"Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?"

Optimism haunts me. So do the people who thrive on it.

Frankly, my glass is not half full. It is always at least half empty and often it’s emptier than that. And you know what? I don’t feel bad about that in the least! Humans are not programmed for optimism and those who attempt it come across as fake and annoying, and leave me with the false sense that I too must put on my happy face and ignore reality.

You know the type I’m talking about. It’s the old lady from the church down the road (which you never attend) who shows up on your doorstep when you’re sick or someone has died, and shoves a casserole at you, as though her random act of kindness will somehow advance her a step in the higher order of things. It’s a nice sentiment, but the reality is that you probably didn’t feel like company, her casserole gave you diarrhea, and in the end you have to clean her serving dish and then hunt her down to give it back. Of course you won’t actually expend the effort to give it back, and now you’re cursed with it. You can never use it because someone might see it and know you’re a thief. After a while, the dish has been in your possession so long that you could never return it because it would simply bring to light the obvious: you stole it! So, the damn thing just it sits in your cabinet mocking you each time you open the cupboard and reminding you that you are indeed going to hell. Gladys should have kept her casserole at home!!

I don’t mean for it to sound like I’m a life-hating naysayer who thrives on opportunities to destroy hope. Quite the contrary. But no one can be happy all the time, and sometimes it feels good to feel bad. When something bad happens (especially if it’s my fault) I don’t want to be happy. I want to go home alone and feel sorry for myself, listen to music that will make me even sadder, and create in my mind the absolute worst-case scenario. A few hours later when I surface (or sober up) I’m over it. I’ve chewed on the “badness” for as long as I needed to and swallowed… Case closed… On to the next screw-up! It’s an important pattern in human behavior that gets unnaturally altered when we try to see the world through rose-colored glasses.

And there’s a deeper issue here that I think needs to be dug into here. The fact is that it’s very much within everyone’s nature to be mean and nasty. We don’t intend to be, but we can’t help ourselves. It’s that nasty streak which makes us do things like stick our gum under the table, or pass gas in crowded areas where someone else is sure to be blamed. And then of course there’s schadenfreude – the act of taking pleasure in other peoples’ misery. We watch NASCAR to see the wrecks, and we laugh at home videos where someone takes a nose dive into concrete. Think about figure skating for a moment. When the boy-in-tights with granite-like abs comes out of a triple-axel, you know the entire world (except maybe his mother) secretly wants him to fall flat on his ass. With all that negative energy flowing about, it’s a wonder the skaters can even stand upright.

Optimists invented terms like “you’re half-right,” “those were planned losses,” or “she’s just big-boned.” There’s something to be said for telling it like it is: You’re as wrong as you can be; you lost a bundle of money thanks to your own stupidity; and she’s never met a Twinkie she didn’t like.

Bad things happen to good people, just like good things happen to bad people (which is even more annoying). You can’t appreciate a good day unless you’ve had a few that were down-right shitty. In some karmic way it all balances out in the end and a little regret to carry through life never hurt anyone.

Somewhere along the line we’ve been programmed to believe that regret is inherently bad, but I disagree. Holding onto it a little of it helps clear the path toward the future. There are many things in life I regret: I wish George W. Bush had never been president. I wish my grandmother could have seen me grow up. I wish my parents hadn’t divorced. I wish I would never have said hello to the dark haired boy with adorable brown eyes who would eventually lie to me and drain my bank accounts. But all of these things did happen, and living with a wall up against the hurt they might have inflicted doesn’t undo it. I’m a realist, and sometimes reality sucks.

I find no peace in letting go, but I don’t let holding on slow me down. I can deal with the bad while appreciating the good, and when the smoke clears, I’ll see the humor, wisdom, and humanity in both.