I want to coin a new word

I want a word that means to feel it all at once. To include the cognitive dissonance with the revelation of divine knowledge. To embrace the sacred and the profane. I want that word to recognize that I can be at peace and at war within myself at any moment, either one or both simultaneously.

To feel it all at once is to glimpse the mind of the creator. Perhaps. I want the ennui and the exhilaration of my being to dance. A tango. Slow, deliberate, sinuous, winding about one another until the boredom embraces the joy reaching crescendo. And then there is silent acceptance of both when the music fades.

This is my life now. I don’t want to call it a new normal. I despise normal – always have. I have striven all my life not to be average. I’d rather be a failure than just fade to black.

This life, the one right here, the one that I call a trainwreck, is mine and I don’t want to shut down any part of it. It has become who I am.

I was in a trainwreck one time. Really. I hit a train. It makes for a great party story.

And that is my goal: to ferment all of this into a story that both bears witness to the tragedy and provokes laughter at having trried to overcome it all and only sometimes succeeding. I want to coin that word.

If we can’t laugh, we can’t cry, and both are necessary for either to have any potency. Any meaning. Any effect.

I want a word for all of this. These events and feelings and effects have shaped me and continue to shape me into a person I hardly recognize, but who is resolutely and most definitely me.

The Worst Date Ever

I turned 66 this year.  I never expected to live this long, but it’s been a good ride.  Until the damned COVID, things just kept getting better and better.

Much to my surprise. 

Dating is one of the things that is so much better now than it was when I was an angst-ridden young adult. 

I went on my first date at the age of 13.  I can’t imagine what my parents were thinking.  I was married for 19 years and change.  Do the math – that’s 34 years I’ve spent dating.  A lot of different guys.  And a lot of them were just plain old, um, different.  I think I married the first guy I felt like didn’t need therapy. That turned out not to be quite true – he just hid it well. 

Don’t get me wrong, I adore men.  I really do, but I’m here to talk about my worst first date.  It would have been about 1981.  I was 22, a disco queen, young and attractive. 

No, really.  I was.  When you get to be my age, you will look back and realize there is a beauty to youth.  I think that’s why so many people fight aging.

Anyway.

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