Eternally Opessimistic [sic]

Optimism can be painful. 

When Bush #1 was president and my political awareness started to really form, I thought it couldn’t ever get any worse. When Newt planted the seed of what was to become Trumpism (when Trump was just an Ivory Tower blowhard), I thought it couldn’t get any worse. When Bush #2 used “compassionate conservatism” to level the economy and wage another crusade in the Middle East, I thought it couldn’t get any worse. And then there was a break when things didn’t get any worse and my positive outlook was validated. Now, I wake up every single morning in the torrent of a Tweetstorm with the thought that it couldn’t get any worse as it continues to get worse. The daily disappointment is crippling! In no way am I apologizing for my reactions to the Bushes and the Newts of the past 30 years, but Damn(!), what I would do for those days when attempted versions of civility and  reasonability were, more often than not, an American responsibility. Now... now, our American discourse is completely soiled, seemingly well beyond an industrial stain remover, as a steady stream of verbal diarrhea is sprayed from the Puckered Anus of the White House. I’m covered in shit, you’re covered in shit, the whole country is covered in shit... and I’d like to believe it couldn’t get any worse; but the odor is horrendous and it’s getting harder to imagine a future without this excrement all over everything. Maybe it’s the confusion of morning after another fitful sleep, but I’m no longer saying, “It couldn’t get any worse” because it did and it did and it did get worse; but yet, there is still promise: It’s not the worst it could be... I mean, after the events of the last two weeks (and the last two years!) and the direction America seems to be traveling, my imagination can really imagine what the worst could be and this ain’t quite it... yet. So, starting today, in the earlier glow of daylight savings and on the cusp of the seemingly hopeful midterm elections, I’m going to stop comparing today to the halcyon days of Bushes and Clintons and Obamas because there may be a time, say ten years from now, should the Earth still be inhabitable and I still be alive, when I look back at two terms of Trump and long for the shittiness of these days. Starting this morning, I’m adjusting my perspective: I’m no longer saying, “It couldn’t get any worse,” and instead I’m saying, “It’s unlikely to get better.” Somehow, someway, this makes today seem okay.

Pessimism is less painful and, in an attempt at being in the here and now, the only optimistic way to embrace the day until the time comes when the worst is behind us -- and it will be! -- is to say, "It's unlikely to get better." Repeat. 

Optimistically pessimistic or pessimistically optimistic? Whatever gets me, you, us through the day.