“The anxious yearning for approval in his eyes reminded Mitchell of a cat who’d just dumped a headless squirrel at its master’s feet. Mitchell didn’t know whether to offer Carr a warm bowl of cream or to swat him silly with a broom.” (page 126)

In lieu of a decapitated rodent, I offer you my warm welcome to Day Nine of the -Cock Fight- Dailies. Hello.

Approval. We all want it. Whether it’s from our parents, our peers, our friends or our readers, we all strive for that pat on the head that says “Well done, lass.” (Um, doesn’t everyone’s approving voice in their head sound like an old Scottish grandfather in a kilt with a set of bagpipes on his shoulders… or is it just me?)

Moving on…

Approval is a hard thing to come by. It’s rare. It’s usually precious. And you’d pay a fortune for it on the black market if you ever came across a worthy scrap of it for sale.

But what is it worth really?

A town’s approval of you rarely means nothing unless you’re running for political office or your staring down a lynch mob split fifty-fifty over whether to hang you or not (and in that instance I suggest not standing around waiting for the vote, either.)

A parent’s approval you’ve most likely already got, even if it does take you half a lifetime to realize it.

The approval of friends is often as fickle as the spring wind. Right when you’ve gotten it all figured out which way it’s coming from for you to catch it, it turns on its head and scampers away right out of your reach. You’re not only left empty-handed, you’re left out of breath and usually feeling like a fool. (If you’ve gotten the feeling that we’ve drifted into bitter waters, you just might be right. Let’s say we all move to higher ground, shall we?)

Approval is something we’ve got to earn from ourselves before we can rightfully expect it from anybody else, or so says the wise man.

Me? I’ll offer you a fair trade. I’ll give you mine, if you all give me yours.

And see? Not a squirrel lost his head in the deal.

Until tomorrow…

Chloe Stowe

 


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