If I were to be perfectly fair, there really is much to be thankful for. I have a roof over my head, food on the table, a stable job, a loving family, and a smokin’ ride.

But I always have a tendency to focus on the negative. I get reminded of all the disappointments of life, all the unanswered prayers, all the times when it feels like God left me here to rot, and I get angry instead. I’m upset that I have to spend yet another Thanksgiving without knowing who the love of my life is, if she even exists. Upset that once I go into work next Monday I may have to gear up for another fight with my union and the department I work for, with no resolution in sight. Upset that my health may never get better, and that I foolishly put myself at risk for life threatening diseases. Upset that no matter how hard I try, my blog doesn’t appear to be getting any traction. Upset that my career prospects are quickly going down the toilet.

So yeah, while there may be some things to be thankful for, there are plenty more reasons for me to remain an ungrateful bastard.

But for whatever reason, I trudge onward with hope. There are times when I really despair, but even in my darkest moments I always dream of a better future. I always hope.

So, if there was one thing I should be thankful to God for above all else, I guess it would be hope. I hope that the present darkness will lead to morning light. I hope that I will someday soon meet my true love. I hope for a better future for both my family and those who remain stedfast in their faith in Christ, even in trying times. I hope for the safety of our troops and their speedy return. I hope peace will continue to reign in the hearts of all my dear friends.

I hope.

A recent posting by the Ignoble Experiment got me thinking about a Disney favorite of mine, Beauty and the Beast. Back in the days when Disney was still making animated films that were actually good, they churned out this beauty (no pun intended), a story that centered around redemption and true love. I was too young to fully appreciate the movie when it first came out, but in subsequent years, I began to see myself in the Beast. The years had made me bitter and angry, harboring a quiet rage against a world that I felt did me serious wrong, just like the Beast. Some of it I brought on myself though, I admit, just as the Beast was in no small part responsible for his own misery. And yet part of that rage had to have no doubt been fueled by the despair that he would never be freed from his curse, as each petal that dropped from the flower brought him ever closer to his doom. It took the love of a caring, gentle soul to bring him back, a woman who taught him how to love again, despite his imperfections and grotesque appearance.

A gentle, caring girl, willing to get past looks and appearances so she can see the wounded man behind the beastly image? Yep, quite obviously a fairy tale. If you think this does indeed happen in the real world, then you my friend live in a fairy tale of your own.

This is one of my pet peeves about women too. They complain about guys being shallow and dating on looks alone, and then claim the higher ground by insisting that they NEVER do that. Nope, it’s a guy’s inner qualities that attracts them. It’s the damnedest, most hypocritical crap I’ve ever heard come out of their filthy, lying mouths.

Honestly, the mass of women today have proven themselves to be the shallowest, calculating, back stabbing, most judgmental heartless gobs of human flesh to have ever graced this planet. They will pass eternal judgment on you based on nothing more than the color shoes you’re wearing. They stare right through you as if you were nothing but a ghostly apparition they can barely see, refuse to say thank you when you hold the door for them, and only feign interest in you when they want something. God may have created Adam, but it was Satan who created Eve.

This mass of self interested, self indulgent whores of Babylon have made finding that gem of a woman who really is a cut above the rest virtually impossible. There’s little doubt even if I could find one, she would be taken aback at my beastly rage. Would she be able to get past that? Past the imperfections, the open wounds that cause me such most perpetual pain and grief? Will she be the Belle to my Beast?

Who am I kidding, she obviously doesn’t exist. And unlike the Beast, who found redemption and a happy ending, I can feel the last petal beginning to slip through my fingers, as a lifetime of unredeemable rage awaits me. Alas, in real life, there will be no Belle to save me.