Half full...or at least, 50-50.

Optimism. I'm warming to it. I've really done pessimism with a lot of gusto. I really just gave into it when I quit religion.

Here's how that turned out: pessimism=worry= exhaustion + cowardice =depression and disengagement =not fun or happy.

I'm hoping the other equation goes something like this: Optimism= excitement = energy and bravery = freedom = fun & happy.

I'm also realizing that pessimism and depression aren't romantic or noble. They're just dysfunctional. (I'm working on a song. it goes, "I guess I missed the boat on that. Depression's no aphrodisiac, and my crying don't get em hot after all).

As a general rule, I think depression isn't exactly a selling point for a potential mate.

This change is going to require me to discipline my thought patterns to counteract negative thoughts with positive ones. This is especially true when the negative thoughts are unreasonably pessimistic. If an outcome might be bad, but might just as well be good, I should AT LEAST suspend expectations, and maybe even train myself to expect the good. Where is the nobility in expecting the worst, or in spending time worrying about it?

Maybe it's a survival mechanism gone awry. Planning for possible problems makes sense. But, when it leaves you paralyzed with anxiety and fear and depression, that mechanism of worry is acting contrary to its purpose.

Let's toast to optimism, and drink from our half-full glasses.

Like a three month bad date

I quit my job this week...submitted my two weeks.

My job there was a long, drawn out, despair-inducing experience. made me feel the same kind of misery that I felt when I used to have to go to football practice. It wasn't really the work...it was being under somebody's thumb. I felt unsafe there, which made me less productive and less enthused about tackling big projects, lest I screw up, or give the appearance of screwing up, and incur wrath.

I think I have a way to pay my bills through the fall. After that, I don't. I mean, I do theoretically, in that I will hopefully find a good paying job that I like (remember, my less-ambitious new personal goal?), but I don't have anything lined up yet..

Maybe I'll start charging people to jiggle my belly. it's fun for me...why shouldn't others enjoy it too?

life update

I've decided to start looking for other work, as my job right now isn't exactly ideal for me. I'm getting a little more used to it, but I'd still rather do something that involves writing and research.

I had an interview yesterday that didn't go particularly well. The more I heard about the job, the more secretarial it seemed, although they called it "chief of staff." Maybe I'd be fine with it. Maybe I'm perfectly capable of being organized and efficient. I don't feel that way, though. Anyway, I think they could sense my hesitancy, and when they asked if I was still interested in the job after hearing about it, I said, "I'm not sure."

Oh well. Onward and upward.

In other news, I just moved. which really, really sucks. I mean, the moving sucks, but I had a lot of help (thank god). the worst part is cleaning the old place. I didn't think we had much chance of getting our deposit back, so I didn't go all out, but simply getting everything out of there was a big ordeal. Then, one good once-over with the mop and sweeper. Hopefully, they won't charge us anything EXTRA.

This post is very boring so far.

I've been writing something. It's a memoir of the last three years of my life, and though not particularly exciting by action movie standards, it was definitely the most tumultuous time in my life. Topics include: finding a career path, love and heartbreak, weird coincidences, religion, death, friends, politics, bugs, and the developmentally disabled.

If I want to make it long enough for a book, I might have to take some artistic license. We'll see.

funny drunken rambling

I got way, way too drunk last night, which I'm really getting too old to do. I'll save that line of thought for another day, but the point is that when I got home, I wrote a little rant on one of the dating sites I use. Heh...the extremity of the self-confident, self-assured, and self-reliant sentiments owes only to the liquid courage that was flowing through my veins, greatly exagerating the reality of my native sentiments. I thought it was amusing enough to post again, though. It follows:

"You know, this is fucking ridiculous, this whole dating bullshit. The fact is that I like myself, and I'm pretty content to while away my few years on this piece of rock playing music, reading, writing, and doing whatever goddamn thing suits my fancy at the time. I've had some trouble finding a good match, and you what, I don't give a flying fuck.

I'm 26 years old...old enough to know that my youth is ephemeral at best...old enough to have accepted my own right to exist as a human being and as an american. I offer no apologies and equivocations for my existence, particularly not to the female sex. I'm a sensitive, kind, funny, educated, smart guy, who can play a pretty passible old-time banjo now and then, and if you don't want to be with me, y'all can go fuck yourselves rotten. I've chosen who I am, and I wouldn't for a second want to be anyone else.

To all the poor sad saps out there, male and female, who are yearning for some basic companionship, I say this: be happy to have the bed to yourself; remember that if you pay your own way, you have an inalienable right to do whatever you fucking well please; and never apologize for your singleness...because as nice as some good lovin can be, the awesome presence of existence does not depend for its glory upon your having a lover. Oh, and remember that masturbation works consistently and without complaint.