The crowdfunding campaign for my TTRPG Chancers, findable and backable over here, has about four days left to run on the ol’ calendar. That means, by my reckoning, I have sustained a cheerful optimism about the project for about 26 days at the time of this entry. That’s an awfully long stretch for a broad-spectrum worrywart like me, and remaining in that mode can be challenging. But I think it can be wise to put in the practice for those times when outcomes and eventualities are only partly in my hands.

The very responsible and well-adjusted adult in me knows that optimism is a perspective and a choice; when I’m in paraprofessional hypnosis mode, I’m also keenly aware that such perspectives are the fruit of how we think and talk about things. It often amounts to a strange kind of mindfulness exercise. In my normal mode I’m often playfully pejorative when I talk to myself (or “engage in self-talk,” as therapists would probably say). I’ll refer to myself as clown or the more elaborate Clownsocks when I’m trying to goad myself into doing something difficult or even unpleasant. During the past month, however, I’ve tried to more often talk to myself as bud or friend, which is only slightly awkward because that’s the same language I used to talk to our backyard squirrels most days. It’s not a huge thing, but a tiny trick that might be worth remembering when I’m confronted with a long march toward something that seems nearly–but not quite entirely–out of reach.

I’ve done about 75% of the promotional work I intend to do today, and I’ve got just enough gumption left to handle the last of it. Not bad at all for a midsummer Saturday.