I cannot sleep. Everyone has a sleepless night now and then, but combine menopause and a pandemic schedule that requires me to go nowhere? Forget about it. I’m like a teenage boy. And as I lie awake, tossing, turning, playing Yahtzee on my phone, all of these mysterious and vagrant thoughts loop endlessly in my head, not the least of which is, I may have a bit of a gambling problem. Sorry, Digressing. Hang on a minute, Imma delete that Yahtzee app real quick. Ok, let’s just close the eyes. Deep breaths…Inhale in. Exhale out……Nope. Who am I kidding? I’ve got a good couple of hours before my brain will even consider taking a break. Hey, here’s an idea! Since I’m up, and you’re up…oh, sorry, were you asleep? Well, now that we’re both up, how’s about I share some of my thoughts with you? Ya know, a little stream of consciousness thing. What d’ya say? I’ll use bullets, they make everything look so professional, dontcha think? Yea, totally. Ok, here goes…
The pieces I’m working on for a friend looked better in my head than in reality.
I keep putting off that Excel assessment test on the job site ‘cause I’m not nearly as “proficient” as I say on my resume.
I totally cannot die before Ralphie. He doesn’t know where anything is.
Will there ever come a time when we go a whole day without wearing, washing, buying, or reading about masks?
The only available COVID-19 vaccine in NY at this time appears to be in Plattsburgh. 276 miles isn’t that far….
I wish it were time to get up, so I could have my coffee.
I feel guilty about the fact that I love my “My Pillow”, cause the CEO is a douchewaffle.
Lefty Lucy, Righty Tighty
What, exactly, is wrong with people whose TP rolls under instead of over?
Should I go on? Wait, are you sleeping? Huh. It’s only 1:30! Well, ok. I’m fine by myself. I know, lemme show you something!
It’s a mess, right? It started off as a commission for a dear friend and it was literally a heartbeat away from being done, but when I was putting the final touches on it, it looked like two giant breasts. Breasts on a bracelet. Yep. Threw it in the scrap heap and started again. But ya see on the right side? Where it looks like the animals have started feeding? I used part of it for the bracelet that eventually graced the arm of my friend. What’s the point? I don’t f*^#ing know! It’s two in the morning!! Ok. The point. The moral. Well, I could unearth the old chestnut about beauty born out of something scarred and unacceptable. That’s always a good one, no? Nah. I just love looking at it. It’s like Chernobyl. It’s abandoned. Forlorn. But if you go there now? Still abandoned but literally covered in this lush greenery. It’s kind of amazing. Yup. Yup. K, Imma try to sleep now. Thanks for staying up with me. We’re both gonna look like two miles of Chernobyl tomorrow. It’s temporary.
What constitutes success? What is it, exactly, that you can look at and say, “Well done! Ya did good!” Certainly, there is the obvious. A fabulous career. Plenty of security. 2.5 beautiful, equally successful children. Perhaps fame, or the eternally youthful good looks that every “older” person seems to have only on commercials and soap operas. But is that it? Does that mean that if you don’t have at least two of the above, you are not a success? Or worse, you may even be a, *whisper*, failure?! As anyone who’s ever met me, or read a word I’ve written knows, I’m not any of those things. I haven’t yet found a paying career I love, I don’t have children of my own, I am not famous anywhere but in my own head, and it’s quite possible I will be living in a refrigerator box in the not too distant future. Am I a …failure?! My aunt called last night to tell me that my cousin got a promotion, and I couldn’t be happier or prouder. But when I got off the phone, I started to cry. WTF, what’s that about? I didn’t feel envy or resentment over his success. I was genuinely thrilled. It took me a second to figure out that the person I was feeling sorry for wasn’t me. It was my mom. I felt bad that she didn’t have a reason to call everyone up and brag…….Ok, now that I’ve written that down, let’s call bullshit bullshit. it’s pretty clear that it’s 10% about my mom and 90% about me. Fine, 100% about me. OK? Stop hocking me! I admit, I don’t always feel like the most successful person that ever lived. And looking back, I think that is a mantle I’ve worn since I was a kid. Why? Who the hell knows? Can I blame my parents? What’s the point? I’m not a child anymore, there is no more finger pointing necessary. There are many measures of success. Certainly there are the obvious. But what about the not so obvious? Are you loved? Do you love in return? Do you try to give back? To leave this world even a tiny bit better than it was before you got here? Do you make people laugh? Do you create something of beauty? (Remember, it only needs to be beautiful to you…) Do you learn something new? Do you teach another something new? Can you look back and see growth? Can you look inside of your perfectly imperfect self and say, “Well done! Ya did good!”
One of the side effects of getting older is…people leave us. Through divorce, distance, disappointment, death. The global crises we witness can be horrific, and they touch us, but softly and indirectly. Until they change their plans and smack us upside the head. A dear friend of ours died of COVID-19 today. Of course the pandemic has affected us like so many others. We’ve lost jobs, travel plans. We’ve spent too many special occasions apart, we’ve washed our hands until they are raw, but we survive. Until one of us didn’t. We are shocked and heartbroken, not the least because we cannot be there for the family. We cannot hug them, nor all of our friends who grieve with us. We have been smacked in the face. And all we can do is mourn our friend, and be there for the family, and wait for the sun to come up.