Before I start this whole bit, I want to make one thing clear: I am most likely, in spite of the fact that I still remember to bathe occasionally, one of the laziest human beings alive. On that note, I wish to warn the reader that this “mini-manifesto” is essentially the only thing I’ve managed to accomplish today—unless making macaroni and cheese counts as an achievement. In other words, I’m not simply putting on an “I don’t care” attitude as a means of elevating my somewhat perfunctory existence. This isn’t about elevation. My persistent denial of the things that upset me isn’t an act of rebellion. It’s simply my way of taking the path of least resistance. So, reader, I ask you, on behalf of all of us who’d rather play Mario Kart 64 than think about the future, to not take any of this too seriously.

So. Denial. It makes sense that it has such a negative connotation, seeing as how it is characterized by a refusal to accept the terms of one’s reality. Still, I have a sneaking suspicion that what most people call “optimism” is a form of denial.
Consider this. Billy is an optimist. One day, he opens his refrigerator to find that his milk has passed its “sell-by” date by a day or two. After finding the “smell test” (come on, we’ve all done it) to be inconclusive, he finds himself in a position to make a choice. Instead of assuming the worst and disposing of the milk, Billy decides to fix himself a bowl of cereal, regardless of the fact that he may soon get a mouthful of funk. Can it not be said that, in his own small way, Billy is denying certain aspects of his reality?
Oh, man. That was kind of pretentious. Anyway, I guess I’m trying to say that positive thinking and the act of ignoring one’s problems are more or less synonymous. Whether one decides to say “Well, golly gee, everything will be alright!” or “Ah, screw it,” the milk in the carton could still be sour.

Now that I think about it, the act of relaxation also requires a certain degree of denial. Case in point: between writing this paragraph and the last, I took an hour-long break to watch an episode of The Millionaire Matchmaker. While it doesn’t matter that I was watching that specific show, I did find the prospect of temporarily ignoring my obligation to finish this article quite soothing. I suppose I should place particular emphasis on the word “temporarily.” Although about 75% of my daily life consists of deluding myself, I’m realistic enough to understand that one cannot ignore responsibilities indefinitely without experiencing the consequences (then it’s a matter of how much one cares about said consequences). I just stopped writing this for about ten minutes to look at pictures of the snow on the college website, even though I can see the snow from a window that’s about three feet to my left. Laziness is awesome, isn’t it? Even now, as I write this, I feel a strange pull to make this paragraph into a half-assed conclusion, in which I retreat into my comfort zone and end with some snide remark. Still, I can’t let that happen, if only for the sake of explaining my affinity for the short-term benefits of selective denial.

I use the term “selective denial” not only because it reminds me of the concept of selective hearing (which I enact on a daily basis), but because I don’t have the strength of will to deny everything that proves unpleasant. For example, I can’t ignore the lamp in my living room needs a new three-way light bulb. That would be impractical. I need that lamp to see, and lacking a light by the front door causes my apartment to resemble a murder cave from the outside. However, the fact that I still haven’t looked for a replacement bulb seems to attest to the fact that I’m still fine with denying this problem for just a little longer. There’s something strangely reassuring about being able to say “Hey, future Ricky can deal with this” from time to time, and I don’t think it’s especially unhealthy to shrug off sources of stress on a semi-regular basis. Sure, there’s some merit to accepting the difficulties in one’s life and persevering regardless, but this seems to work in the short-term. Sometimes it’s okay to not think about things in the long run. We don’t eat in the long run. I think F.D.R. said something like that once. I don’t know. I wasn’t there.