Whoosh!

One day you’re young confused, angry at the world and everyone in it. You’re struggling to find your place socially, job-wise, artistically. All while suffering the slings and arrows of a rare, outrageous neurological disorder. 

Then a whole bunch of years whoosh by.

You may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?"
You may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?"
And you may ask yourself, "Am I right, am I wrong?"
And you may say to yourself, "My God, what have I done?”

Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down
Letting the days go by, water flowing underground
Into the blue again, into the silent water
Under the rocks and stones, there is water underground
~ Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime

And then, one day, you wake up and you’re old, a little less confused but still angry at the world. Maybe anger is your/my normal state – sort of like resting bitch face? I’m no longer struggling with jobs and careers because I’m retired. Socially? I’ve accepted, after giving the Party Person/Social Butterfly persona a real solid go for decades, that I’m a bit of an introvert. Not completely but really!

Artistically? While, physically, I can’t do the big canvases anymore and working in clay isn’t logistically possible, I’m still finding ways to be visually creative. Having gallery showings would have been awesome but making art has never been about sales, attention, and adulation (though I surely wouldn’t have turned any of that shit away had it come a knockin’). It's always been about the work, the act of creativity. 

Picasso said, “We don't grow older, we grow riper.” I’m ripening like a pumpkin, left on the porch rail too long after Halloween. Interesting from a biologist's point of view perhaps. Otherwise? Ewwww.

And meanwhile time goes about its immemorial work of making everyone look and feel like shit.
~ Martin Amis, London Fields

Yes … well. I hope that I will soon begin to feel better, rejuvenated even, as I recover from this long-ass foot horror show. Meanwhile, there ain’t nothing that can be done about my lopsided visage (facial paralysis – aftereffect from brain surgeries) or my scalp that resembles the tracks in busy train yard more than a human head. Sure, sure, there’s cosmetic surgery and wigs but that shit costs $$$$$$ and $.
 
Most people don't grow up. Most people age. They find parking spaces, honor their credit cards, get married, have children, and call that maturity. What that is, is aging.
~ Maya Angelou

I hope to hell I’ve matured, at least a little bit, over the years. I *think* I may have. I’m kind but not the nicest person you’ll ever meet. I have firm boundaries.

Certainly not everyone’s cup of tea/coffee/adult bev of choice – I wouldn’t want to be.

We're all fools," said Clemens, "all the time. It's just we're a different kind each day. We think, I'm not a fool today. I've learned my lesson. I was a fool yesterday but not this morning. Then tomorrow we find out that, yes, we were a fool today too. I think the only way we can grow and get on in this world is to accept the fact we're not perfect and live accordingly.
~ Ray Bradbury, The Illustrated Man