Cynicism and Negativity — Right Here

If you've been reading this blog for awhile, you may have detected a certain underlying stratum of negativity and cynicism.

I am, in fact, a fundamentally negative and cynical person. I suppose that is the result of my upbringing. I remember being criticized for my negativity as far back as high school, and I think there were instances of it before that whose specifics I've forgotten.

I have always been on the outside looking in, and mostly a loner. I have seldom been completely friendless, though. There are enough of us out here on the fringe because of our looks, religions, clothes, accents, values or family backgrounds that we can easily find each other.

I live in a city eager to pattern itself after the regional capital of shameless superficiality, Dallas. Even so, I have found an enclave of people who are on the fringe as I am, and I have a broad support group.

But I try to avoid being around people who share my negativity and cynicism. You'd think I would seek those people out, and for a long time I did, but now I find my own dreary personality is enough. When others are as negative as I am, it weighs me down. I need some cautiously optimistic people around me to keep me from sinking into utter black despair.

I have a certain admiration for people who can remain cheerful and motivated in the face of the bleak, utter pointlessness of the whole of human activity and existence.

But my reliance on these people to boost my own mood makes me, as I mentioned to Blogblah! on the phone the other night, an enthusiasm vampire. I draw enthusiasm out of other people because I have none of my own. And sometimes they back away from me because they sense the life force being drained from them.

Cynicism and negativity are the way my mind moves. My samsara. I am not seeking to be more cheerful — that would be just as errant as my current state — but I am trying to be more attitude-free.