megfowler.com

I am too much of a cynic to:

love greeting cards; trust people who quote song lyrics very often; believe in love at first sight; do cleanses; call the complaint department; use more than one exclamation point at the end of a sentence; drink red wine on a white couch; buy into compliments; write the same way I did three years ago; cry at television ads; think I’ve actually gotten the last spider; read advice columns; go on blind dates; put people into my cell phone address book after one call; trust the phrase “no problem”; or believe in Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, or Lloyd Dobler.

But I am still too much of an optimist not to:

scrap the recipe; buy the latest eye cream; quote lines from old romantic movies; develop crushes; sing country music too loud with my eyes closed; apologize first; own a jump rope; dance with abandon; believe he’ll still email; pick snails off the sidewalk and put them in the grass; ask the freaky question; think soaking the pan will help; blow dry my hair on rainy days; think babies are astounding; write my heart, even when I know it will sound stupid as hell; or press “publish” right now.