I have not complained about anything once in the last two days. This was at the request of my beloved —who was (I think) joking. But it’s true and I admit it willingly — I can be a complainer.
Despite being a kind and warm-hearted person, I almost always have something bugging me.
It’s too hot! The shower has some impossible to remove stain. My ears are ringing again. Why don’t we have any cheese? Why don’t the neighbours cut their damn weedy lawn? Is that kid down the street still learning to play the saxophone!? I don’t have enough drawer space.
I was born in Toronto, the city where I have always lived. And I didn’t learn to speak English until I started school. That’s pretty typical for a child of immigrants — Slavic-language speaking immigrants specifically. I think that may hold the key to understanding what’s wrong with me.
I even found a whole academic conference about the temperaments of my people: Culture of Complaints in Russia and Eastern Europe. One of the papers presented:
There are also loads of academic papers like this one on related topics : The Negative Social World: The Polish Culture of Complaining.
And a dating site offering advice for engaging with my kind: Eastern European Personality Traits: The Secrets You Need to Know! (Warning: That site is totally bizarre and clickbaity, but I’ll take the “fiery passion of the Balkans” along with the fact that I am indeed sometimes “stubborn or inflexible, resistant to change and hesitant to try new approaches.”)