...and don't panic! The Know brings you advice during housing
A true friend is always there for you, especially when you're drunk.
Miss Quit regresses to her childhood this week as the prospect of beginning the "University of Life" looms.
My name is Miss Quit, and I am an optimist. Sometimes, however, it seems like I am the only one.
During a recent spell of sheer procrastination, I put off essay planning by indulging in one of my favourite pastimes: dancing around the living room. Flicking through the many MTVs, VH1s, and a mix of obscure (and downright cheesy) music channels, I happened upon REM’s Shiny Happy People. Immediately I began to leap around the room, limbs flying every which way, cushions doing likewise as I flung myself from sofa to sofa. Not the coolest of dancers perhaps, but when I dance, I dance.
So there I was in full swing, my roommates benevolently navigating around me, far too used to my ways to be anything other than indifferent. Then, as the second verse crescendoed into the chorus, I span around, slipped, and landed on one of the afore-mentioned unfortunates, who had been trying (in vain) to read on the couch.
In return for being my crash mat, she proceeded to enlighten me about the true nature of Micheal Stipe-and-co’s catchy tune. Within a couple of minutes, my naïve illusion was shattered. Alas, this was no happy melody I had been grooving away to, but an archly critical comment on the state of our prozac-popping, money-worshipping, hypocrisy-ridden society.
And all I had wanted was a boogie. Somewhat disheartened, I slumped down next to my sceptical friend and began to ponder the state of my own shiny happy persona.
Seeing the glass as half-full is how we are told to view the water of life. Or at least, that is how I was raised. Believe the best of people, look for the silver lining, soldier on in the face of adversity no matter what. Yet, if one continually holds onto the highest of expectations of life, are they not just setting themselves up for disappointment? Yes, says the pessimist.
Optimists just aren’t cool. They are easy fodder for ridicule, what with their abundant cheerfulness, gullibility and hope. Prime example? Ned Flanders. I don’t think I’m quite on the same level as Homer’s nemesis, but you get the point.
Prime example? Ned Flanders. I don’t think I’m quite on the same level as Homer’s nemesis, but you get the point.
Indeed, I am a bit of a fatal optimist. A big downfall of mine is pinning my every last hope, each fragment of happiness, on everything I do. Some have called this passion; others naivety. I am sure there are some who would classify it as stupid, and they would not be wrong.
Living and dying by every small decision or occurrence is not the way of the cynic. Expecting the worst, anticipating disappointment and failure, not buying into the words of others; these are the hallmarks of the pessimist mindset. Yet why should the negative outlook be any less naïve than its sunny counterpart?
A cactus uses spikes to protect itself, just like the pessimist. Indeed, an element of self-protection seems more than evident here. Wryness, sarcasm, negativity: all work as armour, anaesthesia and resistance to protect from the burns of life, and to keep from the vulnerability of being open enough to truly feel anything.
Optimists might not be cool, but they are brave, for they are willing to truly live despite the pessimist dogma which proclaims that "the individual life is a ceaseless struggle for existence itself, at every step threatened with destruction".
It is not unusual to find me skipping down the street. Habitually I fall over, and almost always in front of many people. This does not stop me from picking myself up, dusting myself down, and continuing to make a fool of myself. That is optimism – knowing that life is one big fall, but dancing on anyway.
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