First, let me admit that “cranky” isn’t precisely the word to describe me. In fact, it’s perhaps a little bit kind.

I can be damned difficult and I have been lately for many of those around me.

My blog yesterday generated some blowback.

And, I suppose I could rationalize and justify myself to a fare-the-well as I often do.

However, when I’m at odds with several different people at the same time and when those people have several different types of relationships — family, professional, associational — one must consider the notion that the common denominator is, well, me.

One part of problem that is me is something that was in yesterday’s post: I’m attached to my expectations and let them turn into resentment. I’ve got a strong notion of how things SHOULD be, and when things don’t turn out that way, I get resentful and snippy and maybe even just downright rude and impossible to please.

I have some sort of Miracle on 34th Street idea of how Christmas should be.

I have a Sleepless in Seattle, Casablanca idea of how romance should be.

I have a Gay Talese “Thy Neighbor’s Wife” idea of how sex should be.

I have a To Kill a Mockingbird idea of how law practice should be.

Oh, how I wish it were only so simple as for me to simply see that I’ve bought into some myth or another fostered by the media and to just get right with Jesus about how the world simply is.

But, there’s more.

I’ve also got this deeply invested sense of myself (who knows exactly what the right words might be) and I’m opinionated and very articulate and accustomed to being right and capable of brushing aside all argument to the contrary.

Whenever I feel that my expectations are being challenged, I go into a mode that loves precise and vivid speech delivered emphatically. You read it all the time in this blog — a sense of entitlement to be heard and believed and understood and, ultimately, persuaded by me that I am 100 percent right in every nuance.

Another SHOULD.

There are a great many other SHOULDS.

Everyone in the entire world SHOULD give me some slack when the moon is at its ebb or the clouds have been around for three days or more or when I magically decide there isn’t enough money in the checking account or whimsically decide that a cadre of middle age women must line up to be chosen to enter my harem.

I SHOULD be the best read Oklahoma blog. Hell, I should be the best read blog in the world. What are those people thinking?

The SHOULDS stretch out to magnificant lengths, far beyond the horizon.

Every SHOULD an expectation, every expectation an unripe resentment to kick off some more crankiness.

And for every SHOULD, the strongest points about my personality, the treasures and talents of intelligence, education and articulation, become daggers in the heart of my contentment and serenity because I’ve used them badly.

One of the most ironic and sad parts of all this is how much I hate confrontation and adversarial relationships. It consistently makes me sad and hurt to be in a disagreement. Once it’s at its end, I always rake myself over the coals for my missteps and poor choices. As many of you know, I dislike practicing my profession and this is one of the reasons — my job consists of picking fights and my interior won’t let me “win”.

When I said in yesterday’s post that I couldn’t tell you what I want for Christmas but that I’ll sulk if no one gets it “right”, that’s funny because it is absolutely the hard rock truth.

I can’t be pleased.

That is not a statement that should be taken as relating to Christmas alone.

I can’t be pleased by me and I’m not about to let anyone else be pleasing to me for very long in any relationship of any kind.

I hate confrontation and arguments, but I seem to start them at every side.

So, there you have it.

And screw you and the horse you rode in on.

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