I'm really bad at being optimistic. Once, in a stupidly foolish moment of one-sided confidence, I declared my conviction that people in general just aren't really interested in what anyone else has to say. They only care if you're interested in what they're interested in. If not, their interest in you is directly correlated to how attractive they think you are.
Horrified, my then-confidante looked at me as if I had just killed a bunny, and then informed me that I was probably "too jaded for [my] own good."
Maybe. But I have a point. I mean, there's an irrationally rational reason why I love bike mechanics that work on my bike: they fix and take care of the most important thing in my life. You get the same effect from mothers when you coo over their not-so-attractive children, or from your friend when you pull out the well-practiced "ohhhhh my god, your new boy is soooooo cute! Where did you find him?" while you make a mental note of never stepping foot in whatever location your new friend found the awkward mess she's currently dating.
And, yes, I am, occasionally, disingenuous.
Like the time I promised everyone that I'm working really hard on hats. Because, um, I really haven't had the time to do that in like...the last two weeks.
Unfortunately, [and contrary to popular belief,] I sometimes have other priorities. Most of which are slowly dragging me under like really wet mud. It's like falling face first into the mud in a 'cross race; but instead of just eating dirt [literally], you find yourself waist-deep in brown goo. And you know that even if you somehow make it out of that cesspool, you still have a hill to climb...with a bike over your shoulder.
Which makes me sort of just want to stay and sink, instead of swim. But apparently there's a finish line, somewhere. So even though every week seems to pitch me into a new pool of mud, I'm still trying to crawl out [and make hats in that narrow margin between climbing the next hill and tumbling into the next obstacle].
I'm pretty sure no one's going to stop and help me out of this mess, unless, of course, it somehow serves their interests. I'm still trying [to make/finish hats] though. I might be jaded, but I'll be damned if anyone calls me a quitter.
[And for the record, I'm not being disingenuous this time.]