Schadenfreude

Schadenfreude is "a malicious satisfaction obtained from the misfortunes of others." and while I appreciate it in myself, I can't stand it in others when I'm the recipient of the misfortune. The world isn't supposed to work that way. The reason I brought it up was this morning, when I came around the corner of the block, I saw a train pull up and I thought, "Wow, kismet--right as I get to the terminal, the train arrives... I'll be it's going to be a great day. Later on, I'll have to buy a lottery ticket because I'm sure to win!" As I hurried up--jogging right in front of the train driver--to get to the door, they CLOSED right in front of me! I pushed the button to open the door, to no avail. The train pulled away, leaving me dejectedly following it with my weepy eyes. I swear I could hear that depressing Charlie Brown music in the background...you know, the one where he stumbles along looking at his feet with his hands in pockets feeling the crushing weight of a cruel, cruel world on his shoulders--THAT'S how I felt! And to think of that train driver surely enjoying watching my face change from "happy-go-lucky" mode to "I'm-the-last-picked-for-dodgeball" mode in a fraction of a second. I know that if I'd have seen that change on someone's face, I'd be laughing my butt off. Ah cruel fates, coming back to bite me!

I remember when I was in the Missionary Training Center and the missionaries in my group were talking about appropriate humor and I bragged confessed that I often made fun of the misfortune of others. Later in the day, I was talking with a church leader, and after his tough love technique wherein he'd made me feel like I wasn't worthy to clean the toilets in the temple, I told him that I thought I might be too jovial and laughed too much. His response was, "Levity is fine, as long as you don't make fun of the misfortune of others." Akk! He'd even used the same phrase that I had talking amongst the missionaries. Now, fifteen years later...in fact as I wrote that last sentence...I realize that one of the more boring righteous missionaries ratted me out. Plus, they obviously didn't know me too well, because there were MUCH worse things they could have told the bishop about me! If he would have found the secret compartment in my scriptures where I kept a flask of Diet Pepsi, I'd have been screwed.