Those days...

A great philosopher of life once said that “Inside every cynical person, there is a disappointed idealist.” Granted, this is the same man who also said “You know an odd feeling? Sitting on the toilet eating a chocolate candy bar”, so let's take his advice with a grain of salt... but its true, it really is.

The longer I go on this route in my life, the more my dreams and hopes seem to fall down, and some days it gets harder and harder to lift them back up. Some days you wonder why we bother to get out of bed, and some days you don't want to get out at all. Hwo does this failing of hope happen. How do we become so jaded and bitter about life and about the future???

I know I have made a conscious effort, especially with the births of my children, to see the good in people, to hope for the best, to assume the good in people - but some fucking idiots make it awfully hard to cling to that belief. It seems that not a day goes by that we don't hear about some idiot blowing themselves up for a cause, or killing everyone in a village for no reason other than money and power... what happened to the good in the world? Did it ever really exist? Are dreams of the "good old days" merely that, dreams?

I wanted to start a blog or a website called "The Good News", one that would only point out the godo things that have happened in the world, the positive achievements of the human race, the decency and well-meaning of we, the people of this smoldering ball of rock. Then I found out I had been beated to the punch... dozens, in fact hundreds, of "Good News" sites exist. And you know what? They're all religious in nature!!! How does that make any damned sense? Are religious people the only ones who can see the good in the world anymore? Are they, these same churches responsible for so much pain and suffering, also the only ones keeping sight of the good things that happen in the world? If so, how damned messed up is that!

I often feel a twinge of jealousy for those with religious faith... some people seem to take great comfort in the idea that there is someone, or something, out there that loves them without thought or reservation, that is watching over it all, and maybe, one day, will explain what the fuck it was all about. When J. died, I needed that, like I have needed nothing in my life. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't put my heart into blieveing something like that, something held me back. Wish I knew what it was.

Anyway, life sucks, you moce on, right? That's the way its always been, that's the way it'll always be.