You know what I hate? Well, lots of things actually. Cows that kick, soggy pathetic snow, getting up way to early, the list could stretch on for a very long time.
Apparently I'm a pessimist. And probably true. Because I don't expect good things to happen. I'm too old, not talented enough, the odds are against me, not a possibility, not old enough, not smart enough, yeah right. You catch my drift. My Dad has a story he likes to tell about me. How I once changed the battery in my watch and exclaimed in surprise, "Hey, it's ticking!". To my defense, the battery was leaking acid and had to be cleaned with an eraser. However, my Dad still seems to find it very good proof of my miserable outlook on life.
But aren't pessimists supposed to be crabby depressed people? Excuse me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I am. I figure I can't be a real true pessimist. And I think this is why, I see the good side of where I am right now. Of exactly what my life is. Of the small town thing, the manual labour thing, the I-have-the-whole-wide-world-and-most-of-my-life-to-go thing.
So you know what I love? A lot of things, actually. Amusing things that make me laugh, falling asleep, fluffy white snow, perfect throws in judo, brothers that like to wrestle. The question really is, do I hate more things then I love? And what do I abide on more? Do I let the things I hate really bug me, or do I revel in the things I love? When I lay awake at night and think, is it all about the nastiness of life? Or how lucky I am to have it?
And that, my friends, is why I insist that I am not a real pessimist.