Compliments of the Girl with the Red Arm

I forget occasionally that the point of this blog is not for the people who are reading, but for myself. A sort of therapy, if you will. I've always been one to write a three page freewrite when emotions reign high and delete it later on when I've become sane again. So I'll try to write to myself and no one else.
Compliments. Positive things. Jared wouldn't claim me to be a glass-half-full type of person. More of a dooms-day worry wart type. My sisters picked My Song as the one from Independence Day-It's the End of the World as we Know it, and I feel fine. Kind of like every day is the end of the world. And maybe it is, I certainly try to live like it is. Because who really knows, huh? So, appropriate song. But I'm trying to establish my character here. A bit negative, kind of anxious. That sound right? I agree. But at the same time, I decided a while ago in life that if I think something positive, it should be said. Because what good is a positive thought if it's just stuck in your head? Does it really help anyone else? I mean, what good is sugar in a cabinet if you never take it out and bake something for someone with it? What good is a bath if you pour the hot water, wait 3 hours and forget about it until the next morning? You've got to throw out the whole bath! If you know me, you'll understand that that is a crime against humanity. Baths rock.
So, when I think something positive, I spew it out. Even to people I don't know. Compliments just come. And they're honest and truthful and I tell myself that maybe someone will appreciate them and it will make a difference. How many times have you thought--wow, she looks really pretty today! Or, great mascara, etc. It doesn't all have to be physical comments either. It can consist of character traits I admire, certain things I appreciated, etc. And so the world hears my compliments. So I may be a bit worrisome, but at least I'm getting the good part out. At least it's doing something for someone. Maybe it will negate my negativity. Who knows? But who really cares? I'm not doing it for someone's opinion about me. But maybe, just maybe, I'm doing it because once I asked this girl at BYU (who looked 9 months pregnant) when her baby was due and then she said she wasn't pregnant and I went home a prayed that I wouldn't ruin her self esteem. And so I vowed to build people up in an honest way and find things that others wouldn't normally mention. And I'll NEVER ask anyone that question again. That was just horrible. I still feel terrible.