What You've Been Waiting For

In my acquired trend of alternating (not quite regularly) between politically orientated posts and philosophically orientated posts, I've concluded that I'll try some of the latter. It's been a rather long time, friends, since I've felt the need to share some deep-seeded views on life and love with the rest of the intelligent world. But, as always, the time of necessity has once again come, and here we are - you writing, me reading - or vice versa , whatever. For as long as I've been alive, I've always expected tomorrow to come. Whether that be good or bad, depending on whom you ask, isn't predetermined by any means. Quite the opposite, it flows and ebbs with the passing of every hour, every day. It's impossible for me to say that I'll be enjoying my life fifteen years from now, on the day. However, I'm much more willing to make an educated guess at such being true than not being true. The deciding factor, through all the messes life and choice and dark and night, is hope. Yes, I can remember a recent post in which I'd unnecessarily gushed on this exact topic, and I'll try my best in avoiding such from happening again. But, as overused as it may sound, hope is all we have. Please understand me though, hope is certainly not profound and foolish. And it very well shouldn't be. I simply can't take seriously my hopes of becoming the next standing president of Croatia. They're simply unreal. I can however, hope that my life continues in a manner that pleases everyone - particularly myself and the standards on which I stand. That's hope. Hope is realism, for better or for worse. Hope is what we need.

I'm surrounded by youths who constantly damn their own existences. How so, you may (or may not) ask? I'll tell you (even if you don't want to know). They constantly damn their own existences by refusing to accept the fact that their lives just aren't that bad. Yep, I've said it. People enjoy misery, and so does, as well all know, company. There's plenty of company for miserable people. I don't condone it, but I acknowledge it. It's easy to be miserable, let's face it. It's not a daunting task for me to sit and rant about the tragic, losing hand that God has dealt me. I could mention my grandmother's recurring battle with cancer and attempt to evoke some unneeded sympathy - but I won't do so. Why won't I do so? Because I have a realistic hope that every day gets better as we go along. If you're a pessimist (ironically, I consider myself to be one), there's no reason in looking forward to another sunrise. With tomorrow comes another bruising opportunity to alienate someone else, to end a relationship, to choke on an m&m, or to die. This person, whom I like to call Exhibit A, has no hope. There's no hope that his m&m will melt in his mouth (or throat) and not in his hand. There's no hope that tomorrow could bring the strengthening of relationships, and the genesis of friendships with others. There's no hope that life could be won, not lost. And, the sad part is, it's painstakingly obvious. People choose to be hopeless. It's the easy way out.

It's difficult for me to imagine living without some sort of hope. I wake up every morning hoping for a chance to set things right that I may have wronged the previous day. And, because I've been granted the opportunity to merely wake up at all, I automatically hope for the ability to capitalize on the chance. This is where people with no motivation, no determination, and hardly any hope seem to flounder (or flourish, depending on your point of view). A hopeless person, in my situation, would see the new day as another 24 hours of affirmation. Affirmation of just how bad one's life can truly suck. They see not an opportunity for which to be thankful, upon which to capitalize. They see the new day as simply another chance to reconfirm their own pitiful existence. The saddening part is: they're not pitiful. But, as the saying goes, you make your own corn flakes, soggy or not. Ok, maybe that's not the saying I was thinking of, but you get the point.

While I don't want this to become a personal testimony and endorsement for living in the time we've been given - I want it to be exactly that. I want my entire readership to know that we're all extraordinarily lucky to live past the moment's of our births. Any time beyond that is entirely out of hands - and that's something we've got to respect. However, respecting the fragility and uncertainty of life isn't exactly beneficial to the hopeless - as they see it, anyway. There's nothing to come of it but despair. And who wants despair? Certainly not the hopeless. As I meander to the conclusion of this meandering message, I'm not really quite sure with what to leave you. A beacon of hope would all too appropriate, but I'm not exactly in the mood to get quite that sentimental. So, I've decided that I'll end this with a passage from the venerable book of Luke. I hope you've all read it.