Sometime last week, my ma thought it would be cool to go and see the ‘world famous’ psychic, Sally Morgan, with my sister. My sister had other ideas about this and emailed me a long, long diatribe wondering why people like to believe in “utter garbage” when reality is a much more worthwhile space to live in.
For the record, my sister is into science, engineering and mathematical problems. I am into magic, stories and TV scheduling problems. Despite this culture clash, we get on just fine considering our 16-odd-year age gap. A scenario in which I am older and therefore infinitely wiser. Supposedly.
I hope she won’t mind me quoting her (I won’t ask her in case she does), but one of her statements was: “It’s like believing The Only Way is Essex is real” (that’s an awful TV show here for the benefit of our overseas readers – and not one of the shows I have problems scheduling). “What’s the point? No one would choose to believe a lie.”
Which is where she was totally wrong in every way (and so was I – I actually thought TOWIE was real). Can anybody honestly say they don’t believe any lies at all? It’s simply not possible. You probably believe that your car will be OK if it gets hit at speed by a truck or you wouldn’t drive it, but you only have to take a look at the news to know that’s not true. You can believe you have a job for life, but that’s not true either because ‘stuff’ happens that involves ‘other people’ and it can all change in the blink of an eye. If we didn’t believe these lies, there would be no point in doing anything at all for fear that it wouldn’t work out at least partly in our favour.
Which is when I realised there is a really fine pencil line in the sand of human events at which point we interpret ‘lies’ as ‘hope’. A totally human state of mind that no other animal shares. No rabbit hopes there will be food today. It knows it has to go and find it, yet as humans, we are quite happy every single day to invest our futures in this ‘hope’. It’s hope that is the greatest defence against fear of failure. Dogs however may be exempt from this – have you seen their faces whenever you go to
I’ve gotten off subject haven’t I? Anyway, they still haven’t decided whether to go or not. I tried to talk both of them into spending their money on getting some ink, but it fell on deaf ears. I backed it up with an explanation of how I see dead people every single day – getting on the bus, going to a job they hate, going home and then doing it all over again tomorrow. My ma sarcastically threw back at me “and I suppose people with tattoos don’t act like that then?” I thought about it for a while and came to the conclusion that, for the most part, no they don’t. People with tattoos have a slightly different outlook on life to the ‘others’.
And then I left to go home in case I had to explain myself any further, but I know what I meant – and so do you.