We have a winner!

If any of you wonder about my mindset and my view on life, watch "13 Conversations About One Thing". I know you will because you're just dying to understand and analyse and get close to me. You lie awake thinking, "What makes Duder tick?" and "Why is she the way she is? It's clear that she's been dropped on her head... and yet it's more than that".
Why do I not look forward to things? Why am I so hard on myself? Why do I feel it necessary to work out for 80 minutes so that I can appropriately appreciate my dinner? I should revel more, I should be proud more, I should anticipate and be excited about things more often.
Right.
Here's how this works: I am an extremely lucky person. I have always believed this, and then I thought that it wasn't luck and that I'd done something to deserve the things that I have, but I change my mind back: it's luck. It's always been luck and it always will be luck. It was luck that I was born in Vancouver. It's luck that I landed good jobs. It was bad luck that I've been in a couple of car accidents. Luck that I got a condo. Bad luck that I met Typewriter. I couldn't control any of these things.
I do take credit for certain aspects: I didn't qualify for Boston by being lazy. I haven't kept all my jobs for as long as I have because I'm inept. You might say I "manage" my luck pretty well.
But when it comes to being anticipatory, to looking forward to something.... it just doesn't work with me.
Perfect case in point: I finally tracked down a wily and elusive bottle of Baco Noir that didn't cost the moon. I was so excited: I discovered this wine when I was visiting Ontario about four years ago, and was disappointed to discover that the varietal is quite rare here. So tonight, after working out for 80 minutes to earn my dinner I decided to get into the Baco. Hell, I even decanted the goddamn thing. And? Meh. That's what. Anticipation sucks. When I anticipate, I am let down. I anticipated 3:35 for the Vancouver Marathon. I anticipated some other things that I won't wade into at this point, and they didn't materialize either.
But I'm not morose. Quite the contrary. I'm content, and oft times I'm quite happy (though I don't display it like most regular people do: I see a myriad of amazing things that please me and renew my appreciation of life on a daily basis, but it's more fun to appear crabby and pissed off).
What was it about the Baco Noir? It was the anticipation of it. What was the reality of the Baco Noir? The reality was that I was holed up for several days in a hotel in Mississauga, visiting our satellite and head offices, getting trained, meeting people and.... working out and watching cable t.v. I was there over a long weekend (I think Labour Day) and I thought, "Who knows when I'll be back this way" so I hooked up with Pez and his fiance one day, and the other day I took a tour of Niagara Falls which included a wine tasting in the Niagara region. That's where I met the Baco.
So what was the Baco, really? It was bad luck putting me in Mississauga over the long weekend, and me managing it so that I could get out and have a good time. It was the woman I met because we bumped into each other at the gym and at breakfast a few times. It was Michael calling me at midnight because it was only nine o'clock his time and I know he knew this, but he missed me and wanted to hear my voice. It was one of the high-ups in management being impressed by me even though I drank too much wine at dinner and wore dumpy clothes, while another middle management woman was all but taking her top off to make some headway with him (and she totally ignored me at the airport too, which was fine cause I bought some shitty chick flick book and had a couple of glasses of wine at a lounge before boarding, and was hoping to drink more on the flight so that I could hopefully fall asleep but was unable to because a girl came and joined me - even though I had the whole frickin' row to myself! - but that was okay because she was into kayaking so we talked about that for ages). Niagara Falls (the falls themselves, not the shitty tourist trap that presses up against them). Great weather. Friendly people. Beautiful countryside.
I'm not doing a very good job explaining this. It's probably something like this: I'm not big on getting excited about the prospect of things for a few reasons: a) it's never the same the second time; b) the greater the expectation, the greater the scrutiny, and the more biting the disappointment; c) the unexpected things on the day to day are the best; and d) it might not even happen.
And on a really "out there" level (and yes, I do believe this): I think that the more I look forward to something the more it is likely to be taken from me. This is based on 31 years of experience. I understand that this is because I already have an inordinate amount of luck and that it is quite audacious for me to be expectant about anything. I heard the term "every day above ground is a good day" a few years ago and that's my mantra (as dismal as it sounds) a lot of the time.
Ah! See, now that I've unloaded and disbursed all my expectations, this Baco's tasting pretty good.