Hope and the hairball

We begin again. OH how I LOVE new beginnings!!! I have experienced 43 New years, hundreds of virgin sketchbooks, deaths and absences, break ups and promises, symbolic acts and programs completed...bring it on. Beginnings and ends.

With each shift or split from what was before - comes hope. Yummy, innocent, eyes just opening hope. Hope. The expectation that something good WILL happen.

I'm not too full of the Auld Lang Sein thing. Should old acquaintance be forgot? Well, my thought is if they ARE forgotten - there might be a darn good reason for it. And, if they are not forgot, the point is irrelevant.

As my old friend Urbano once, said....

TAGLIARE LA CORDA! (Cut the chord)

You hope it's going to be ok.

Good bye 2011, hello 2012!

The juicy potential, the fastidious structuring, that 'wrap me up in the coziest blanket' feeling of having done nothing wrong...yet...because you're starting from this very point. 

Nothing wrong??! Oh oh....OOOOOOOhhhhhh!

God that feels good.

NOW hope yourself forward...it's time to reach out a bit, put your best foot, a first foot forward, do something new or in a potentially better way. 

You have to get rid of the "I can't do it" first though, so you put it in the garbage disposal and listen, sipping your three olive martini as those pesky insecurities get hacked to bits and washed out to sea. First like a cat chocking then like it purrrrrrring.

Great hairball of self doubt be gone! 

 

But what if that self doubt is more like a fire iron than carrot peelings?

What if when you turn the disposal switch you hear this raspy chocking death CLUNK as this great symbolic act destroys another appliance and is regurgitated as Godzilla instead of going down as obedient carrot puree? Not another faux pas!?

Now what?

You are frozen - because for WHAT EVER reason, you really expected that THIS time your hope, if it had to be dependent on the annihilation of something else and or had to be regurgitated, would manifest as that familiar plastic Godzilla holding a plate of fried ice cream and 2 spoons at the end of an awesome sushi dinner...not as the beast himself waddling out of the sea ready to wreak havoc on that dark model city set that is your life. 

Whoops, and "Get out of my way!" - you shout but your voice has vanished, and the sound track is cranked up.

You are mortified and your translucency belies your cool.

And you've got cold hands.

 And now you've got cold feet.

And like an over stuffed armchair the reptile is suddenly full. He's mangled and mashed those cables and wires, he's unplugged the entire city...he's gobbled up hope, reason, good judgement and strength and you are alone again having been plunged into a darkness reeking of reptile flatulence.

Singing sometimes works, but not this time.

Stop, drop and roll... nope -

this is the 'Godzilla Self', not a fire drill.

So you try to go back and hide in the pre dawn sparkle of the new, reinventing wheel after wheel for those first feet...if you cant hop hope maybe you can roll it. If you stay there, in the dark, the sweet chirping that accompanies your hope is just that, and you don't have to see that Godzilla will have soon eaten all your crickets...and your city.

Damn it, you think...damn it, not again.    

Go back, what went wrong? Maybe instead of trying to chop to pieces that "I can't do it" you should have used a pen and just crossed out the t. Why do you always have to do things the hard way?

So you mark it up and then take a step, you and your butterfly net and #15 reptile repellant - and it's bright, and intimidating and you look TOTALLY ridiculous...and the hope turns to fear but you're off...beyond the beginning...

go

TAGLIARE LA CORDA

We're turning Godzilla into a giant plastic duck.