A few positives...

It has been suggested that perhaps I set up an alternative blog to list all the positive aspects of this wonderful world of ours. I considered the possibility briefly, before realising that all said aspects can probably be incorporated into a single posting. I'll try and pinpoint a few of them and see how it develops - who knows, maybe this post will be the pathway toward becoming an optimist.

Beaches. Actually, this isn't technically true. I like the idea of beaches - I spend hours imagining a suitably tropical paradise to escape to, ideally complete with monkey and palm tree. In reality, though, sand gets right on my nerves, and I cannot bear the feel of sand between my toes. I'm much more of a 'lie on a convenient rock' sort of person, although there is of course the issue of grinding my bones on that. Hm. Maybe I don't like beaches after all.

Ice-Cream. Now, surely, I can't find fault with the likes of Mr Ben and Mr Jerry, a fantastic duo who have accompanied myself and millions of other women on those inevitable tear-filled nights. The problem is, of course, it is very easy to enter into that dangerous cycle: eat ice-cream to feel better, then realise the vast quantity of calories consumed. Therefore feel miserable, and lo and behold, head back to the freezer department. Ice-cream is really only suitable as a reward for, say, running a marathon - those poor calories need replacing ASAP. Unfortunately however, I can't say as I ever run for the bus, let alone slog away for twenty-six miles. Hm.

Family Photographs. I do enjoy a good few hour session going through photographs - the ones of you and your siblings looking really rather daft, and your parents with outrageous hairstyles. (In the case of my mother, winged glasses are a prominent feature in many snaps. Most unsettling). Being child number three, there are considerably fewer photos of me than of my brother and sister - the novelty of 'cute child in funny hat', or, 'first time waddling' photos had somewhat evaporated by the time I appeared on the scene. Which does no end of damage to one's ego, realising you are the Less Interesting and Non Innovative Number Three. Sigh.

Massages. These are lined up neatly alongside beaches, I'm thinking. Something I dream about for hours but when it comes down to it, really can't stand them. First massage experience was in Jamaica: legs riddled with mosquito bites and the damn woman insisted on rubbing in some substance that burned pretty damn painfully. Risked a second attempt in Goa a few months back: thought I was getting a bargain, about five pounds for one and a half hours of personal attention. Not only do I dislike being forced to strip and then rubbed down by some random woman, but she also came close to permanently removing my kneecaps.

Complaining (specifically, on my blog). Ach, I love it. It gives me immense please to know that on a daily basis I am offending people, being annoying, insulting and cutting, all combined with a smug, self-righteous and downright arrogant attitude. I think I've just concluded that everything I thought I liked is actually fraught with hidden mini-hells, and that the creation of a 'CheerfulJane' counterblog just wouldn't work. And on that note, I'll leave you and indulge in a few episodes of, 'Family Guy'. Stewie for President, I say.