shit just got real. i found my first grey hair. are you fucking kidding me!!! i yelled it. then i stopped cold in my tracks before the vanity mirror. my whole unaccomplished life had just flashed before me. there i was standing in my too small bathroom while my brain gushed geiser flow: “im too young to die”. “im too young to get old”. “im too young to face this right now.” +++ “how in the hell did this happen?”
time dear lady. time. and there Time was. growing from my head. the very proof that as i twittered twattered and frittered away the days and nights on this spinning rock my impending doom was waiting over the horizon. forgotten but never gone. the man with the unseeable face and the long dark robe. his hand holding a scythe. his patience enduring. his smile implied.
fuck! time is real. no matter what the relativists say. its existence and effects on our bodies doesnt get more “in your face” than what happened to me this morn. when it comes to the reality of our mortality the cards are in. grey is grey. grey is a harbinger of death.
im panicked. worried. nervous. angry. how in the hell is my lifes blood waning from me so quickly. im only 30. just a mere 30 years into this journey. hopefully a mere 30% into this journey. and i havent finished that *&%$%^%% play yet.
i told a friend of mine my deadline for the play was august. he said make it june. i guess hes right. otherwise, he says, it just sits and wastes away and you have no real need to finish it.
but the need is oh so real my friend. its burden of realness just tripled with this grey hair discovery.
isnt grey hair caused by stress? i have plenty of it. stress i mean. not grey. knock on wood. scene two has hit me like a ton of bricks. this same thing happened to me when i was writing the first scene. it took me a whole month to exit from the mental meltdown/depression tailspin and cobble together a decent plotline + dialogue. hopefully scene2 wont take me this long this time.because time waits for no odie mama…
my brain keeps hitting a rut. where did all the time of my life go? and what they hell does the grey hair really mean? i can only see it as gods calling card to get it together. and get on with the show. and keep peddling to some kind of half baked destination (not my grave) in this crazy mixed up world where the sky is falling, the icecaps are melting, and your end is imminent.
this life can seem so futile and inane. we’re sitting on a billion kilotons of stockpiled killing power and making merry over sunday football. we have our destinies insured by the same maniacal fiends that count each of our lives as less important than the almighty dollar. still we wake up and microwave a cup of caffeine free tea for ourselves and put our socks on one foot at a time to go out make a living, get a slice of pizza, and pay taxes. the irrational nature of nature, the incomprehensible ??? of my life has me lost among the seas and the stars.
is this whole thing pointless on some level? when its all added up. and seen from the outside? yes. and that bothers me. but we cant let that stop us. can we?