King of Wishful Thinking

I will begin with a very quick note, to apologise for my absence from your ‘reader’ stats and comment boards of late: I could explain but, frankly, it really is not your burden to bear.  Things are settling; I will be back soon I hope.  Meantime, thank you all for continuing to read my drivel during this absence.

When I was a boy I knew, as all boys did, that everything was going to turn out for the very best.  It went without saying that I would make a more-than-comfortable living from writing sit-coms and screenplays.  My house would have a swimming pool, a full-size snooker table and one of those chocolate bar dispensing machines that did not need coins.  It seemed well within the realms of possibility that I would become famous from appearing in my own films (before, inevitably it seems, deciding that I couldn’t be bothered with all the graft involved and, instead, started appearing in any old shite my agent might offer me as long as the money was right).  I was at an age that meant that I couldn’t completely rule out the prospect of becoming tall, handsome and charismatic.  Not completely.  In my mind I will always struggle to rule out the possibility that all things will end well: however slim, the chance is always there.  Optimism, like getting back to your feet after kneeling for five minutes, is so much easier when you are young.  The fact that I am neither tall, handsome nor charismatic is down to genetics, and the fact that I am neither rich nor successful is down to… well, whatever it is down to, it is definitely not my fault.

I suppose it only right to admit that I am generally not viewed by those around me as one of life’s optimists.  I do believe in the ‘goodness’ of humankind, and I totally believe in the power of ‘good’.  I just can’t help feeling that it might have taken its eye of the ball a little bit just now.  I refuse to be pessimistic about a future world that will contain my children and my grandchildren – I know that at least a very small part of it will be good – but ‘making a difference’ seems impossibly hard sometimes.

We are all passengers on this beautiful blue careering spacecraft of ours; unfortunately none of us are driving it.  Those at the wheel are either drunk on over-the-limit ego, or blinded by the on-coming lights of something much bigger.  This is Big Shit: only the vastness of everything can save us (Little Shit, as we all know, is solved by a Cadbury’s Crème Egg) there is so much potential for a near-miss.  Or is that wishful thinking?

And if I wish to stop it all
And if I wish to comfort the fall
It’s just wishful thinking… Wishful Thinking – China Crisis (Daly/Lundon)

…Oh, and the difference between optimism and wishful thinking?  Well, whilst optimism separates the ‘glass half full peoplefrom the ‘glass half empty’s, wishful thinking supposes that there is just the faintest of possibilities that the glass could, just conceivably, be completely full.  (The realist, incidentally, recognises that should that ever prove to be the case, it would inevitably get knocked over onto the crotch of your white trousers.)  If I’m honest, I seldom expect the best to happen, although I do always hope for better and if it still looks bad, I stock up on bottled water, close my eyes and think positive thoughts…

… I’ll get over you, I know I will
I’ll pretend my ship’s not sinking
And I’ll tell myself I’m over you
‘Cause I’m the king of wishful thinking… King of Wishful Thinking – Go West (Page/Cox/Drummie)