Calling All Catastrophytes!
I must begin with an apology. I am intimately familiar with apologies, as I offer them to myself on a regular basis for being so profoundly disappointing. But let us return to the apology I was beginning to be in the process of making: I have been guilty of megalomaniacal catastrophizing. I have been assuming that I am capable of imagining all of the varied disappointments and disasters that might be afflicting the imaginations of the world's catastrophytes.
Beware the snares of complacent negativity! Because if I know anything, and I can assure you that chances are good that I don't, it's that no one is capable of forecasting the kinds and sizes of troubles the will haunt the minds of other people. Forgive me, gentle catastrophytes, for assuming I was in a position to envision all of your projected catastrophes!
Allow me to regain your trust and admiration by doing you a service; allow me to minister to your miseries by teaching with you, rather than simply at you. Are you concerned about your tortured romantic life? Your wilting professional life? Your barren inner life? Send me your queries, your problems, your questions about the uncertain future, and I will reveal just how uncertain it is and how undoubtedly grim it will be in my brand new "Dear Catastrophizer" section.
Think of me as your Ann Landers of dark possibilities, your Miss Manners of missed or squandered opportunities. Better still, write to me so that I'll be able to more effectively spread the dread this holiday season.
I must begin with an apology. I am intimately familiar with apologies, as I offer them to myself on a regular basis for being so profoundly disappointing. But let us return to the apology I was beginning to be in the process of making: I have been guilty of megalomaniacal catastrophizing. I have been assuming that I am capable of imagining all of the varied disappointments and disasters that might be afflicting the imaginations of the world's catastrophytes.
Beware the snares of complacent negativity! Because if I know anything, and I can assure you that chances are good that I don't, it's that no one is capable of forecasting the kinds and sizes of troubles the will haunt the minds of other people. Forgive me, gentle catastrophytes, for assuming I was in a position to envision all of your projected catastrophes!
Allow me to regain your trust and admiration by doing you a service; allow me to minister to your miseries by teaching with you, rather than simply at you. Are you concerned about your tortured romantic life? Your wilting professional life? Your barren inner life? Send me your queries, your problems, your questions about the uncertain future, and I will reveal just how uncertain it is and how undoubtedly grim it will be in my brand new "Dear Catastrophizer" section.
Think of me as your Ann Landers of dark possibilities, your Miss Manners of missed or squandered opportunities. Better still, write to me so that I'll be able to more effectively spread the dread this holiday season.
POLITE DISCLAIMER: This site is intended for entertainment purposes only. If you are not entertained, fair enough.
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