L'homme est trop sérieux

Yesterday my mother told me I was too serious. My MOTHER. Of course, I protested, but as I did so, I found myself slowly changing my mind from annoyance at such a ludicrous statement to a gentle, vexed agreement. This change of emotion kind of proves her point, I guess.
When did this happen? Why? I would love to think of myself as a cool, fun loving guy, but apparently I'm not. While others can laugh heartily at 'Hot Shots, Part Deux' despite the crass and glib slapstick therein, I find myself groaning audibly and wishing I was elsewhere. Of course, it is a terrible film, so I maintain the right to groan, but you catch my drift. I am now quite scared that I lack the ability to have fun, or even be a bit silly. This fear will obviously do nothing to help me have fun or be silly.
I've just been telling a friend of some of the events that happened while I was a student at Kingston, such as storming around the town centre with my trousers on my head (at night, I should add) singing 'Insane in the brain', trying to mimic the 'Hill, but ending up sounding rather like a constipated person and a cat. This wasn't the first time my trousers have ended up on my head on a night out, either. Of course, I was drunk, and I'm not advocating getting drunk. I think it's pretty nasty, not to mention thoroughly ungodly and you wake up wondering why somebody had crushed your head in a vice. But just where did the fun go?
Perhaps it is just my disposition, but I'm beginning to envy those who can shrug off misfortune and smile. Maybe I've always been impressed by sad figures. Albert Camus, Jackson Pollock, Elliott Smith, Richey Edwards, Nick Drake.... they all had something I liked. That 'outsider' thing. They have issues and problems and they're not quite cool enough not to care. Instead it eats them up and that kind of made them even cooler. Genuises (sp?) killed by society. Does that sound perverse? When I was younger, I definietly wanted to be like that, but without actually being a nutcase. I found them strangely enigmatic and maybe if you dig deeper (and I haven't properly analysed this, so I may be wrong!!) you may find that I figured that being sad and enigmatic attracted women. Of course, this didn't quite work out for me. I'm quite pleased at this now, because aside from it being a wickedly crass and cynical way to get a girlfriend, I would have had to keep up an effort to be enigmatic, which would have been hard. Largely because I am not enigmatic. I talk far too much for that.
Not that it was all a pretence. This was all before I became a Christian and I wanted to find out who I was. I don't think I ever did though, because I'm pretty sure I stumbled around the place looking gloomy without exactly knowing why. In my first year at university, I discovered to be enigmatic and a bit of a sad genius meant being locked up in your room for days, drinking bottles of vodka for breakfast, appearing at uni every few weeks to hand in your latest piece of prize deserving composition. I didn't like the sound of that, since I was pretty sure I'd get very lonely very quickly , I didn't want to work that hard and although I could take my booze, the idea of spending days with my head down the toilet or having to spend time in hospital due to alcohol poisoning didn't sound very 'cool' to me.
I couldn't really infiltrate the 'fucking angry at the world' clique, because I wasn't that angry, so I wound up just conceding to myself that I would have to just be 'me'. Only problem being that I didn't know who 'me' was, so maybe inevitably, I wound up trying to appear cool, and failing, so just being a bit sad instead. With a little time off to put my trousers on my head. Naturally, this combination also failed to attract the women, exept a girlfriend I had for ten days, called 'T'. It took me five days to get her real name out of her, (Victoria, for all those interested) and a further five days for her to realise that being drunk and using trousers as headwear wasn't that attractive, so she dumped me. Which made me a little more sad. Still, all's fair in love and war, and I guess I only got what was fair.
I guess since then, that this predisposition to be a bit sad and serious must have stuck, which isn't ideal. I don't have much reason to be like that, so maybe I should try to shake off this predisposition and smile a bit more. I'm sure it would do me some good. Maybe I'll feel better and work better. And maybe then girls would like me.... (I'm joking, for all those now worried at that last sentence!!)