Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Melancholy and Sanguine

Pictures can often say more than words, so look at the photo as I hazard a description and analysis.  My father is a sanguine and I’m a melancholy.  Vastly different temperaments make for different types of individuals indeed.  He’s amiable as could be, always striking up a conversation with a friend, acquaintance, or complete stranger.  I on the other hand will be brooding in the corner with a suspicious eye and lugubrious disposition, jealously guarding my privacy.  My dad embraces his fellow man with a cheerful expression and he’s hopeful for the future.  I already see the red and black skies of the apocalypse appearing on the horizon, and I often wish the “Everlasting had not fix’d His canon ‘gainst self-slaughter.”  Laughter is the signature sound from my dad’s lips; from my pie hole you’ll discern the gnashing of teeth.  People will walk away from my father with a smile on their face, while I usually leave my interlocutors with emotional or physical pain.  Apples and oranges.