There's no hope for me. By that I mean that hope doesn't grow on trees and it isn't given away - you need to make it yourself, out of raw materials. It's the same as that airplane flying overhead. Sure it's sautered metal now, polyester seat cushions and flight attendant uniforms, but it wasn't always that way. Without elbow grease and dinosaur bones it would fall right out of the sky. Those aren't wings flying that thing, they're "wings." If you don't have the wisdom to know the difference I can refer you to a meeting.
So it's not that there's no hope for me. I'm just having a hard time mustering the energy to make hope - to fashion it out of all the good things allegedly waiting in my future.
This is the stuff blogs are made of.
Interview with Author Erik Marshall
3 weeks ago