Irrational Optimism

I woke up a bit before 6 PM. I couldn't remember if I was supposed to be pissed off, or depressed.

I'm almost out of food, and am just recovering from a plasma draining the day before.

A lot of people would have killed themselves already if they were me, but I have this character flaw, I guess, which manifests itself as irrational optimism.
It was dark outside.

I was mad at the time on the clock; but, how could I be when I hadn't gone to sleep until noon?

I am so sick of having to "keep my chin up," and "look on the bright side,"and force myself into a good mood, time and time again.

The patrons of the Uxi Duxi were all talking about their Thanksgiving plans.

I hadn't gotten there until 7 PM, with only an hour to blog about how pissed off I was.
This laptop sat in front of me for at least 10 minutes with "Updates are 30% complete; don't shut off your computer," and a little spinning logo.

After that amount of time, I defied them by shutting the thing off. It came back on to the same "30%" screen and sat there like that for another couple minutes.

I turned it off again, removed and replaced the battery, and then it came back on and swiftly cycled through various percentages until it was 100% "updated," and I had learned something, but had wasted a good 20 minutes. This is a recurrent theme with me.

It seems like I am learning and learning and will have it all figured out at the time that I die of natural causes -a wise man, who could do something amazing if he could go back and start his life again...


The Uxi Duxi patrons were all inviting each other over for the holiday, should any of them be faced with spending it alone.

Nobody ever asked: "How about you, Daniel, are you going to be alright on Thanksgiving?" to which I could have reassured them that I had been invited by one of my only friends in Louisiana, Howard, to join him; and that Lilly still has a few days left to invite me, should she see me playing on her stoop over the next week.

It's just that, not only did they not think of me in that regard, it didn't seem to occur to them that it might be rude to do so right in front of me, as I sat in my usual spot by the window.  "I just don't want to see anyone have to spend the holiday alone (like he probably has to do)."

"I'm trying to figure out how I can post a picture of myself blowing my brains to Facebook; It's not an easy problem to solve; I would have to leave a note asking whomever finds my body to please go to the folder where the video will be and upload it to my home page; I would have to leave them my password...etc., and I really don't think I can rely upon anyone to do it. I can't tell them in advance, or they're going to try to talk me out of it..." was what I felt like saying to anyone who might have asked, so maybe it's good that they never even thought about me.

Lilly and the girls would be at my "funeral," and I think, Howard Westra would make it. Tim, my caseworker probably would, also. And, who knows how many buskers from the Quarter might drop a guitar pick in the urn with my ashes.

The problem is, the irrational optimism.

I'm the guy who will watch a football game right down to the end, even if my team is trailing by 21 points with under 2 minutes left. They could recover 3 onside kicks, throw 3 "hail Mary" bombs to the end zone, and still tie the game up in less than 2 minutes, and, who knows, they might draw a penalty flag, which would allow them one more play before time expired, and they might kick a 65 yard field goal to win it...

And, I would have missed the most fantastic finish in the history of the game, if I had given up like most other people and had switched over to another channel.

So, that, in a nutshell, is why I'm not a suicidal person.

When it was 4 AM, I thought about trying to go to sleep, so I could be up at the Uxi Duxi when they opened at noon, and perhaps would have the whole afternoon to get caught up on this blog.

Harold the cat disappoints me. When Sherman was over, Harold had jumped up on the couch and cuddled with him after he finished eating, just like Sherman was me, or as if Harold doesn't care who the hell it is, as log as he pets him and scratches his head.
I'm not totally happy with Harold as a pet; but I kind of knew this, already, about cats.

This is the same bullshit that I am facing day after day. It's 9:30 PM. If I want to go out and busk, I should fold up this laptop and get moving right now; but, what if I think I could sit here for a few hours and produce an interesting post, which would be worth more to me than the 6 dollars I might make busking? Or go back to the apartment and spend 5 hours working on a drawing that might come out beautifully?

This is just human nature; looking for an excuse to avoid the responsibility of having to go out and make some kind of living.

But, of course, if I didn't smoke cigarettes or weed, do kratom shots or drink coffee, then I wouldn't be so "pressed" to make money...same old bullshit.

If I stay in to work on something that turns out to be a piece of crap, then I'll wake up in the morning with a piece of crap and barely enough money to take a bus over to sell my plasma for 25 dollars.

And the funny thing is, I have the ability to flip a switch and be in an awesome mood, just by re-framing the situation.

If I go to the Lilly Pad and make just 10 bucks, I can feed Harold the cat, and still be on the plasma bus the following day.

And then, there is the matter of, what if I spent the same 3 to 5 hours busking, rather than selling plasma? Instead of hopping on the 115 for Gretna, I could plop myself down, right there by the bus stop and play until such a time that I would be returning on the same bus 3 to 5 hours later; and, wouldn't I have at least the 25 dollars in my basket, and wouldn't feel weak and old and pessimistic?
And hungry enough to eat a few more of those 25 dollars worth of food?

Tony Robbins, in his great book "Unlimited Power," talks about how it is counterproductive to even dwell upon what is depressing you, even for the purposes of trying to explain it to a therapist or a friend.
When someone asks you: "What's wrong, why are you so depressed?" then they are asking you to recreate that state of mind, and put yourself in it.

The thing to do is flip the switch, and put yourself in a positive state of mind, and don't look back.

So, here I go again.

This gets tiring, but...I feel great and have a lot to contribute; I am blessed!