Positive or negative. It’s your choice. Choose wisely.
This is not the end of the world, although our political atmosphere, debates on global climate conditions, ongoing wars, religious extremism of all varieties, and a general distrust of disparate races, creeds, sexual orientations, gender identities and citizenship status would have you believe otherwise.
Want to meet for a beer? Grab lunch? Stop by Club Condron for happy hour? Go to a Reds game? If you’re a positive person, you have a much better chance of joining me. If, however, you choose to be a source of negativity, I will not hinder your pursuit of misery, gloom and intestinal discomfort. You’re just not going to drag me into the abyss with you.
Look, we all have moments. I get that, and I can tell you most certainly that I’ve had my share. Health, finances, death, job losses. It’s enough to make you do things you’d never consider doing in your right mind. But you have to buck up, dammit! Get through the storm and get on with living positively.
Come on, people. Stop the bickering! Stop the moping! Yes, there’s a lot to be miserable about…if you want to make that choice. Me? I’ll be doing things that make life more enjoyable, things that make other people feel better, things that leave this world a little better than when I joined the party.
Be cool. Be positive. You might just get an invite to join me at Club Condron with the sun on my balding head, the Condron Lady Trio, Pudge the World’s Greatest Dog, and a cocktail in hand.
For fans of poetry, here’s a fine verse from Billy Collins that puts things into perspective more glibly than I.
So much gloom and doubt in our poetry—
flowers wilting on the table,
the self regarding itself in a watery mirror.
Dead leaves cover the ground,
the wind moans in the chimney,
and the tendrils of the yew tree inch toward the coffin.
I wonder what the ancient Chinese poets
would make of all this,
these shadows and empty cupboards?
Today, with the sun blazing in the trees,
my thoughts turn to the great
tenth-century celebrator of experience,
Wa-Hoo, whose delight in the smallest things
could hardly be restrained,
and to his joyous counterpart in the western provinces,