This is the last of my updates on the essay I published last week on the strangely huge impact Arrested Development had on my life. If you haven't yet had a chance to check it out, I'd highly recommend you take yourself to The Bygone Bureau and give it a look-see ASAP. Yes, I know I'm biased, but the interwebs are basically a giant swirling mass of biases, so I'm just adding my drop to the ocean.
And since this was the spot where a few short months ago I renounced hope, only to relapse badly a couple weeks later, I figure this would be as good a spot as any to revisit that notion.
Yes, I'm back in the hope business. But it's more a toughened-up, cube-steak hope than the wide-eyed, cotton candy variety. My hope is Sisyphus' hope as he stands with his hands on his hips at the bottom of the hill, knowing what's likely to happen, but always in the business of thinking something else might be possible.