Optimistic Nihilist?
Or Pessimistic Optimist?
When I wrote this in November 2019, the microbe that has turned the world on its ear was merely a rumor among a sea of rumors. We didn’t give it much thought. But even now I stand by my optimistic nihilism. It serves me well.
It’s all going to hell. There’s no hope. As a species, we’re too short-sighted and too driven by greed and fear to slow this juggernaut.
We’re going over the precipice and no superhero is in sight to save us.
As California burns and chunks of Greenland’s ice sheets the size of Connecticut slide into the ocean we’re still mostly concerned with what next to binge-watch on Netflix and how to pay less on gas and taxes.
I’ve gone on about this before.
We’re still rushing headlong towards the edge of the highest cliff and I don’t kid myself that I’ll be immune from the effects of the coming maelstrom (c’mon, I live in New York City). But here’s the crazy part: I still think we can pull this off. I don’t know how but cockroaches got nothing on humans for mind-blowing adaptability.
Now, let’s be clear about what I mean when I make this bold claim that “we” can pull this off. Depending on your source there would only need to be 500 to 5000 of us left standing (and presumably breeding) to keep the species in the game. And given our species’ track record for surviving the unsurvivable, yeah, I’d put money on those odds.
I’m less sanguine about my odds. Or yours.
We’re all tooling along as if we got all the time in the world just like everyone else has throughout the entire history of humankind. We all think we’ll be able to get to that tomorrow. And everyone is so surprised when their own personal apocalypse arrives (yes, I swear that I’m on it to get that will prepared; honestly).
This places me squarely in nihilism territory.
And yet here I am, sleeping well most nights, fairly relaxed and loving my life even if I am unemployed and blasting through my savings at a breathtaking pace. I have the most incredible friends on the planet and I’m pretty sure most of them feel the same way about me. I’m in what is solidly the strongest, healthiest, most fun romantic relationship in my life. We live where we want to live and, for the most part, do the things we want to do. True, we’d hoped to save enough for two big trips again next year as we did in 2019 but unless I get work right snappy that’s not going to happen.
File that under first world woes. Not even. File that under life on life’s terms, bubby.
I suspect my devil-may-care attitude may have its roots in what I’ve survived so far in my life. Drug addiction, alcoholism, extreme poverty, physical and sexual abuse, hospitalization for a raging autoimmune condition, death of a partner, and multiple trips to the DMV. I’m a lot more resilient than I’d have expected.
Hell is coming. Make no mistake. And the best way to face hell is arm in arm with your tribe. Standing at the center of my tribe I’m going to go down with a big old smile in my heart. What a ride it’s been.
© Remington Write 2019. All Rights Reserved.
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