I’m a pessimist. And I hate myself for it.

People have told me in the past that I’m aloof and too cynical. Cold. Selfish. Obviously who found me so are no longer around me. A relationship is a two-way street. Why would they want to stick around with an ego-driven cynic like me? Cold anger to prove them wrong has been a part of my life for quite some time.

But then, it ain’t so bad nowadays because I’m beginning to notice some better uses for my pessimistic rigor. It’s just a point of view. It’s a personal belief. Unlike structural racism, it only takes ME to change MY worldview. No, it’s not easy, but I’m getting there.

For example, when I saw Andrew’s article on "ikigai" (translated as "thing you live for" in Japanese) for the first time, I immediately went into the pessimist mode. The original concept is a cool one. How can I disagree with leading a better life finding "the meaning of life?" But then, I also had an uncomfortable thought of “Ikigai is a handy lever to pull for evil executives to exploit insecure employees. Also, Okinawa has the worst poverty rate in Japan. Learn from the happy centenarians from there? Happiness not related to financial status? BS. What a 1st world problem.” Hmmm… It looks as if my meaning of life is to attack really nice people. This is terrible! (Sorry Andrew!)

In the same vein, I’m pretty bitter and aggressive toward well-intended advice given by successful people who are in “mentorship” roles. There is a Japanese proverb that roughly translates to “Bloom where you've been planted.” Even though you are flipping burgers or mopping floors or peeling potatoes, if you do your best, you will be noticed and rewarded. My only issue is that givers of this inspirational advice “tend to” come from a privileged background. Japan is considered to be an equitable society (well, relatively speaking) but there is a strong correlation between the upper samurai class back in the 19th century and today’s top 1% of wealthy households.

So yeah, I have to admit that I’m pretty good at seeing the glass half empty. It’s as if I have productivity software installed in my brain to see things negatively. The moment something comes in, I can immediately Zap it to see a darker point of view. Yikes!

But here’s a silver lining. I finally noticed that I’m “auto-switching the context.” Let’s say I get a new input such as “We should learn from the Japanese centenarians and find the meaning of life in our work too.” Then I respond by “But there are plenty of weaponized versions of ikigai as well.” The tone looks dark but did you notice the way I spun the context? I cited its unintended applications (and consequences). I was applying a new perspective to the issue at the hand. Hey, could this thinking pattern be useful in creative problem-solving?  

Like I wrote in the past, I have a mixed feeling about praising bilingualism, but if I could see my pessimistic tendency as a strength to code-switch or rather context-switch, it could come in pretty handy. I wish I could tell you how I switched a context and solved a million-dollar problem, but no, not yet. But I can tell you a cool example of how the mechanism of context-switch is tastefully applied here.

Case in point: I love the typography of Sean’s newsletter “Pursuing Progress.” He took the Japanese writing system out of its usual context (used for a Japanese audience) and adapted toward an English-speaking audience of his newsletter. The subject line of his newsletter begins with a tight compound of three Japanese kanji characters. Since the newsletter is intended toward an English-speaking audience, the Japanese characters used as a design element stand out. It’s a beautiful use of Japanese typography in an English-speaking context. It communicates the aesthetics, information, and creativity in one. That’s beauty.

I’ve been telling myself: “I need to change myself so I can see the glass half full.” Fuck it. I’m good with seeing the glass half empty. In fact, I LIKE keeping my glass half empty. Being pessimistic is not that bad. When the glass is empty, there is joy in the process of pouring. There is also joy in imagining what could be in the empty space.

But for now, can we order another bottle? lol