2002-10-30|6:19 p.m.
I warn you, this is an entry (or should I say, yet another) where I talk about myself. And, because of that it is totally egotistical. Because, well, if you talk about yourself that is what it ends up being�egotistical, especially in my case. And although, it�d be terrific to have a M-is-wonderful-a-thon, I am really just trying to examine the development of my optimism or just ramble about while I collect thoughts.
I tend to be a little bit of an idealist, making me (or making me seem) naive.
And recently, someone asked me to explain why I was always so optimistic, when they felt themselves a �misanthrope.� I tried poorly to explain it and over the past couple weeks I have been examining why.
Maybe it is in my past:
When I was younger, I was extremely hopeful. It may be because of how I was brought about as a person. My parents provided whatever they could for me, and before their divorce that was quite a lot, and although they sometimes had limited ways of expressing it, loved me with all their hearts. And despite the fact that I was quite lonely as a child, without friends to play with, I lived amongst the flowers and plants of my dad�s greenhouse where my imagination took me to magical existences. I basically lived a protected, yet lovely, childhood.
Then, my parents lost all their money to their divorce and my dad, my brother, and I moved to live with my grandparents. By middle class standards, my grandparents lived on a hill in a big house in a wealthy neighborhood. It was the high-end five-figure neighborhood. After moving there, I had all the access to all the friends I could ever want, but unfortunately, I didn�t want a lot of them. The fact that I was living an Uncle Sam subsidized existence, didn�t sit well in a lot of their minds. And although, I could share their �gifted and talented� classes with my good scores, I was never quite one of them. This continued on well into high school even after we moved out of my grandparents and into a mobile home my grandpa bought us in the Mojave Desert. I grew a bitter fa�ade.
But, I managed to make more friends and understand the world a little better. Like most teenagers, my life went from my backyard to the news in Kosovo. My self identity was doing flip flops. I wanted very much to be protected from the intolerance I felt as a poor kid. Most of the time, I tried spouting off how horrible people were or how bleak the future is. I became bitter, or so I thought.
But, at the same time, I tried to get my peers to understand what I had learned in my experience and what came from it. Debates on welfare ignited me. I tried patiently to explain the major misconceptions. And oftentimes, I just tried to convince people to just personalize the subjects they were talking about. Most of my peers were either apathetic or programmed by fear. So, I enthusiastically wanted to set things right with people. And really this is sort of arrogant. First, assuming that I am even right about these things and, second, assuming that I could even change anything besides my hair color, I made some pretty lofty ideals for myself.
And I am not even really sure why I bothered. I think even at the time, I knew deep down inside that no one was going to have a life changing experience from my comments. But, I wanted to at least defend what I thought was right. And I wasn�t about to listen to some girl say that people on welfare were just lazy and needed to get jobs. I simply knew that she was wrong.
So, one day out of the blue, S turns to me and says something I will never forget:
�Jessi and I were talking about it. We know that you are not the pessimistic you try to play up. You�re hiding an optimist in there.�
I didn�t know how to respond. Who was I?
And slowly over the years, I have realized those two genius girls, Sati and Jessi, really knew me better than, well, me.
And I embraced the idea that I loved people.
But, I am totally leaving out the little and honest details. I do yell at inconsiderate drivers while driving, make fun of ALEX and others like him, and sit around lazily feeling sorry for myself. And for the sake of not wanting to bore you even more, let it be said that I shortened that list considerably. I just want to set the record straight that I am no saint, by any means. I don�t go around trying to save the world.
I just love it.
And I don�t think that people who are pessimistic are not good people either. That misanthrope, mentioned above, is pretty terrific. And my own Abe, who is also pretty much a cynic, is absolutely lovely in my book.
But, I haven�t addressed one part the misanthrope wanted me to elaborate on, �Are you an optimist out of guilt?�
And I thought about it. Maybe I am. I think it is probably part of the reason that I do the things that I do. I can easily say that it is my reasoning for being a vegetarian.
But maybe it isn�t that simple. Saying that a negative feeling caused me to do a positive thing such as sparing the life of an animal is sort of simple. It is explaining that my compassion for it created the guilt of eating it is much harder. Explaining what you are compassionate for is pretty complex.
I think maybe it has a lot to do with our sphere of being able to identify with things beyond ourselves. That takes on a lot of assumptions. Does this thing feel things? Does this thing feel things the way I do? We have to answer the hypothetical by applying our own answers to them. This requires identifying with them, which can be completely erroneous.
So, really I am just getting tired of talking about it. I am just this way.
I can�t avoid the general optimism I have. It is there and travels like my shadow. And I am finally beginning to accept it.
And that picture on my profile is a pretty accurate caricature of what I�d be if I lived in South Park. If you want to see what a cynic looks like, here is Abe�s site. Plus, he just has some pretty neat art stuff on here.
As angrybuddha would end it, �Goodnight world, love you.�