Optimistic

Saying yes, getting it incorrect, and doing it anyway

Apr 12, 2026

Here is my submission for Phillip Slater’s Stories from the Jukebox prompt, Don’t Look Back in Anger, by Oasis.

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I saw a Hallmark movie once where the girl made a New Year’s resolution to say “yes” to everything. Or maybe it was “not to say no.” Just until her birthday in February. And for some weird reason I feel like her birthday may have even been the same day as mine—but I bet I’m remembering that wrong. But it was close. Either way, she was the kind who would overthink, say no to a lot, and who just… floated through life in protective gear.

I don’t remember the logistics of the whole thing. I think it may have just been “yes” to social invitations... I mean she wouldn’t have to jump off a building or anything but she did jump in an icy lake in January. So I mean, there were parameters. But still.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions.

But I guess I did this year.

I started saying yes to a lot more, recently. Not just to requests and invites. Sometimes I said yes to me. And then sometimes? I even went out in search of things to say yes to.

And I’m not saying it’s going great.
Not at all.
See, here’s the part they don’t show you in the movies.

In the movie, she says yes. She takes the leap. She jumps in the icy lake in January and comes up laughing. Life opens up. Things fall into place. It all works out better than she imagined.

That’s not what this has been.

The first thing I said yes to?

It broke my heart.

Honestly, no one would’ve blamed me if I stopped and turned around right there.

They would’ve said, yeah… that one was rough. Not fair. Not the way it was supposed to go.
Go on back inside. Get under your blanket. You tried. You really did.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I let that failure launch me into more… failures.

I’ve been accused of looking at things… optimistically.
Incorrectly, even.

And maybe that’s true.

But still—
I think it might turn out right.

There have not been any big triumphant victories yet. No clean upward arc.

Just more chances to be scared. More things that haven’t gone to plan. More moments where I thought, okay, this is the part where I finally learn my lesson and go back to no.

But I didn’t do that either.

I decided to take the show on the road. To Minnesota. (Seriously, it’s more exciting than it sounds.)

But flying alone.
Strange town.
Terrifying logistics.

Setting this up hasn’t been easy.

Plans have changed.
So many times.
Travel companions have, too.
Prices went up.
And tension.
And nerves.

Misunderstandings.
Things I can’t control.
Issues that are not mine to settle.
The threat of someone being removed from The Will.

What I’m saying is this has not gone smoothly.

But for some reason, I thought I was due.
I’m going in July.

And. I finally got tired of not being able to carry a tune or sing a song... or so I thought. It hit me one day that I could do something about it. And so I started voice lessons. Funny thing is, I’d been told all my life I had a terrible voice, but on the first lesson? I matched pitch on every note.

Let’s not talk about the third lesson where I forgot to breathe and ran out of breath on Happy Birthday.

It’s been a bumpy ride. My lessons are supposed to be every Monday night at 6PM. However, my voice coach has soccer games with her kids about as often as I have something else pop up on a Monday night. So we’ve skipped as many lessons as we’ve had.

But we’ll get there.

I am mostly remembering to breathe.

I’m still scared of the high notes.

And she keeps trying to take me higher.

Then there’s Portugal. Y’all. If you know me, you know that in the past, the question wouldn’t even been out of my friend’s mouth before I would have been shaking my head no absolutely not. I’m just not into flying over oceans. It doesn’t seem natural. Or safe.

But.

I said yes.

Like with a quickness.
Like before I knew what I was doing.

And this was after I’d just taken my first bike ride, after (cough cough) how ever many years, when I hadn’t even been sure at the beginning that my feet could leave the ground and hop up on the pedals. But now, all of a sudden, folks are balking about ticket prices and I’m like... but I already said yes.

In June, I’m going on a team building thing at the beach for us church ladies. A bunch of church admin at the Flora-Bama. What could go wrong really?

We’re stopping there for lunch—and I’m not sure that’s the wisest decision I’ll make all year. Not everyone loves everyone on this trip, if you catch my drift. But I agreed to go because there was a Troubadour Situation in it for me.

(The Turnpike Troubadours were supposed to be playing the night we’d be there—but now the trip date has changed. Twice.
I sense a pattern. And the pattern is: ain’t nothing working out like I thought.

This trobairitz will not be sneaking off—and leaving those old ladies behind—to catch a show anymore.)

But the new girl says we can still catch the Troubadours. We’ll take a mental health day and head down there—and sleep on the beach that night if we have to. I’ve never taken a mental health day. I’ve always been afraid to. It seems... dishonest. Slightly shystery. A little... I don’t know... rule-bendy.

But we’ll see.

Anyway. Now? Parasailing has replaced the Troubadours. I might have mentioned that I don’t like flying over oceans? This also most assuredly includes flying over the gulf.

In a harness.
Practically naked.
With no real protection that I can see.

But I said yes. Without even second guessing.

Then there’s something else coming up soon. Like, real soon. April 20-whateverth is barreling down the highway at top speed. And I had said no. I wasn’t going to do it. But these two buffoons* kind of talked me into it and I was kind of in this “say yes, not no” thing, right?

So I signed up to do the thing. I’ll tell you about it soon, but not today. But let me just tell you, right now? I’m doing it for real scared. Like even in practice. So I might go down in flames. Just maybe. Or at the very least run off the stage and into the hills or oblivion or wherever.

So no—this is not a story about saying yes and everything working out.

It’s a story about saying yes… and things falling apart anyway.

And then saying yes again.

And again.

And again.

I don’t know how this ends.
I don’t know what any of this adds up to yet.

But when I look back on it—all the false starts, the missed notes, the changed plans, the things that broke when I thought they might finally hold—

I don’t want to look back and wish I had stayed safe.
I don’t want to look back and say I told me so.

I don’t want to look back in anger.

I’m not even sure what I do want to see when I look back.

But—
even after this half-cocked sideshow I’m calling my life right now…

I kind of think
maybe
it’s going to be good.

Here’s the mixtape.

Changes — David Bowie (because we were just talking about it and it fits)
Change — Blind Melon
You Should Probably Leave — Chris Stapleton (because why am I still doing this?)
Wondering Why — The Red Clay Strays
Good Lord Lorrie — Turnpike Troubadours (look, it was either this song or Wrecked)
Flyover State of Mind — Michael Marcagi
Good — Better Than Ezra
Name — Goo Goo Dolls
Fix You — Coldplay
Don’t Look Back in Anger — Oasis (hit that high note, boo)
Into the Mystic — Van Morrison