"The Way I See Things"

Dead giveaways…

I watch Congressional hearings on C-SPAN and try to guess which party the current speaker belongs to, exclusively by their haircuts.

I am almost always correct. “Hair that won’t move.”  “Hair covering the ears.”  “A telltale beard.”  The signs are clear to anyone who can read them.  An Indian scout studying a war arrow, going, “Comanche!”

All the evidence is before you.  You just have to take notice.

Similarly – although less visibly provable – almost anything I read betrays in its presentation – down to the specific word choices – a primary – and to me, most explanatorily significant – characteristic about the writer:

Are they an optimist, or are they a pessimist?  

(Note: Pessimists, at least in this country, find it more difficult to get published.  Compare two titles:  “The End of the World” and “The End of the World… And How We Can Avoid it.”)

I am a pessimist. (Which you probably already know. By personal intuition, or because I have mentioned it on numerous occasions.)

My innate negativity seeps to the cellular level.  I believe it’s genetic.  I am sure I came into this world, anxiously shaking my newborn head.

“This is not going to be pleasant.”

Consider this revelatory example:

An “Innate Pessimist” going to breakfast.

Shoop’s is a nearby deli/diner, serving great coffee and magnificent blueberry pancakes.  I step in one Sunday morning for breakfast, “weekend early” – about seven-thirty in the morning.  Looking around, I see an astonishing tableau.

The entire diner – not large, eight or so tables – is filled with Santa Monica police officers.  It’s a veritable “Cops’ Convention.”  There are literally no other customers.  The place is wall-to-wall “eggs, any style”, and loaded firearms.

An Optimist’s Reaction: 

“This is the safest restaurant in the entire city.”

A Congenital Pessimist’s Reaction:
  

“Early this morning, a crazed gunman with a vendetta towards law enforcement burst into a Santa Monica diner…”  

Lower down in the report:

“Also slain, a retired comedy writer, eating blueberry pancakes.”  

I cannot help it; that is exactly the way I think.  Where others see idyllic safety, I see unscheduled mayhem, with me, an accidental includee, signaling the waiter who had forgotten the syrup.

A more recent example, occurring at this very desk… (although, this time, nobody was injured.)

I complete the opening draft of a blog post.  I print it up.  I make handwritten changes on the pages.  I turn to the computer to type the revisions into my first draft.  

I check the screen…

The first draft has entirely disappeared.

The screen is astonishingly empty, save for the empty whiteness signaling “You’re first draft is gone.”

I nervously scroll up.

No first draft.

I press the “Reverse” arrow that brings deleted material back up.

No dice.

I “Exit” the program. Count ten.  And then enter back in.

The draft remains nowhere to be seen.

I check my program file’s “Recent” list.

The post’s designating title is not included.

I do not know what happened. 

But I do know it’s trouble.

What do I do then?

I curse.  I sigh.  I laugh sardonically.  I cry.  (The last two added for rhyming purposes only.)  

And then, using the available printeddraft, I type the whole thing over again.  Which takes about forty-five minutes.

When I am done typing, I do this one last thing.  I scroll down to the bottom of the post, and I delete any accidentally included spaces that would make the printer crank out a subsequent page with no words on it, which frequently happens when the previous page types down to the bottom.  

And when I execute that final maneuver…

I find the original draft of my blog post.

In its entirety.

That’s the “Pessimist’s Brain” in action.  Believing you’ve exhausted all the ameliorating possibilities, you surrender to the “inevitable” and start again, the controlling truth – that kept “Scrolling Down” entirely absent from your consciousness – being the subliminal belief – from the beginning– that all was lost.

The optimist may believe all will ultimately be well.  The pessimist’s “Default Position”:  It most definitely won’t be.  (And that optimists are idiots.)  (Who seem to get more accomplished than they do.)

On some occasions – like the foregoing – guaranteeing that outcome.

Wait.  You know what, darnit!  (I say “Darnit!” when I am serious about something.)

It’s okay – and cautionarily helpful – to be aware of your natural proclivities.   But you do not have to give into them.  

“No!” says I. “No!”  And “No!” again!

I am determined to end this on an “up.”  

Let’s see now.

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Um…

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Hold on.

This might take a minute….