In Hope

     So it was a bit of a funny weekend. I feel rather pissed off, but I think I finally figured out why. I just burned through The Handmaid’s Tale, and 1984. (Not Big Brother, as I so ridiculously messed up yesterday.) These two book have quite a bit in common. They are both, at the time they were written, peering into a dark and bleak future. Both are from the point of view of someone who harbors a knowledge that something is not right, but they don’t have the skill as to say why or what to do about it. There are faint and glimmering pieces of hope in each. Each character has different people they come into contact with and you the reader cheer as you believe they are no longer alone in the struggle. And each book, finally, lets you down with such a force, such a deflation of hope that you are left with a feeling of being supremely ripped off.
     Alone. Alone is how I felt each character was left at the end of each book. Alone in a bad way, not in a good way. Coming from a family of six, and an extended family of zillions, sometimes alone is good. Not this alone, this alone was sad, no one to support you or hear you scream, no one willing to stand up beside you and tell you you’re not crazy things are f-ed up. Desolate.
     My solution to this problem is simple. I am reading part two of The Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Take that Monday morning blues. Zaphod’s so strange you can’t help but smile. Even though, at the moment, he’s totally alone. BUT WAIT! He has two heads, how alone can he be? Ha ~

Zaphod: OK, where’s Zarniwoop? Get me Zarniwoop.
Insect: Excuse me, Sir?
Zaphod: Zarniwoop. Get him, right? Get him now.
Insect: Well, sir, if you could be a little cool about it…
Zaphod: Look, I’m up to here with cool, OK? I am so amazingly cool you could keep a side of meat in me for a month. I am so hip I have difficulty seeing over my pelvis. Now will you move before I blow it?
Insect: Well, if you’d let me explain, sir, I’m afraid that isn’t possible right now as Mr. Zarniwoop is on an intergalactic cruise.
Zaphod: When’s he going to be back?
Insect: Back sir? He’s in his office.
Zaphod: This cat’s on an intergalactic cruise… in his office? … Listen, three eyes, don’t you try to outweird me, I get stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.
Insect: Well just who do you think you are honey? Zaphod Beeblebrox or something?!
Zaphod: Count the heads.
Insect: (Blinking in surprise) You are Zaphod Beeblebrox?
Zaphod: Yea, but don’t shout it out or they’ll all want one.


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