Pessimistic Optimist

I like cinnamon applesauce. Perhaps looking at the small container of a lighter unsweetened version of applesauce today made me think about it. I don’t know why that prompted more, but it did. Two spoonfuls later, I’m not displeased but I’m not overjoyed as I am when there is cinnamon in it. In fact, it’s taken on a kind of bland mush taste in my mouth with the consistency of oatmeal. That’s kind of how “change” works for me most of the time. It might not be something terrible, but the chances of it being “great” are fairly slim and it gets progressively less desirable. Why is that? Why couldn’t a change knock my socks off? Am I too optimistic that change could bring something better? Is the grass always greener in my mind? Or maybe it’s simple. Maybe it’s just that my life sucks. I find that easier to believe. It’s more of a reality than anyone or anything else around me. I’m a pessimistic optimist. Hear me roar.