Pour the pessimist her beer, stir in a bit of optimism, top with a dash of hope— expect some hangover—repeat.
Two nights ago I went to a drinking spree with my guy friends, no, we did not have the fancy cocktails or the coloured drinks. We had beer. There’s something about draft and boy-friends that makes you realize that no matter how fucked up your day would be—it’s all good.
Now don’t get this wrong. Just because I’m having my share of the happy hour doesn’t mean I totally lack solidarity with the plight of the Yolanda survivors. To redeem myself, I have at least taken part in some donation drives. So moving on..
While the world’s sympathy (including yours and mine) is all out on the victims of the current Yolanda tragedy, we cannot deny the fact that in our own ways, we suffer a tragedy of our own. The difference is that, there are no relief operations to save your drowning heart, as much as there’s no donation drive for people to lend their shoulders in as you may need it every possible time. Bottomline: We have our personal brand of Yolanda stirring now or probably has already struck inside and left you high and dry.
In times when my personal Yolanda strikes: these things I live by:
- Pessimism—I would have had worse than that!
- Optimism—Some people had it worse, I am lucky
- Hope—Today’s another day—for draft, or some actual cocktail, and some good fat laugh with friends.
There’s no guarantee that this works but well, hey, I’m all good and moving forward. Cheers!