I often find myself in the minority. No, not because I'm a lesbian - although that seems to be a problem for some. But, because I have this unnatural (I assume it's unnatural) desire to look on the proverbial bright side.
No matter what's going on, whether the cat puked on my bed, the paper girl lobs my news in a puddle, my employer, Enron, implodes or I land myself in jail (no...I wasn't a lying sack o' shit, cheating, stealing, no good "going straight to Dante's Eighth Circle of Hell" executive at Enron. I was a genuine, hard working, loyal employee who knew nothing about all the deceit), things have GOT to get better.
But sometimes they don't. At least not for a while. Sometimes things get worse...and worse. Yet I still find myself saying, "Self, you can't stay in this dark place forever. No one can. Well, some can, but its not a productive or healthy place to be. Find your testicular fortitude, stand up and start walking again."
And so I do. But then I trip on the dog and spill my coffee and have to think I might have just been bitten by a mosquito carrying the West Nile virus.
Many years of ceaseless struggle later (I'm 42) and I'm still expecting that things are bound to get better. Won't they?
Eternally optimistic...or partially retarded?
Hmm...
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