Bitch on the Blog

February 10, 2015

Don’t tell me the moon is shining, show me the glint of light on broken glass

Filed under: Errors — bitchontheblog @ 18:29
Tags: , , ,

Have not so much discovered as confirmed worst suspicion: There is a crap point in one’s life. Namely when you know – and you may deny it till you turn purple – the future is out of reach. Remember that time when it all stretched out ahead of you – everything was possible? You were invincible? Had all the time in the world to follow those butterflies of dreams down the meadow? And then, one day you not so much wake up as shake your head at your folly. I cannot believe it. The only reason I didn’t say ‘I can’t fucking believe it’ because I know some of my readers are of a delicate disposition. And who wants to piss off those who stand by you?

I should have seen it coming. But I never do. Why didn’t I become a fire fighter? That sort of last minute damage limitation seemingly fitting my temperament.

Those of you older to know better please try and tell me something useful, not the well worn. I fight my way through an avalanche of worn cliches every day. And am sick of them. Sick, sick, sick. Those of you younger than me – by a small margin – do not be disheartened. Life is great. And then it’s nearly over. Not that it matters. If there is one comfort about being dead it’s that nothing matters any longer. Trust me. Thrive all you like. It doesn’t matter – in the long run. Mind you if, as I did yesterday, do in your back by doing the most idiotic, the one so stupid I have no sympathy for the likes of me, it makes you evaluate all that’s gone before.

I am in an odd situation.  And a little frightened.

U

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25 Comments »

  1. I never paid attention to “It’s later than you think.” Now I know. I add the years & subtract from 100–Haha except my uncle lived to 100.

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — February 10, 2015 @ 19:10 | Reply

    • You aren’t dying are you? Don’t do that. We need you.

      Comment by bikehikebabe66 — February 10, 2015 @ 19:12 | Reply

      • No, I am not dying, my dear Cynthia. You’ll need to hit me with a shovel to keep me down under.

        U

        Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:08 | Reply

    • Now that’s what I call applied mathematics. How clever. By your calculation you are now a spring chicken. At 100 you’ll be reborn. Please don’t ask Tom if this makes any sense. Scientists have a way of shooting disappointing holes into one’s reasoning.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:09 | Reply

  2. Darkest and dawn crap cliché, but so many nail it. That back thing, take care. I don’t know what that involves, mine involved heavy duty paracetamol and lying rigid and whining. I whine very well. Lots of practice.
    I am old. Divide day into bite size chunks.
    XO
    WWW

    Comment by wisewebwoman — February 10, 2015 @ 19:41 | Reply

    • It’s odd: The healthier a specimen you are the more you take it as an affront when you fall prey to some physical inconvenience. Or at least I do. I remember being told my right arm was broken. Ok, fair play. It happens. Even if it was the second time in quick succession. When they said “and so is your left” I was so stunned, so outraged, so disappointed with myself I didn’t even cry. It’s why John McEnroe is my hero: “YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS” he shouted at the judge. Fat load of good that did.

      “Paracetamol “? I have gone one better after I lifted some “Marshall” or other despite my son’s dire warning not to. Codeine is my poison of choice. “Lying rigid?” Na, WWW, the doctor and my instinct order brisk walks. “Whining”? I wish. Cursing more like it.

      On a different note, WWW: I have been following your recent grief so very well conveyed and documented by you. I didn’t comment but please do know that my thoughts were and are with you. In many ways you and your friend were so very lucky to have each other. As hard as it is on you to be the “leftover”. And you are here to tell a moving tale.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:07 | Reply

  3. “If and when life wants to teach us a lesson I am sure it’s perfectly able to do so without constant supervision and us monitoring our navel.”

    Is this a case where life is trying to teach a lesson? How would one know?

    Anyway, you’re a smart lady. If other people have figured out how to cope, even thrive, you certainly will be able to do it too. As usual OSDFA (one size doesn’t fit all, we each have to figure out what works for us.)

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 11, 2015 @ 00:14 | Reply

    • Oh, Jean, thanks for teaching ME “a lesson”. Isn’t it so very (un)satisfying to be quoted back to yourself? Funny that. Mind you, my navel is a work of art.

      Thank you for your vote of confidence. To paraphrase your last sentence: Yes, I know what’s working for me, but at the moment I can’t make it work. Even when lowering expectation so much I need a magnifying glass to follow its trail.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:14 | Reply

  4. Sounds like U are looking for an original cliché. My observation is that the definition of the young is that they have hopes and dreams. The old don’t. But then there is the traumatic transition point where one goes from young to old. Rarely people go from old to young.

    Comment by Looney — February 11, 2015 @ 03:57 | Reply

    • Thanks for making me smile, Looney. My lament is not so much about ageing as such. It’s more the sudden realization that where once upon a time anything was in your reach now (realistically) it is moving OUT of reach.

      Oddly, or maybe not so odd, when writing the original post I was thinking of you. Not just those arctic swims of yours (which I did in my late teens – heaven knows why, I have no idea) but Looney learning Hebrew. It is such an onerous task. And in the end – and I don’t mean this as a downer – it’s all inside your brain and you won’t be able to leave your accumulated knowledge/wisdom to anyone else. Considering that I am an ardent recycler I find the very idea of you taking it all to your grave slightly annoying. Only comparison to Hebrew I can come up with is an old ambition of mine to learn Russian. In my late teens I was in thrall of Russian literature – and made solemn promise there and then – that when I’d have the time (when old which I am not yet) I’ll learn the language and read everyone in the original. Who knows. All I know that Angela Merkel has one up on me. Conversing with Putin in fluent Russian. I ask you.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:29 | Reply

  5. One of our favorite jokes is, “Inside every old person is a young one saying, ‘What the hell happened?’ “

    Comment by Cheerful Monk — February 11, 2015 @ 05:40 | Reply

    • Yes, Jean. My mother – who in many ways has a child like temperament – can’t believe her advancing years. Her spirit tells her one thing, her body hints at a different story on the horizon.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:33 | Reply

  6. getting older is a bitch. no cliches for you, nothing helpful either. ((hugs))

    Comment by kylie — February 11, 2015 @ 11:59 | Reply

    • Thank you, Kylie. I lovingly collect hugs, put them into the book of my life and am happy when I stumble on a long forgotten one between the pages.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:35 | Reply

  7. Been there, done it, felt like shit for a while. And now? Stuff happens, there is nothing worse than spending time with what if thoughts. Age is a number and no guarantee for wisdom. Laughter helps, decent company sometimes, good food, coffee and if all fails, distraction. Still, I always fall for the drama of poor me or how shitty is that etc.
    And cliches – like too much sugar at times.
    Seriously, I sometimes try too much making sense of things, of life, of how this is not what I had in mind when I imagined my future etc. – and whoopey, life figures itself out. Thankfully.

    Comment by Sabine — February 11, 2015 @ 12:18 | Reply

    • Hi, Sabine. I once had a friend with your name. Indeed I do have a cousin with your name. Not so much lost in the mist of time as faded.

      I don’t mind age (the number) or the ageing process. People take me for ten, fifteen, twenty years younger than I am. More is the pity. However, and my post (written in my usual slightly opaque way) doesn’t make it clear that I struggle with one practical implication of getting older. Namely that of making money. Not riches. Just to cover the basics. And that is where age – even if not on YOUR mind but in the market place – becomes a stumbling block.

      What is screaming into my face is the famous “gap”, a peculiarly female predicament in a woman’s working life and one which I did not see coming.. The now streamlined “apply for a job on line” in a given format does not cater for the likes of me. The short version: Cashflow has become my constant companion, fighting fires on all fronts has become my daily entertainment. In the meantime people ask me inane questions like: “Why didn’t you/don’t get married again?”. Pardon?

      As you say: “Life figures itself out”.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 11, 2015 @ 13:53 | Reply

  8. Life’s a bitch. Then you die. Best to keep moving forward but the occasional sideways jaunt or backward step is fine as long as you are moving. And be sure to enjoy whatever parts of the journey you can. Ya never know when the next errant bus is headed your way.

    Comment by shackman — February 11, 2015 @ 14:19 | Reply

    • Life is a ball, Chuck. Notwithstanding occasionally dropping said ball – as you know yourself only too well. By temperament I don’t mind chasing the currently elusive but I do mind VERY MUCH if my not always successful efforts and my mistakes affect the equilibrium of others.

      That “errant bus”? My dear Shackman, I have escaped a few of them by a narrow whisker. So much so that just thinking about it makes me wish to throw up. But then I was born lucky. And hope to die lucky, if only for my son’s sake. You know, everyone harps on about the importance of FIRST impressions, but what of the last?

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 13, 2015 @ 10:02 | Reply

  9. Huh. My experience has been quite the opposite, U. In my early years, I never felt as if the whole world was available to me or that I could have it all. Actually, I felt entitled to very little, if nothing at all. It is only now, at this advanced age of (UGH) 57 that I’m finally beginning to feel as if life is opening it’s windows, if not cracking a few doors, too, to me. If I look behind, I feel that closed off feeling. Looking ahead actually gives me hope and optimism.

    Okay, you can shoot me now or later. I used “actually” twice in this response and I am being that infernal, irrepressible optimist again. You must be pulling your precious hair out!

    Comment by Lorna's Voice — February 12, 2015 @ 00:23 | Reply

    • What you, Lorna, are saying does shine through in your writings. I never so much felt “entitled” as took it all for granted. I have an unshakable belief in life, myself, others and the future. I haven’t lost that belief but it’s been severely tested for a while. Tenacious as I am, I am digging my way out of a mole’s dark tunnel – largely by myself, and with patient encouragement and helping hands from, sometimes, unlikely sources.

      I am glad you have thrown off the shackles of your past, However, there is no denying – in my case – that some of my horizons’ lights are dimming – by necessity. Not that it makes for unhappiness. Not at all. Just shaking my head in bewilderment how a little judicious forward planning could have spared me many an uncomfortable moment of reflection.

      U

      Comment by bitchontheblog — February 13, 2015 @ 10:18 | Reply

      • I hear you loud and clear. And I haven’t entirely shaken off those shackles, either. Or, if I have, the scars keep reminding me that they were there, so they feel like they are there on too many days. I still have a long way to go, too. I hope I have plenty of time left to get over the time that I’ve spent making poor decisions!

        Comment by Lorna's Voice — February 18, 2015 @ 20:21 | Reply

  10. I’m with Lorna about younger days…… actually I reckon life is actually “crap” for the largest part…. otherwise how can you know whenit’s actually good…. like the idea that to know whn you’re happy you have to have been unhappy……. oh…. just realised that to know when you’re inhappy etc. The same goes for “crap”/
    I am now more confused than before.

    Comment by magpie11 — February 12, 2015 @ 11:21 | Reply

  11. i’ve always thought of you as a dorothy parker for our times. just the name of this post is a perfect example.
    two quotes from her that are close to truth and yet furthest from it …
    “people ought to be two things. young or dead.”
    and
    “sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.”
    you are young. because you are far younger than i am. so don’t be dead.
    and you are beautiful and witty. what the hell more do you need?
    a snoopy hug for you dear bean.
    because i am still after all pollytammyanna. i will spare you the xo however. oh no i won’t. XO

    Comment by tammy j — February 13, 2015 @ 13:17 | Reply

  12. All I can say, from my 67-year-old vantage point, is – if there’s anything you haven’t done that you passionately want to do, then go ahead and do it. What’s stopping you? Okay, you can rule out a few things like brain surgery (or firefighting), but many other things can be started and pursued at any age as long as you’re still mentally alert and reasonably healthy.

    Comment by nick — February 13, 2015 @ 15:55 | Reply

  13. Under these circumstances, very broadly explained by you, nothing can be offered by anyone that will make sense to you. If it is of any consolation, I have been there, on more than one occasion and know what it is like. In retrospect, they too passed.

    Comment by Rummuser — February 15, 2015 @ 11:41 | Reply


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