A giant O, not just oh, or oh no, but O or OMG. Where did March go? What happened to me? Why haven't I been journaling? At least I am still in the part where I put dates. Thank goodness I haven't passed beyond that point. I'm not at my goal weight yet. And, I won't be at my goal weight by my birthday - 2 days until I'm another year older. But that is faulty like so much of our logic is these days and perhaps always was, because in 2 days I'll be two days older, a year is 365 days, I won't be 365 days older, only two days older. However, in 2 days, I will have to add 1 to my answer, if I answer, when someone asks, how old are you? Why would someone ask a 56 years minus 2 days old person how old are you? How preposterous, how disrespectful. Perhaps there is some wisdom in living in a culture without dates and years to remember. Internally, I think my thoughts are much the same as they always were. Externally, you don't have to look so close to see changes. I can't pass for 21, or 39, or 49 - maybe I can pass for 55! So would it be fashionable to say, I look pretty damn good for 55? However, with this added caveat, then would you also think if you were 45 you look like shit - then thank god I'm not 45. I guess pretty damn good is a lot better than like shit!
Yes I love experimenting with words and wondering why we say the things we say. Some of them are quite dumb in my opinion. Dumb means without speech doesn't it? And words on paper are without speech aren't they? Words on paper are not treated like words spoken so they can't be the same. Defame someone on paper and it is libel, verbally slander? hummm Yet one can have speech without words, words without a voice. The other dumb you say? Dumb as a doornail, no that is dead as a doornail - from the Christmas Carol, dumb as a brick? Yes I would say bricks are without speech unless you are reading a Stephen King novel, then the bricks might have all kinds of words, and you can bet they would frighten you within an inch of your life. Okay, so what is that, where is that point - exactly? Is that one inch from your heart, one inch from your brain, one inch from your womb that once carried life?
Back to a giant O! At least I'm not standing upstairs wondering why I walked up the stairs, or back downstairs wondering what I forgot to bring down. Wondering about words can tire the brain, but wandering up and down the stairs wondering why, can tire the soul. Where am I going? What will I find when I get there? Will I be happy? That is perhaps the easiest question so far. Amazing right? I can answer the happy question. You will not be happy when you get there if you aren't happy now. You see happy travels along as a companion, but sadness and unhappy travels along like a shadow, a blanket over your soul closing out the sun and joy. If you are not happy, you sure as hell better learn about happy before it is too late. There is a tunnel you see, or perhaps you don't see it. And the planks on the tracks are countable. There just aren't as many as there once were. For example when I was 40, I could think my life is not yet half over, because living past 80 was very possible. But now, at 56 years minus 2 days, life somehow became more than half over. The odds of living to 112 are not good. Probably can't expect 100 either. How and when did this happen? Remember the dash, you know what dash, I've talked about it before. You find it on tombstones, Jane Doe, 1955-1999 the dash is everything that happens after the beginning and before the end. I'm still in the dash, and isn't it funny the symbol is a dash and our actions are a dash - rushing around, home to work, to the grocery store, to the bank, to the gas station, to school, to daycare, to the doctor, to the hospital. A dash is a short race. Is life a short race? If it is, when do we get the flag you get before you get the checkered flag? So many questions. But for sure, I can say, if you are looking for happy, it doesn't matter where you go, if you don't take it with you, it won't be there when you get there. Dash or marathon, don't matter much to me, you might say, it don't make me no never mind. Wow I think I could write about that one all day.
It don't make me no never mind, that was a phrase I heard growing up. It was much like throw the cows over the fence some hay. Or isn't she just the cutest little fartblossom. What the heck does that mean. One might think a fartblossom would be a dirty diaper, but I ain't never heard one of those called cute - leastways not on the inside. These days they might put little purple flowers on the outside of the disposable ones just to cutesy them up a little. However, plain old white worked plenty fine, and then there would be no chance one might be in a pinch and put one of them cutesy little flowered ones on the grandson. No siree and you betcha that's good thinking. Yupper. Is it time for supper? Are you hungry? Well how about a good cup of black coffee?
