Or, as Mr. Orbison and/or k.d. lang might sing, "Cry-yi-yi-yi-y-ing..."
I'm prone to it. Particularly now that I'm off that numbifying antidepressant Paxil. I'll cry over most anything. Sad stories on NPR. Happy stories on NPR. Cheesy, heartstring-plucking commercials. TV shows. You name it, I'll cry over it.
I also cry when I get frustrated or angry. Which always made me a lousy fighter, since I just dissolve into tears. Now, part of that has to do with the fact that I never learned to process anger in any sort of effective way; I went straight from blowing my top through 7th grade to stuffing my anger in the name of social acceptance.
I'm sure part of it is genetic (I remember particularly Mom crying over a television program on Eleanor Roosevelt and getting cranky with me for snickering). So, there it is: I cry. I cry at really really inopportune moments. Like meeting with dissertation committee members. Or playing a board game and getting frustrated because I can't seem to remember the rules.
So, sore loser *and* cryer. Whoo-boy.