*The Pointless Writer*

has a life you're completely uninterested in. But it's okay because I can write. No abbreviations. No shoddy grammar (though I'm not immune to mistakes). Just quality writing on sometimes completely pointless topics.

Inspiration/ Hilarity

`cirque. (by Nick)
The Joel Stein
Hyperbole and a Half (by Allie Brosh)

Pointless Yakking

No chatbox.

UnPoints of Note

1. I write when fancy takes. Sometimes, fancy takes many months of leave.
2. Never give up on this blog. I will eventually come back. When fancy has returned from its unfaithful travels.
3. All posts labelled Randomosity were written while I was on my junior college's blog team.
4. Everything is written as a challenge to myself. And it's all in good fun. Cheerio!

The Insincerity of Smiling
Saturday, May 15, 2010

Smile. Frown. Smile. Look past. Smile. If you smile, does that mean you’re happy to see the person you’ve just made eye contact with? If you frown, well, no more needs to be said. And typically, you’d look past a total stranger.

I’ve always thought that smiling at a person indicated mutual friendship and genuine happiness at seeing him/her, but recently, I’ve discovered this to be a terrible untruth. The more people I know, the more smiles I give away, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m happy to see them all.

As a child, I was taught that smiles expressed joy, but this tends towards inaccuracy as we grow older. We smile artificially as a courtesy, in greeting, a forced smile. It irks me that I have to keep smiling at random people throughout the day, just because we were in the same Orientation Group, or because we’re in the same church, or because we’re classmates, or because we just happen to know each other. It isn’t that I dislike smiling at people; I just hate insincere smiles.

I don’t dislike the people I smile at, nor do I particularly like them. Since I feel neutral towards them, almost indifferent, the act of smiling is a wholly artificial one. I have to consciously paste a smile on my face in order to be polite, because that person smiled at me first, whether or not I feel happy, and whether or not we are actually friends. And I feel like a bundle of insincerity. I wouldn’t tell any of them if I felt down, nor would I share my greatest joys.

A real smile is one that you can’t wipe off your face, no matter how hard you try. It hasn’t been manufactured in the Courtesy and Etiquette Factory. It leaps onto your face the moment you see a treasured friend. In my experience, it comes coupled with excitable high-pitched girls’ greetings and some semblance of a hug, or at the very least, a grasping of the other’s hands. It’s as infectious as laughter, and the warmth exuded is unmistakable. It isn’t a necklace you can put around your neck and take off. It reaches up to your eyes, and even when you release your lips from the smile, it lingers on your face.

That’s the kind of smile I like to give; that’s the kind of smile that makes me happy when I’m down; that’s the kind of smile people should share, not that ornament people paste on their faces in greeting.

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Chanson des Étoiles at 3:32 PM