I complain a lot. I don’t want to complain so much. It just oozes out of my pores. I don’t know if it’s from growing up in New York City in the 1970’s with the grime and the dirt and the subways rattling in my ears. Or maybe it’s the Jewish side of me. Or maybe it’s the ¼ Italian. I don’t know. I just complain or as they say in Yiddish, Kvetch.

Sometimes my daughter and wife liken me to George on Seinfeld. I kind of look like George (Jason Alexander) when I don’t shave my head to look badass. If I let my hair on my mostly balding head grow out and I start complaining and kvetching, they say I’m acting like George.

I don’t want this. Not that I have anything against George. Or being half Jewish and Italian or from New York. It’s just I don’t want to be such a complainer.

It doesn’t seem to matter if 95% of my life is going right. I’ll still find something to complain about. It doesn’t matter if I’m walking, talking, feeling healthy, out in the store with my wife, my beautiful wife, who’s also walking, talking, feeling healthy and just generally an amazing person—I’ll still find something to complain about.

Mostly about the shitty music they pipe in through those shitty speakers on the ceiling. And if a Katy Perry song comes on, or any one of those new songs, new and fancy and just grinding in my ear—I’ll start complaining.

We could be looking for a pot holder, a pillow, a throw rug or another comforter for our beautiful bed we’ve shared for many years.

I’ll just start complaining about the music in the store. My wife said she tunes it out. I can’t tune it out. It’s just produced in such a way as to feel like an ice pick in my ear.

So there I go complaining again.

Other times, I’m just silly. I seem to flip back and forth on a pendulum from moody, complaining, morose, or sometimes mildly depressed to full-blown silly.

I like the silly side. I feel free. I feel as if my spirit is sailing through the air and I’m just havin’ a good damn time.

I want to be less cranky and more silly.

And the other day I was complaining to one of my friends about Katy Perry and how I didn’t like her music (sorry Katy) and he—one whom I respect as a music connoisseur—one who likes really cool music, older music, a music head—said you’re not down with Katy Perry?

And I thought to myself, “Shit. Even he likes Katy Perry. I need to rethink my  strategy.” 

And then, to top it off, how’s this for synchronicity? I have a book of quotes; one of those little morning motivational books you write in and read real cool quotes on a daily basis. It’s called, I Totally Got This: A Journal to remind myself that I am truly awesome…

(It’s a great little book. One of the best motivational journals I’ve ever used.)

My daughter got it for me as a Christmas present. Somewhere about a third into the book I stopped writing in it on a daily basis. Why? Because I’m lazy and can’t keep a routine going for too long before starting a new one.

Each day starts with a quote and then there’s a blank lined page with “Why I Totally Got This Today” at the top. And you list all the reasons you’re in control of your life or ways to motivate yourself and bounce your day off the cool quote on the left side of the pages.

So anyway, back to Katy Perry. Last night I randomly decided to open the book and fill my head with a quote before dozing off for the night.

Here’s the page I landed on:

I am a champion and you’re gonna hear me roar…

From who? Katy Perry.

So shit.

I might just need to get more silly and open up to new possibilities and sounds and musical artists.

I think I’ll start with Katy Perry.

I think I’ll at least look up that song that quote is from.

And give it a fair listen.

And the next time I’m in some home store with my wife, I’m gonna refrain from complaining about the music.

I might just dance through the aisles singing whatever song is being piped through those cheap tinny speakers.

A fully silly, less cranky man.