Full disclosure, this is the second time I’m writing this post since the original did not save. Damn you, technology. I will try to capture my initial essence, but as with anything done twice, it will always change. Also, because of the frustration I just endured for the last ten minutes after realizing all that work is gone, this blog post will most certainly be shorter.

So here’s the story.

I went to the fair with a friend the other day. One of the exhibitions was fruit and vegetable judging. It was actually adorable. I’d never seen a table covered with tiny plates of raspberries, carrots, apples in rows with ribbons and cards claiming ownage and winnage.

My girlfriend saw the beet first. She laughed and said look at that face!

It made me happy to know I’m not the only one that sees faces in many inanimate objects.

I took the picture and added, “what a smile he has!”

My friend said, “smile? He looks like he’s screaming.”

I glanced at my friend. Who is beautifully tattooed, pink-haired and has a sunny personality. We’d spend the last few hours walking around the fair, watching tractor pulls, eating french fries and getting Henna. All the while, she had been handing out compliments to strangers as if it was her mission for the day.

I mentioned at one point that the number of compliments she handed out was lovely, but I had wished she would compliment herself just as much. Since she said sorry almost nearly as much as she breathed.

I told her about the thing I read at some point in my life: “if you say sorry all the time, you’re subconsciously telling yourself you’ve done something wrong, which inadvertently hurts your self-worth.” You should then only say sorry if you actually do something wrong, so you’re not telling your psyche you’re a screw-up if you step into someone’s path or bump shoulders. This is the normal Canadian response when this happens, but not necessary, and sometimes a funny comment is smoother.

I digress.

The beet. Cut in half but sitting close enough together to form a muppet-type mouth.

“No, he’s smiling. I said.

She said, “nope, he’s definitely screaming”

“Really?” I said. I re-examined the beet face, and maybe it’s one of those pictures with three looks in one, but I only see the happy wide grinning face.

It’s like the Canadians from South Park. A beet man, but I still see that he’s smiling, from root to root.

I’m surprised by our different views. The perception is entirely opposite. Our purpose is the same. We both love horror movies, tattoos, cotton candy and flowers. We have the same opinions on men, money, trees, and drama.

So why is our perception so different? Everyone wants to have a positive outlook on life. Why does it seem that someone who sees a screaming beet face must be negative, when really she is a very positive person.

Is it our perception, or is it actually purpose? Maybe the initial pulse in our brain that says- he’s screaming in pain- is positive because otherwise, he could be fake smiling.

The perception is different. One sees a smile, one sees a scream.

But the purpose is the same. To see someone’s emotion.

Perpetually positive, even if the truth is negative,

Norma Rrae