Caterwauling

I appreciate others’!

This was my Late Lent last year. It was the last time I looked at a delightful delight’s not-delightful social media.

Late Lent lasted till August. Whereupon I discovered that Delightless was still my biggest fan.

Still is.

I recently offered to sign autographs. It’s awesome to have a fan club. Cheers me right up.

Makes me want to rethink Late Lent for 2022!

The first time is always the hardest.

Beats going to places to insert oneself in a photo that was always meant to disappear.

Martin, Walter, Ian and Toby are all bosses I’ve had.

If we are going with that theme, we need to name a storm Brad. He wouldn’t bother to show up and it would be a big, expensive letdown when he did.

I don’t think about getting older. But I do spend an insane amount of time thinking about what I wouldn’t be able to do without my (admittedly decreasingly optimal) health.

Rather, I spend an insane amount of time thinking about HOLY SHIT, WHAT IF I NEVER GET TO DO ANY OF THE THINGS I’VE DELAYED.

I was just looking at some artwork in a medical establishment, done by patients, children, spouses and supporters who were/are part of this important journey.

I used to think that if some horrible diagnosis or other misfortune would befall me, I’d beat the odds.

Fuck the odds. I would be the miracle. I’d make them RECALCULATE THE ODDS.

Now … enh.

I see average people doing just fine in this world. Average students who went on to average existences. They seem happier than us ex-overachievers who have the nice cars and nervous breakdowns and questionable health to show for it.

In the face of, let’s say, not the best news, you look at a median survival rate of, let’s say, five years. I imagine many would say, “I’ll make it 25!” And I’m over here like, I can’t commit to a diet for five minutes. Dealing with something you can’t quit for five months … that may not be overcome-able even after five years … sounds pretty goddamned exhausting to me.

In any event, when faced with insurmountable things, I know the moment I stopped being the exception.

I just wonder when I stopped assuming I’d be the exception. And how that could/have changed things.

When I was at the last job, I longed to be back at this one.

Now … I just want to retire.

Which, according to my target year fund on my 401(k), is 23 years from now.

Which makes me wonder … I already know I don’t have the energy I once did for this insanity. I will never work those 14-hour days with two-hour commutes again.

And I’m not real sure I can keep doing 8-10 hours anymore either. It’s too intense, man. And the only solution is to give up projects I want because the rest are quite consuming.

This makes me to examine the lives and livelihoods of my Silent Generation and Boomer-age extended family. Some will never die. Others are so tired of hurting that they would welcome it. Every damn one of them retired early or on time, either way.

Makes me wonder, does my evil ass live to 100 like the hypocritical religious ones who feel entitled to long life?

Or do I kick off by/at retirement age as a result of un-/under-treated illnesses and pain like the (other?) good ones?

Just look at the Van Zant family. Ronnie — the one with all the talent, the one who wrote songs about the environment and voted for Carter — died young. And his idiot brothers are now serenading Wrong DeathSantis in song.

(Also, fuck Johnny. Seriously. His “Brickyard Road” got me through a very frustrating time in high school. The only reason that song was a success was because it was ABOUT his brother, I see that now. Just go back to fronting a cover band, bud, and I’ll just be over here burning your cassette.)

I used to think of myself as supra-human. I felt like I could rise above any sort of genetics or other preordained fate.

There’s also beauty in not knowing half my family. My chances of mortal pain and suffering are instantly slashed.

Unfortunately, I kind of had that bubble popped when my half-sister’s mom died last year.

Not that there’s any blood relation there. But I’m guessing she must have been a good person and that the rest probably aren’t quite in that league.

Probably a good guess. Also, damn it.

In any event, I’m not going anywhere yet. (Sorry TuhNaKYiz.)

Staying alive and sane is my main goal right now. But if at some point, I can’t muster the energy to do it even out of spite, assume faulty genetics won.

Actually, don’t assume anything. I plan to outlive my superfans even if it’s only by 15 minutes.

Maybe I need to scale back on the stress sooner rather than later to do that.