next to normal

i am a woman in my fifties...there...i've said it and i'm still breathing...and i am trying to reinvent the wheel, again...so to speak...as my generation runs the treadmill that is life...trying not to fall off...trying to be current...relevant...not get left behind...trying to hang on to employment...and find some meaning if that employment has become little more than a paycheck...and as all this becomes unbearably loud in my head...that nagging thought rises like a crescendo...what have i done with my time...what will i do going forward...and how fierce will i be...blame all this angst on the jewish new year which always makes me pause...and think...and brood...and eat...which...being a woman in her fifties...is like immediately dialing up the freakin' scale five pounds for thought alone...i make a to do list...maybe a little more introspective than picking up cat litter or going to the cleaners...no, this is more like...get that second book out there...read more...laugh more...listen a lot more...and as i sit here and ponder the big picture...and where i fit into all of it...i look on my desk at a beautiful quote mounted on a wood plaque...given to me by a lovely women, sue, in my writers' group..."the old woman I shall become will be quite different from the woman I am now. another I is beginning, and so far I have not had to complain of her." ~ george sand...and as i start this new year...5775...i look forward to new beginnings...and to the challenge, and journey...and to the halvah sitting on the counter

six degrees of separation

only a few weeks ago i blogged about seeing joan rivers...first time...stand up...long island...but this was before robin williams...before joan...and this is no laughing matter...and i wondered about loss and grief...and how if we dissect things we are probably all six degrees or less from it all...and as i pause to wonder if the new york post is even fit for the bottom of a bird cage after it's horrible photos of pre-beheadings...(this is 2014, right...not tudor England of which i am totally immersed in courtesy of "wolf hall")...as i pause in awe at the swift passage of time as we approach the 13th anniversary of 911...i feel sadness in the waning days of summer...realizing how important robin and joan and all brilliant comedians are as they hold us tight in the warmth that is humor...keep us from falling into the abyss of the world as we know it...hoping that generation text will continue the tradition of comedy...which is a step away from tragedy...and find a voice or two that will make them laugh till they cry...and keep the world outside at bay...for a while