My December to Remember 2: Day Six
News: President Biden, en route to border state Arizona, tells reporters there’s “more important things” than visiting the U.S. southern border, something he has never done in his entire political career.
Kirstie Alley dead at 71 after short bout with cancer.
I really tried today. I wanted to wake up in a good mood. I went to sleep ready to get back to work after a productive and relaxing three-day weekend. And yet I woke up to the news that the only senior on our show right now was sick, and that I’d have to co-senior with another line producer. In fact, literally everyone I work with is sick. Guess it’s that time of the year. The December doldrums are really ramping up and a million bombs are ready to explode in our faces. It was like that last year, based on my past writing, and I regret to inform you 2022 is no different.
But something keeps telling me that maybe, just maybe, this is the very last time any of us will feel any of this.
I used to think that “everything comes in threes.” When you’d hear about one well-known celebrity’s death, another two would usually follow. I’m not about to get into some of the wilder ritualistic theories I’ve see when it comes to deaths and numerology, as I can’t even begin to understand who’d even orchestrate such horrific schemes. But I don’t think the ‘three’ mantra rings true anymore. Now I just see it as one explosion after another. And, strangely enough, there’s times I’m rooting for it to keep spiraling down further.
There was a time things came in threes for me, all right around this time of year too. In 2009, I had a major knee surgery that put me out of commission for three months. I had what’s called a ‘microfracture’ surgery, where they drilled holes in my femur, allowing blood flow to form around my joint where there is no more cartilage. It hurt, and I was in physical therapy for months. But the surgery worked. Unfortunately for me, just four days after I was all laid up, my freelance gig called to let me to they would no longer need freelancers by the time I was able to come back. And then not even a few days after that, my summer boyfriend broke up with me because, quote, “I need to focus on my career.” Three things, back to back to back, showing me just how much of a shit sandwich life can be sometimes.
While I couldn’t help the things that happened to me, what I’ll never understand is those who revel in the purposeful destruction, all the while masquerading it as the correct thing to happen. I’ve already expressed my distrust and distaste for pretty much anyone in power right now, considering how utterly incompetent they all seem to be. I can’t help but feel like this is all done by design; To make us see just how much shit they can put us through before closing the trunk and driving off to Tahiti with their millions in tow. Meanwhile, all us regular folk get left in the dust, decimated, destroyed, with not a care from those we allegedly put in charge of the whole operation. I don’t know what their goal is, but I know it’s only beneficial to a select few they’ve pre-chosen or are indebted to. And thankfully I’m just not on that list.
As I settle into these December doldrums, I know things are bound to get worse. I’m trying to be as realistic as possible here. I had to tell my father the other night that he cannot love my mother out of her dementia, even as I heard him say, “But I believe love conquers all.” It broke my heart because I could hear the delusion, knowing her mental issue is getting worse, knowing there’s an endpoint we will one day be unable to ignore. I’m not rooting for this downfall, mind you. It’s just a long list of examples of what else is joining us on this journey to rock bottom.
And yet, as we slip further into the age of confusion and strife, I can’t help but feel thankful and glad I’m seeing it all laid bare before me. It’s like I’m not upset by it at all. I’m expecting it. I’m staring it in its face and telling it to bring it on. The fuck else can anyone do to hurt me? Do you even understand what I’ve seen? What I’ve felt? What I’ve been through? What more could you agents of chaos possibly do to tear me down? You want to kill me? I’d like to see you try. I’m wise to this game, and even if no one else is, I take comfort knowing that through it all, I’ll still be standing. I’ll complain and bitch and curse and cry along the way, but it cannot break me. I won’t allow it. I’ve seen enough. Keep slinging the shit because there will be a day I come out clean on the other side. And they will be the ones to utterly crumble with no redemption arc to follow.
In my utopia, people say what they mean, and mean what they say. Their words are backed up by actions. There’s no need to pretend. I guess that’s where I’m going to have to live from now on, because on this plane of existence, The Powers That Be have ushered in a world full of madness just so they can save their cold-blooded reptile skin.
Couldn’t be me. I’ve got no need to count the chaos by the rules of three anymore. It’s all around me at any given time. And that knowledge seems to put me in the most admirable position of all. Because by being wise to it, it cannot harm you. These evil people have been swinging their swords around for far too long. They’re bound to fall upon them sooner or later, and if we’re lucky, we’ll get a front-row seat to watch it all go down.
And so I live another day, reporting on the ills of the world, the exquisite pain of heartbreak still dragging at my feet. But that’s how I know it was real. It’s how I know all of it is real. And one day, “when all of this is over,” I will be stronger because of it. I only hope you can visit me on my isolated mount to learn the ways of the world. Mama needs a rest after helping defeat the evil, no matter how many bruises she comes away with. And she does it best when you approach her solo this time.
