On to the next year

I have now commenced with my 44^th year.  Having finished 43 successfully (and I’ll measure success by still being alive and not in prison) then perhaps I shouldn’t try to fix something that’s not broken.  But something feels like it’s broken. 

 I feel like I need to figure things out, make decisions and then act, but I’m not sure if that sounds stupid.  Maybe I should stop making lists.  That may be too drastic.  I could list the pros and cons of not making lists and see how I feel about it and then revisit that decision in a few months.  Woohoo, taking action at it’s best.

I watched “The Big Chill” last night and secretly wished I could make everything all better by bringing a group of people together that I’ll pretend I was great friends with to share a weekend in a private house with a big kitchen and smoke dope all weekend.  I’m sure by Sunday afternoon, everything would be back in order. 

I was realizing last night how I am no longer good at the things I used to be good at.  It used to be that I could sit in front of a piano after years of not sitting in front of a piano and in only a few minutes, play just as well as I ever could.  I haven’t played in a while, but I’m scared to now after coming back to the oboe.  The oboe isn’t as easy as I remember.  I’m a hypocrite.  I preach practice but yet don’t when no one is looking. 

I should be of an age where I should stop feeling pressure from other areas.  I’m a little too much like my mother.  There is a very real need for me to stop freaking out and building up anger.  There is also a need for me to relinquish control over every aspect.  I have a plan, a redundancy protocol, and several backup plans.  That should be enough.  Telling the truth about what I’m thinking is also enough.  No need to paint different pictures or frame things for other audiences. 

Speaking of pictures, I hauled myself out of work specifically for the purpose of catching this view for posterity.  I also hauled myself out to avoid being mugged.    

 

 

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