The Carrot.

It's easy to be angry.

So many flashes in the dark; so many tales of good fortune that could lie ahead. Some feel real - you can almost allow yourself to daydream how it could be. How much time you'd then have. How much freedom you'd feel.

When the life you've been presented gives you reason after reason to give up, and seemingly throws obstacles at every turn, it is difficult to maintain that very important, yet fragile emotion: hope.

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I sometimes sympathize with the bunny whose carrot is always kept just out of reach. Just close enough to see it. Just about five years away, but eternally so.

It's easy to be pessimistic.

It's not that the research isn't cool, or that nothing will actually come of it - it may. There are too many smart people working passionately and with all their hearts for it to be any other way. What drags it through the mud is often the messaging:

"There is no reason this can't be in a real-world setting within five years."

"Our mission is to eradicate diabetes by {pick a year}."

"This technology is five to ten years away."

Putting a timestamp on something with so many moving parts is a dangerous practice, and I wish it would end. If you don't know, don't say. There are situations where theatrics, hype, and overselling have a place, but here? Never. Give me a reason to be interested, and then blow me out of the water with what you come up with. Don't tease me with grand, emotional claims. Don't tell me how close you think it is. Show me, and let me be the judge (and cheerleader).

Despite how I feel now, I refuse to let anger and pessimism paint the colors of my carrot. What do I chose instead?

Cautious optimisim, with a healthy dash of realism.