Desperation
Created | Updated Apr 11, 2003
Desperation, I have recently found, is more often then not a fallacy of the english language. It has occurred to me, more or less in the last few days- or a week, that many such inaccuracies exist in the tongue; quite simply no other bears me the amount of importance that the former revelation offers.
So, to elaborate, let me first offer that a percentage weighing at about seventy five of those who use the term "desperation" do so erroneously and without a single basis of merit. These are the many millions who confuse hunger, desire- petty and base sensations with something greater. The term is thrown around like Christmas candy or, more fraudulently still, licked with drama in a way true desperation could never try to revel in.
There is, after that seventy, a second group that makes up twenty percent or so of the alledged cases of desperation. These, I find, are strange cases as they do not fit the term we are examining, yet is is a more important state of deress which seems to have been given no title. These are those who have been pushed to an edge from a job or spouse or injury, family- the things movies are made from. These feelings explode in great events, murders, affairs, inventions and arsons. The fault with our last group is that true desperation does not explode into anything- it simply fades and condenses into nothing.
Our last five percent (and I often feel that number is too large) make up those who experience the real deal. No drama, no actual problems or motivated forlornment. True desperation is best described as a cocktail of boredom thrown in with a planet crushing amount of gravity.
This genus of loathing is born hrough time, exceedingly large and misued chunks of time. Actually, to ammend that, let's make up a new word: nonused, for this process of creation demands, shall we say, oceans of stagnant time.
For these few, truly desperate people, escape is an abstract concept. You do not wish for a job or a companion or hobby or even a good movie. This is not to say these things are not viable solutions, much to the contrary, but solutions are to far from the desperates grasp, all one can think is, I wish this would stop.
And I get the feeling, the sneaking suspicion, that for most it never does. Maybe some commit suicide, though this seems far to active for most of these zombies. More likely they die of obesity, or waste away, or let their bodies give way to easily avoided diseases like pneumonia, consumption and scurvy.
For the few that incidentaly escape somehow, lives are unchanged and lessons are completely not learned. They do not walk away with colors brighter or with each breath renewing their sense of being, they simply walk away.
So, to elaborate, let me first offer that a percentage weighing at about seventy five of those who use the term "desperation" do so erroneously and without a single basis of merit. These are the many millions who confuse hunger, desire- petty and base sensations with something greater. The term is thrown around like Christmas candy or, more fraudulently still, licked with drama in a way true desperation could never try to revel in.
There is, after that seventy, a second group that makes up twenty percent or so of the alledged cases of desperation. These, I find, are strange cases as they do not fit the term we are examining, yet is is a more important state of deress which seems to have been given no title. These are those who have been pushed to an edge from a job or spouse or injury, family- the things movies are made from. These feelings explode in great events, murders, affairs, inventions and arsons. The fault with our last group is that true desperation does not explode into anything- it simply fades and condenses into nothing.
Our last five percent (and I often feel that number is too large) make up those who experience the real deal. No drama, no actual problems or motivated forlornment. True desperation is best described as a cocktail of boredom thrown in with a planet crushing amount of gravity.
This genus of loathing is born hrough time, exceedingly large and misued chunks of time. Actually, to ammend that, let's make up a new word: nonused, for this process of creation demands, shall we say, oceans of stagnant time.
For these few, truly desperate people, escape is an abstract concept. You do not wish for a job or a companion or hobby or even a good movie. This is not to say these things are not viable solutions, much to the contrary, but solutions are to far from the desperates grasp, all one can think is, I wish this would stop.
And I get the feeling, the sneaking suspicion, that for most it never does. Maybe some commit suicide, though this seems far to active for most of these zombies. More likely they die of obesity, or waste away, or let their bodies give way to easily avoided diseases like pneumonia, consumption and scurvy.
For the few that incidentaly escape somehow, lives are unchanged and lessons are completely not learned. They do not walk away with colors brighter or with each breath renewing their sense of being, they simply walk away.
