I’m obsessed with numbers. You probably know that. We just did the 235th VOM. This week will be the 234th Live from the Lair. I’m about to turn 50. Is this the last time I’ll do x? Is that the last time I’ll see y? The cat’s last otter. Climbing the stairs the last time. Touring the last time. Driving my father’s Saturn the last time. Seeing my mom for the last time. All of these things loom and could suddenly be upon me.
I hate time. It’s an obsession and a phobia. People used to tease me. Called it Peter Pan syndrome. Obsessed with not growing up. Obsessed with evading grownup things. Arrested development. Infantile fixation.
Honestly doesn’t seem fair. We should all be so lucky as to Live relatively free.
It’s a grey day into which I had a LOT packed. I knocked some things off my list so I could be a less-stressed animal. I didn’t sleep for reasons like those above and my stomach hurts, probably for reasons like those above. I’m trying to knock off the scrolling. Because that seems like something I should be HAPPY to see the last of. But every morning, grinding against the impossibility of keeping my head above water as ilyAIMY’s mailing lists get torn to shreds by spam filters and technical failures. As my website doesn’t load on x, y and z unless I pay an increasingly large amount of money. As everything in my Life becomes increasingly portioned, rationed and OWNED by others.
Truly. We’re such transient creatures. Should I really have to rent every breath? I’ve fallen accidentally into home ownership, and that’s probably one of the best things that could’ve ever happened to me. Something I’d never have done on my own. And honestly, something that for a long time didn’t make any sense. But especially as I watch Kristen’s father and mother age. As I worry about how this will affect us and OUR Lives… knowing that a fickle landlord (and I do Jack a disservice, he was never fickle!) can’t just snatch it all away IS a huge relief. As above… we’re transient creatures and the world is full of evils, cancer and hurricanes. That one bit of pseudo-stability (let’s not talk about banks and who REALLY owns the land… ) should go further than it does in assuaging my obsession with numbers.