Hope: Less Toilety And Terminal.

Does anyone else get that sort of excited, knot-in-the-stomach feeling, like something amazing and life changing and brilliant’s going to happen? Something important that you’ve been waiting for, even if you didn’t know it. I only ask because I’ve had it for a few days now and nothing’s happened, or at least nothing that’s registered. Well, that or I’ve got magical wind or some sort of tingly tumour, but we’ll assume it’s the pleasure of subconsciously anticipated wonders because that’s less toilety and terminal.

It’s a good sensation at least, a bit like a constant, mild version of an actors opening night butterflies, or the glowing tickle of friendly trepidation on a first date. It had better not just be me or I’m going to look like a right berk. Anyway, it’s pleasant as I say, so it has that on its side, it’s just – it’s just nothing’s different elsewhere – so I find myself questioning its presence, which is perfectly healthy and normal I’m sure. I’m sure people question their happiness all the time, I mean, it’s not natural is it?

I suppose I’m healthier than I’ve ever been before. I’m not smoking, I’m into the running thing, I’m eating pretty well, and all these things are making physical differences, so eventually I may have an external beauty that makes up for my cripplingly corrosive personality, or at least offers some sort of sweetener. But it’s not that. I’m making an effort to ‘get out there’ and meet new people, try new stuff and all that apparently positive, self affirming stuff, and it’s not always easy for me, or the people I end up meeting, the poor, unsuspecting bastards. But I don’t think it’s that either. No, it’s not that because that’s a normal thing, isn’t it, I’m just describing being a normal person there. So not that. It’s not that I’ve got myself a lovely young (or slightly older) lady, because I haven’t.

As I relentlessly bang on about, I have a habit for being drawn towards those already spoken for and that is the case again, so there’s not even a chance there. Not even a fictional one I can create in my mind. I have managed to realise that sometimes it’s just fairly brilliant to know that person at all, and to not get all weird about it though, so that’s good. But it’s not that either. Feel free to chip in at any point, because I’m running out of ideas here. No? Well thanks a bunch.

I’m not overly enamoured with my occupation at the moment, so it’s definitely not that. Oh, how I’d like it to be that, because frankly, I’m seriously running out of patience with that life segment. So what – in the name of all the many deities we construct to better explain our existence, give us a meaning, and take the edge off of death – is making it feel all fuzzy and prickly and irritatingly hopeful in there? What? Seriously?! You lot are absolutely no use at all. Hang on, what was that bit back there…. hopeful. That’s interesting, I’m not familiar with that word. Where did that come from? Right, wait a sec, I’m-a Google it:

hope·ful/ˈhōpfəl/
Adjective:
Feeling or inspiring optimism about a future event.
Noun:
A person likely or hoping to succeed.
Synonyms:
promising – sanguine – up-and-coming

Well.  There you go.  It would appear that somewhere in the last couple of months, somehow, I have discovered some sort of self worth and belief that the future might be less predictable and samey than I had believed before.  I know right, doesn’t sound like me does it, but you come up with something better. Oh yes, that’s right, you can’t because you’re a device I’m using in order to sound chatty and informal, instead of drearily self involved and pondering (though it’s not working as well as intended), and thusly you are unable to actually get involved in what is a very one sided conversation. Not a conversation at all really. I hope (there it is again) that my stand up is part of this, I think it could be a good show, once finished, and if nothing else it’s been quite cleansing to write it. I assume that the new things; the meeting people and doing stuff, the health, the exercise, the regained independence, the better handling of one sided attraction – the everything – I assume that these are symptomatic of the, what was it, hope. Or causes. Or both. Look, I’m not a bloody doctor or psychologist or whatever, alright! 

The point is that I’m obviously feeling uncharacteristically chipper about life. I can resist a cake. I can spend an evening writing instead of watching hours and hours of predictable tosh. I can run a few miles without wishing for death. I can look at couples and think, ‘ah, that’s nice innit, I’d like that’, instead of a simmering bitterness screaming ‘DON’T RUB IT IN MY FACE YOU ENTWINED, GERM SHARING BASTARDS’.

The trick now will be sustaining this feeling, assuming it is what I now think it is, but that should be simple enough as long as I carry on doing the things I want to do, continue persuing this performance thingamabob, keep from destroying acquaintance/friendship with displays of over the line affection, and make sure I don’t get fat. But I tell you, If in a few days I end up doing a glittery fart or drop dead with a taut, engorged belly, I will be absolutely furious.