Saturday, January 21, 2006
Hope
I realized something.
I am way too jaded and critical, and at times that leaves little room for hope.
First off, lets define hope, shall we?
Hope is this evil little jackass that crawls around inside your body when EVERYTHING ELSE, your logic, intuition and practical sense tells you to GIVE IT UP.
Hope is an excuse to continue to obsess about something (or someone) that everyone else around you is absolutely sure is worth nothing.
Hope is like a luxuriously soft pillow that you sit on, comfortably ruminating whatever it is that you should technically be moving away from. Now this would be all well and good if it STAYED there, but more often than not its cruelly snatched away and you fall flat on your rear.
In short, hope proves to be a very efficient method of bringing down many a strong-willed, opinionated, practical mind.
But then I sat back a second and wondered when it was that I let myself dislike the world so much.
My dad came here a few years ago and for some reason, he seemed to be watching me all the time. At the end of his week-long stay, he told me, quite simply, "You're not happy anymore. You seem to have lost the ability to be happy."
Now, normally, I'd laugh.
See, my dad's the type who believes that if you bend down and touch your toes 20 times every morning, you'll have a flat stomach in four years.
And also that if you push your front teeth back with your palm, you'll have perfect teeth by the time you're 75.
And also that if you drink carrot juice and eat papayas every day, your skin will shine like Aishwarya Rai's. (Of course, by the time your skin shines like this, she'll probably be dead, but who's counting?!)
But THIS TIME, instead of the usual, "Whatever dad."
I went, "Goddamnit, you're right."
And then I think I might have cried a little.
When DID I allow my laughter to stop reaching my eyes?
When DID I allow myself to refuse to admit that a silver lining could in fact, exist?
When DID I start coming up with Plan B, and if that failed, Plan C and D?
I realized something very important then. That hope actually IS happiness. How happy you are depends completely on your ability to let GO of mistrust, to put down your page of calculations and to put your pride and logic on the shelf.
I'm learning to do that now. I am pleased to report that I've started being a lot more optimistic. Learning to believe that people really DO want to be my friends and have no hidden agenda. Learning to recognize the true value of hopes and dreams. Learning to compliment people and REALLY mean it. Learning that if I WANT to marry hot guy, it IS actually possible!!!
Thanks, dad.
And just for the record, carrot juice is yucky.
I am way too jaded and critical, and at times that leaves little room for hope.
First off, lets define hope, shall we?
Hope is this evil little jackass that crawls around inside your body when EVERYTHING ELSE, your logic, intuition and practical sense tells you to GIVE IT UP.
Hope is an excuse to continue to obsess about something (or someone) that everyone else around you is absolutely sure is worth nothing.
Hope is like a luxuriously soft pillow that you sit on, comfortably ruminating whatever it is that you should technically be moving away from. Now this would be all well and good if it STAYED there, but more often than not its cruelly snatched away and you fall flat on your rear.
In short, hope proves to be a very efficient method of bringing down many a strong-willed, opinionated, practical mind.
But then I sat back a second and wondered when it was that I let myself dislike the world so much.
My dad came here a few years ago and for some reason, he seemed to be watching me all the time. At the end of his week-long stay, he told me, quite simply, "You're not happy anymore. You seem to have lost the ability to be happy."
Now, normally, I'd laugh.
See, my dad's the type who believes that if you bend down and touch your toes 20 times every morning, you'll have a flat stomach in four years.
And also that if you push your front teeth back with your palm, you'll have perfect teeth by the time you're 75.
And also that if you drink carrot juice and eat papayas every day, your skin will shine like Aishwarya Rai's. (Of course, by the time your skin shines like this, she'll probably be dead, but who's counting?!)
But THIS TIME, instead of the usual, "Whatever dad."
I went, "Goddamnit, you're right."
And then I think I might have cried a little.
When DID I allow my laughter to stop reaching my eyes?
When DID I allow myself to refuse to admit that a silver lining could in fact, exist?
When DID I start coming up with Plan B, and if that failed, Plan C and D?
I realized something very important then. That hope actually IS happiness. How happy you are depends completely on your ability to let GO of mistrust, to put down your page of calculations and to put your pride and logic on the shelf.
I'm learning to do that now. I am pleased to report that I've started being a lot more optimistic. Learning to believe that people really DO want to be my friends and have no hidden agenda. Learning to recognize the true value of hopes and dreams. Learning to compliment people and REALLY mean it. Learning that if I WANT to marry hot guy, it IS actually possible!!!
Thanks, dad.
And just for the record, carrot juice is yucky.
Queen Sana at 2:04 AM
