Nothing but pure torture for my little dramatic soul. My lifeline was removed, my best friends (my books) were confiscated, and I was forced to join the rest of the family to play Yahtzee or Scrabble. Life was cruel.

So let’s flash forward twenty years...I am really NOT that girl any more. Yes, I can be dramatic. I can be intense. I can be reclusive at times. I can get wrapped up in a book and forget the rest of the world for hours. I can lose myself in a BBC production and reemerge convinced that true love will forever elude me and be melancholy for about a minute before bouncing back. Gone is the girl who cried over sarcasm or spilt milk. In fact I use sarcasm regularly, maybe too much. [Have you guys noticed?]

I have a couple of friends that actually think I am down on myself when I laugh or make fun of my own antics. This is totally not the case. I’m not depressed. I don’t have low self-image just because I can mock myself well. My use of sarcasm is a coping mechanism. By choosing to laugh at myself, I am overtaking the drama of the moment and not wallowing in self-pity or anger. Laughter is my antidote, like breathing. It is my attempt to keep sane amidst the highs and lows of this treasured existence GOD has given me, life. [And I'm NOT being sarcastic here. I do treasure life!]

Now I recognize that there are sad or tragic moments that we all must face, and I am well aware that there are moments when sarcasm is not appropriate. I’ve been guilty of that a time or two...trying to diffuse the moment and get someone to laugh when they just aren’t there yet. As Proverbs 14:10 says:

Each heart knows its own bitterness, and no one else can share its joy.

Yes, I still believe that sarcasm is a gift. [Thanks, Dad!] BUT it is a gift that needs to be used wisely, cautiously, sparingly and sometimes not at all. Like I said I'm still learning...

*NOTE: For those of you familiar with Office Space, I am pleased to report that I have more than the required 15 pieces of Flair. I know, I'm an over-achiever. Hee hee!