That’s right. Screw optimism.
How’s that for a catchy blog title? Sorry folks. I am done with cheery and optimistic. I am cranky and pissed off, and cold and lethargic. My creativity is in the crapper, just beneath my positive attitude.
I just read an article (In Praise of an Ordinary Life by Alain De Botton, in Flow Magazine), which informed me, in a nutshell, that…
“ …it’s nice when you can raise your expectations, but also very painful, because we can’t always get what we want.”
I think I learned this when I was around three. Up until then, I am pretty sure I got everything I wanted, since that was mostly chocolate milk and the undivided attention of all the adults in my life. At age three, my sister Cheryl was born, and that’s when it all went downhill for this chubby, only child. (Love you sisser!!!)
Still, I was three, a resilient daydreamer, and I managed.
Now I am 49. And grumpy. I wasn’t supposed to get older, fatter, poorer. I really do want it all, and I’ve been pretending it was actually possible. Until I read this article, which reminded me of what I already knew. That it’s highly unlikely that I will get anywhere near all that I want.
(She says pouting; crossing arms; stomping feet.)
So now I am stuck with figuring out what I really, really want, within the parameters of my measly life, and that is supposed to make me happy. This life shit is really hard sometimes.