Now I know I’m at the bottom of the internet…. but as I was reading it I thought, “I do that. It’s called songwriting.” Half a dozen times in my life I’ve predicted what was going to happen in a song. I will write a song about a hoped for event or individual, and several years or months later, boom. Did I ‘sing the world into being’ or did I just think about what I wanted? I wrote Miss Manners has her say about a specific situation and … well let’s just say the song was a spectacular success. Many, many times in my life I’ve known what was going to happen next, not because I wanted it to happen (some of the things were bad) but because thought about it and I prepared for it mentally and so when the question arises I am the crazy woman who actually thought about it in advance.
This is what is making the next part of my life so hard in my own mind. I know what is going to happen next, and I know how to prepare for it, but I’m old and fat and tired and I don’t want to. I want to pretend I haven’t known for years that a global crash was coming. That it’s going to get worse. That we will all be affected. That people I love will be hurt. That lives will be stunted. That people will die. That ethnic and sectarian violence will blast through every aspect of human life; Archduke Ferdinand is walking around right now and his murderer is too and we don’t know where they will come together in blood and shrapnel and blow the world into another war. Every day I get up and look at the mountains and wonder how much longer I’ll be here. I wonder how much longer I’ll live with hot water, the internet, the organic coffee, the company cafeteria, the job, the sushi. I wonder how many people I’ll be living with, if I’ll ever own my own home again, if I will ever have grandchildren, and who I should adopt if I don’t. I wonder if I’ll ever own another pet.
Having said all this, I still think love is more important, so I guess that’s what I’d prefer to try to get ready for. I believe I will have to work on my luck. But right now I’m all sad face about how I would like to wind down from all of life and just think and be and sing and create, and not worry, when worry seems to be my only friend and constant companion. If I really want love I have to quit worrying by sheer force of will – or at least set it aside for a moment – and get the hell out of the house, and I shouldn’t need an article on the internet to tell me so….
