Man, I fucking hate that word.
Hope has this connotation, this idea in mainstream that it's actually a good thing. Where this came from, I have no idea, but it's used constantly to invoke some sort of positive response in people. In this time when our language is being redefined on a daily basis, when people are getting to the reality of what it means to "have faith" or what have you, why is "hope" taboo?
Dictionaries break down the word to even make sure that there's this idea persists. For instance, the definition: a "person or thing in which expectations are centered" seems like a valid, non-connotation-based definition until the example sentence afterwards: The medicine was her last hope. Seriously, how did this become the example? The last of the sick dying of the black plague was man's only hope for survival. There. An example that is much more "gray" than disturbingly positive.
You know what? I'm gonna redefine the word here. Screw the 40 different definitions for the word, I'm going to give one (ok, two, because you gotta verb it as well) that fits them all.
hope [hohp] 1. Noun. A desire that has no basis in reality to come true, but we wish for it to be so regardless. 2. Verb. The act of having hope.
Seriously, that's it. Let me break it down for you. Hoping is simply wanting something, but not having any idea whether or not you're really going to get it. Sure, you can work at it, do what you can to make it happen, but if any action you take would assuredly make it happen, then it's no long hope. It's simply an action (or for you physicists out there who probably aren't reading this, a reaction).
So in truth, it's just a baseless desire. Now THERE'S a word that has changed meaning in the last few decades. Used to be you could wake up in the morning and desire toast for breakfast. Now if desire is one of the first words out of your mouth in the morning, someone is bound to have a snarky giggle before you even finish the sentence.
What's to stop hope from having the same connotation? After all, most likely as your reading this, that guy nearby is hoping to have sex with you anyway. He's got no basis for this; he doesn't know who you are, what sexuality you may be, and probably doesn't even know how to start up a conversation. Hell, he's probably trying to get a look at what you're reading in hopes he can use it as an icebreaker. Won't he feel awkward when he sees the title and starts yammering about starving kids in Africa, or how his parents died, or 9/11.
We've taken the time to redefine Belief and Faith as modern-day consumers. Since Hope is really their relative, we really should not still be blindly considering it to be a positive thing. Hope is the waiting room attendee's hope that something will cure someone's cancer before they die as much as it it is the psychotic's hope that the next kill can stop the voices in his head. Neither has much basis in reality, neither knows for certain whether or not the actions taken can truly make a difference, but they both hope it's true.
Seriously, the only line between Hope and its ugly cousins is sacrifice. Hope can still maintain some sort of innocence only in the fact that it can be completely internal; one doesn't have to act on one's hopes, and in fact acting on it often defines it as something else, although it still remains a hope. The willingness to sacrifice someone else or someone else's hope turns it into a belief, whereas the willingness to sacrifice yourself or something you believe turns it into faith. One can fervently hope that the heathens will come to realize their ways are destroying the core of humanity; the believers gather followers and launch wars against their enemies with hopes of converting them through martial prowess; the faithful strap bombs to their chests in hopes that their sacrifice will teach others the evils of their ways.
Seriously, fuck that word. Every time I see it now, it just makes me angry. It's constantly used as a trap to elicit feelings of guilt for things that, in truth, we hold no real responsibility. Fuck sending money in some sort of hope that it'll do some good. If you really feel that guilty about starving kids in Africa, pack up your own bag of money and catch a plane. See how much good that bag of money will do out there. Or get a job working for the cause, and make sure the donations are going somewhere good. Then tell those you trust that you know this is going to make a difference, not simply hoping it is. Take away the hope and just it into a want. Make it something you can actually do something about, instead of hoping that your random donation is going to a good cause.
I hope you didn't read this hoping for some sort of positive twist at the end; but then, neither of us have any basis in reality for that, so screw it.
There was a door inside my head.
I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions. Some are more successful than others. Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream. I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine. I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way. I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before. These are more of a viewing, a playback of something. At least, that's how it feels.
This was unlike either of those.
My eyes were closed, but I was still awake. I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years. I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups. Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties. It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.
I blacked my mind. It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire. For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel. This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.
When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused. Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this. Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness? This was strange.
I pictured myself walking to the door. I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest. I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it. This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it. All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me. I gasped within my head, and the image was lost. I found myself once again outside the door.
I was unsure what to do. The door hid something. It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something. I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door. Did I construct it? Did my subconscious construct it for me? I've done and planned terrible things in my past. What is behind that door that frightens me so?
Emotion started to make my concentration waver. I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered. I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side. I cannot say for certain. All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.
I opened my eyes. A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids. It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin. It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision. I closed my eyes, and I could see it again. I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.
I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.
I've gone on trips inside my own mind on many occasions. Some are more successful than others. Sometimes it feels like a simple exercise in imagination, but other times I can put myself into a state I cant only describe as a waking dream. I see people I don't recognize, places I've never seen, sometimes even creatures that are beyond even what I would believe I could imagine. I consider it a trip to my subconscious, a way for me to explore my dreams from the outside in a way. I don't have control; these aren't the "lucid dreams," I've had before. These are more of a viewing, a playback of something. At least, that's how it feels.
This was unlike either of those.
My eyes were closed, but I was still awake. I was in a meditative state of sorts, a technique for concentration that I've gotten better at assuming over the last few years. I'll be honest: I first learned it merely as a means to help me get rid of hiccups. Now it's useful in all sorts of situations, from work to normally uncontrollable anxieties. It also helps me get into a mindset that I can normally go on these little trips.
I blacked my mind. It's one of three ways I normally do this: blacking it out, filling it with light, or (if I've got a bit more time) picturing my thoughts being thrown into a fire. For stronger meditative states, the ones that tend to affect my physical body as well as my head, I use numbers and imagine them being created in fire and steel. This particular time, as I only thought to do so quickly, was a blacking.
When I first saw the door in my head, I was very confused. Blacking doesn't normally leave anything, especially not something quite as specific as this. Sometimes there are distractions and sounds that get through, but a large, wooden, double-door and frame, floating in the darkness? This was strange.
I pictured myself walking to the door. I'm still not sure how this worked, to be honest. I was aware in my mind that I was still standing at the door, but somehow I imagined what would happen should I choose to open it. This second me, the fiction inside of fiction, came to the and cracked it. All this me could see on the other side an orange dancing light like a fire, and eyes that stared back at me, through me. I gasped within my head, and the image was lost. I found myself once again outside the door.
I was unsure what to do. The door hid something. It felt like a necessity; I felt that behind that door, there was something important, a part of me that I didn't understand or accept or something. I went through my head, recognizing some of the strange and dangerous thoughts I've had in the past, but I did not move from in front of the door. Did I construct it? Did my subconscious construct it for me? I've done and planned terrible things in my past. What is behind that door that frightens me so?
Emotion started to make my concentration waver. I knew I didn't have much time, and it felt dangerous to throw open the doors when I could not spend the time to deal with what I might discovered. I turned, or, perhaps, it moved to the side. I cannot say for certain. All I know is I made movement to distance myself from it for now.
I opened my eyes. A face appeared surrounding my vision, as suddenly as the door appeared behind my eyelids. It was white and hollow, almost more of a skull than a face but it stretched and moved like skin. It wailed, silently, before fading into my peripheral vision. I closed my eyes, and I could see it again. I shuddered, wondering if this is a sign of a good decision, or a bad one.
I don't suppose I will know, until the time I open the door, and see which truth lies behind.
Projects in the Works
So, just as an FYI: Yes, I am working on things. Big things. Things made of awesome and win. I think they are, anyway. I'm not dead, I'm not not-writing, etc., etc. I'm currently working on a long-ass post about a sort of origin-story on the Precipitous Bar and the Edge. Two different stories, one of which I've already started before. Not sure how I feel on it, though; I may hold off on that until I'm more comfortable on where it's going.
I'm also starting a new novel project among many other shorter ones. It's a bit out-of-the-ordinary for me, in that it requires some research on my part thanks to the fact that it mostly takes place in the here-and-now and deals with historical fiction. As I'm not a huge history buff, nor really that up on geography/current events as I should be, this can take some work. I'm looking forward to some of it, but more than anything I'm hoping I don't get burned out. Still, as long as I can get some framework down, I think this would be a good project to come back to periodically even if I lose steam part way through.
So fear not, all 2-3 readers of mine! I'm still here, and I hope I will have more coming in the near future. And yes, I'm pretty sure all of the stories to come will be supernatural in some shape or form; despite trying new genres, I don't think I can ever really get the supernatural completely out of my head insofar as the stories I like to tell.
I have, however, decided to stretch my writing muscles a little bit more. I've been doing a few game reviews and other random, often far-too-long posts on G+ recently, mostly involving dreams or funny anecdotes from life (you can see that here if you're so interested, just ask me to add you to my Video Games and/or Dreams circles). I'm hoping to get a few more of these kind of things going as well. I have a couple of options, I hope, to see what I can pull off, but we shall see. Hopefully, there will be more to come should that happen.
So yeah! Hopefully, within the next couple of days, I'll have the opening for the Foxfire Protocols (the novel project) up here to pique interest and get some feedback on the idea. I will probably post the first few chapters, although I may not submit the whole story to the blog. We shall see. Anyway, thanks for reading! The encouragement has been wonderful.
I'm also starting a new novel project among many other shorter ones. It's a bit out-of-the-ordinary for me, in that it requires some research on my part thanks to the fact that it mostly takes place in the here-and-now and deals with historical fiction. As I'm not a huge history buff, nor really that up on geography/current events as I should be, this can take some work. I'm looking forward to some of it, but more than anything I'm hoping I don't get burned out. Still, as long as I can get some framework down, I think this would be a good project to come back to periodically even if I lose steam part way through.
So fear not, all 2-3 readers of mine! I'm still here, and I hope I will have more coming in the near future. And yes, I'm pretty sure all of the stories to come will be supernatural in some shape or form; despite trying new genres, I don't think I can ever really get the supernatural completely out of my head insofar as the stories I like to tell.
I have, however, decided to stretch my writing muscles a little bit more. I've been doing a few game reviews and other random, often far-too-long posts on G+ recently, mostly involving dreams or funny anecdotes from life (you can see that here if you're so interested, just ask me to add you to my Video Games and/or Dreams circles). I'm hoping to get a few more of these kind of things going as well. I have a couple of options, I hope, to see what I can pull off, but we shall see. Hopefully, there will be more to come should that happen.
So yeah! Hopefully, within the next couple of days, I'll have the opening for the Foxfire Protocols (the novel project) up here to pique interest and get some feedback on the idea. I will probably post the first few chapters, although I may not submit the whole story to the blog. We shall see. Anyway, thanks for reading! The encouragement has been wonderful.
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