So, it's October
Can someone please tell me where all these days, weeks, months are going? How can it be October already? It was just August yesterday. They're not kidding when they say times flies, especially when a person gets older.
It's kinda scary how my life is just whipping by without me noticing it. One day it will all be over and I wonder if I'll know it. Maybe I'll just keep on going, thinking I'm still alive as I walk through the universe looking for my home, thinking I'm lost, but I'm not, not really. You're supposed to be in the now, in the minute, but that is so difficult because there's always something breaking up the sitting in the now. Or maybe that's being too rigid. Maybe everything that happens that gets your attention is living in the now.
I wrote about tinnitus in my last post in August. Talk about living in the now. Right this very second, my tinnitus is yelling and hollering. I'm trying to ignore it, but it ain't working. I'm seeing an audiologist who specializes in tinnitus at the end of the month. I know there's no cure, but I'm hoping she can tell me how to lessen the noise level which has escalated in the last six months. Sometimes I feel like putting a gun to my ears and pulling the trigger, just to stop the noise. I won't do it, though; I don't own a gun and, besides, I'm not in the mood to die right now.
I've been retired from the library for almost 14 months. 14 months! Where did that time go? What have I been doing? Definitely not writing the Great American Novel. Definitely not traveling. Definitely not fixing up my little beat-up home. Definitely not getting fat by eating cake and cookies and ice cream all day (I only wish . . . but not the fat part). Definitely not working out. Definitely not creating a beautiful garden. Hmmmm . . . so what have I been doing? Watching TV (trying to drown out the tinnitus and just because). Writing poems and flash fiction. Sweeping the floor. Sweeping the floor. Sweeping the floor (my cats and dog bring in so much dirt, leaves, and other stuff from the backyard). Saving tons of lizards from my new kitten, the mighty hunter Zoom, who someone very nicely dumped at my front door a few months ago. Planting some wayward plants (most live). Sadly watching my dog Wyoming growing older with hearing and vision loss and mobility issues.
And there's the matter of money (or lack thereof). Should have actually planned a retirement instead of just jumping off a cliff, hoping I could learn to fly before I crashed onto the rocks below. But haven't I always done stuff like that? Aren't I always jumping off cliffs without a thought for the future? Somehow I always manage to survive, but as my sister says, I'm always struggling. So true. All of my six brothers and sisters lead nice, stable lives, so what the hell happened to me? How did the eldest child become the wayward one? I once counted all the homes I've lived in that I can remember; it came to about 35 different places, most of them in the same areas (like Vancouver, North Vancouver, West Vancouver, Burnaby or St. Petersburg, Largo, Dunedin, Tampa). No wonder I'm tired . . . .
Well, who knows when I'll write in this blog again since one minute equals one month these days. Ha!
Comments